Narrative by Meredith Stephens & Photographs by Alan Noble
I have read about overtourism in Spain and Greece. Locals have been overwhelmed with the visitors, and some even displayed signs for tourists to go home. According to Fortune magazine (17 July 2024), some locals in Barcelona turned on tourists with water pistols, and others in the Canary Islands embarked on a hunger strike in response to the numbers of tourists. Images of overtourism in Santorini, Greece prompted me to search for an unpopulated area, and I didn’t have to look much further than our own state of South Australia. We hoped to visit deserted towns, dotted with ruins, where there are more sheep than people.
Alex, Verity and I headed out of Adelaide on a bleak wintery day, caravan in tow, to the outback. First stop was Burra, a former mining town where copper was mined from 1845 until 1877. Copper brought prosperity to the state of South Australia saving it from bankruptcy. The small town centre featured a proudly-standing rotunda. Businesses were open, and there were grand buildings and churches which overwhelmed this small town, standing testament to a thriving past.
The caravan was too big for a parking spot, so we parked it parallel to the kerb straddling several spots. We entered the tourist bureau, and as there was no-one in line, headed straight to the desk. We were greeted warmly by the assistant, who handed us a map and explained the various places where we could stay overnight in a caravan. There were free sites, a caravan park, and if you bought a meal at the pub you could camp in their grounds.
Then she pointed out the many historic sites on the map, fixing her eyes on me with a wide smile. I could sense Alex pulling away ever so slightly, as he was anxious to secure a caravan site and do some sightseeing before nightfall, but I was captivated by the enthusiasm of the guide and tried to remember as much as I could of what she was telling us. We headed to one of the recommended sites for the night and investigated the former mining sites with original equipment that had been shipped out from Cornwall, England, in the1800s. We were the only tourists at the site.
The next day we drove through Peterborough and Orroroo. We entered the cafe in Orroroo for lunch and asked the assistant what there was to see there. She gave us a map and explained that we absolutely had to see a spectacularly large 500-year-old tree on the outskirts of town.
Next, we headed to the very small town of Hallet. There at the general store we asked for a key which would open the door to the now deserted birthplace of the polar explorer and aviator, Sir Hubert Wilkins. It was the first time we had been given a key to let ourselves into a tourist attraction, and we felt very privileged. We drove twenty kilometres to the home along dirt roads. Again, we were the only visitors. We made our way to the front door and unlocked it. This home, formerly rubble, had been lovingly restored by the Australian Geographic Society as a tribute to the explorer.
We continued to the Parachilna Gorge in the Flinders Ranges where we spent the night. Alex made a campfire, and we dined outside. Again, we were surrounded by ancient trees with generous girths in a dry riverbed. In the morning Alex woke to spot families of emus passing by, camouflaged by the foliage.
We continued onto the deserted nineteenth-century town of Farina that day. People started to abandon the town in the late 1800s, and the last of the inhabitants had left by the 1960s. Fortunately volunteers are keen to preserve the history and the ruins and manage the town during the school holidays. We were given a hearty welcome by a volunteer at the entrance to the bakery and received a map of the town.
Finally, on the 700kilometre drive back to Adelaide, we were low on diesel and made a brief detour to a small town off the highway. After putting the diesel in the car, I went inside to pay.
“Thanks, darling!” the cashier gushed.
“I like your dog! Is he a kelpie?” I asked.
Then I was given an enthusiastic account of how the kelpie had been rescued from a shelter. I think the owners may have been deprived of human company and were glad to see a new face. Alex came in because he was wondering what had become of me, engrossed in conversation. We had the impression that we were their only clients for the day. Eventually, I managed to extricate myself.
On this trip we had no experience of overtourism. Rather we visited sites where few tourists could be seen. Guides were so enthusiastic that they fawned over us. One reason that there were so few tourists is that it was the middle of winter and there was intermittent rain. Another was the geographical isolation of the outback. Australia is distant from countries with large populations. South Australia is distant from the large Australian cities on the east and west coasts and the outback further still—although closer to Adelaide than any other Australian capital city.
The landscape of the outback feels as different as another country. Our city, Adelaide, has a multitude of houses and new freeways, but the outback has few houses and many ruins. These ruins attest to a time of optimism when settlers believed the rains would be consistent. We enjoy hitching up the caravan and driving to the outback, where there are so few tourists that the sight of another human being results in an effusive welcome.
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Meredith Stephens is an applied linguist from South Australia. Her recent work has appeared in Syncopation Literary Journal, Continue the Voice, Micking Owl Roost blog, The Font – A Literary Journal for Language Teachers, and Mind, Brain & Education Think Tank. In 2024, her story Safari was chosen as the Editor’s Choice for the June edition of All Your Stories.
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