Doo-Town, Tasmania, Australila

First time in Tasmania, 2009, for pre deployment to Antarctica with Australia. Managed to do some sight seeing - introducing 'Doo Town' Doo Town, Tasmania.

On the Tasman Peninsula, about an hour and a half’s drive southeast of Hobart, there’s a little coastal settlement called Doo Town. It’s not big — in fact, it’s barely a town at all — more a small cluster of shacks overlooking Pirates Bay, near the entrance to the Tasman National Park. What makes Doo Town stand out isn’t its size or its shops (there aren’t any), but its sense of humour. Every house here has a name that ends with the word “Doo,” and together they form one of Tasmania’s quirkiest and most photographed communities.

Doo Town sits just outside the small village of Eaglehawk Neck, on the narrow isthmus that connects the Tasman Peninsula to the rest of Tasmania. From Hobart, you follow the Arthur Highway (A9) through Sorell, Dunalley, and past the turn-offs for Port Arthur. The drive takes about 90 minutes, and it’s one of those routes where the scenery keeps changing — farmland, forest, and coastline all in the mix. Once you reach Eaglehawk Neck, you pass the old Dog Line monument, where soldiers once stationed dogs to stop convicts escaping from Port Arthur, and then the road leads directly to Doo Town and the nearby Tasman Arch and Devil’s Kitchen rock formations.

The town itself is easy to miss if you’re not paying attention. There are only around 20 to 30 houses, depending on the season, and no shops or businesses. Most of the homes are holiday shacks, owned by Tasmanians who come down on weekends or during summer.

The story of Doo Town goes back to the 1930s. Before then, the area was just another small coastal shack community — one of many that popped up along Tasmania’s rugged southern and eastern coastlines. Local fisherman, tradesmen, and retirees built small, simple homes here for weekends and holidays.

The “Doo” theme started as a joke. In the early 1930s, a resident named Eric Round decided to name his shack “Doo I”, a simple pun that fit the easygoing character of the place. Another neighbour followed with “Doo Me”, and a third added “Doo Us.” From there, it caught on quickly. Soon, almost every shack in the area had some kind of “Doo” name, and the tradition stuck.

What began as local humour ended up becoming the identity of the whole settlement. Visitors would come through and laugh at the signs — “Gunadoo,” “Yankee Doodle Doo,” “Love Me Doo,” “Wee Doo,” “Howya Doo,” and “Hairy Doo.” Even today, people who build new homes there keep the tradition alive. There’s “Make Doo,” “Doo Little,” “Humpty Doo,” “Just Doo It,” “Doo Drop In,” “Doo Nothing,” and plenty more.

Today, Doo Town is officially classed as a locality rather than a township. The permanent population is tiny — roughly 20 to 40 people, depending on the season and who you ask. Most residents are part-time, and there’s no infrastructure beyond the houses themselves. No store, no pub, no post office. The nearest services are at Eaglehawk Neck, a five-minute drive away, where you’ll find accommodation, a petrol station, and a small convenience store.

Despite its size, Doo Town attracts thousands of visitors every year. Most come as part of a day trip from Hobart or Port Arthur, often combining it with the nearby natural sights. It’s a stop for a laugh and a photo, rather than a destination in itself, but that’s exactly the point — the place doesn’t try to be anything more than what it is.

While the town is small, the landscape around it is impressive. Pirates Bay stretches in a long curve of golden sand backed by forested hills. The Tasman Sea crashes against high dolerite cliffs to the south, and there are walking tracks leading to Tasman Arch, Devil’s Kitchen, and the Blowhole, all within a few minutes’ drive or a short walk.

The Tasman National Park is one of Tasmania’s most rugged and dramatic areas, with vertical cliffs, sea caves, and deep blue water. Doo Town sits right on its edge, so even though the settlement itself is tiny, it’s surrounded by some of the most photographed scenery on the island.

A few kilometres south lies Port Arthur Historic Site, the best-preserved convict settlement in Australia. This part of the peninsula is full of history — from the Dog Line at Eaglehawk Neck to the old coal mines, lookout points, and lighthouses. In that sense, Doo Town fits into a larger picture of Tasmanian life: a mix of isolation, humour, and resilience.

For all the attention it gets, Doo Town hasn’t turned itself into a tourist trap. The residents like their privacy and tend to treat the curiosity with good humour. Most visitors just park briefly on the roadside, take photos of the shack names, and move on.

Local authorities have leaned into the identity slightly — there’s a public barbecue area nearby officially called the “Doo-Lishus” food van (when it’s open), known for its fresh fish and chips and scallop pies. Otherwise, the area remains low-key. The lack of commercialisation is part of its charm. It’s still a community of holiday homes with character, not an attraction built for tourists

Doo Town represents something quite Tasmanian — that dry sense of humour and independence that shows up in a lot of rural communities here. It’s also an example of how small traditions can turn into cultural landmarks without anyone really planning it. Nobody set out to make Doo Town famous; it just happened because a handful of locals decided to have fun with something simple.

In a country full of big landscapes and famous cities, Doo Town stands out for the opposite reason — it’s small, local, and human. It’s the kind of place that doesn’t need marketing or reinvention. What you see is what you get.

Most visitors come by car as part of a loop from Hobart through Port Arthur, or as a stop while exploring the Tasman Peninsula. There’s plenty of parking, and it’s easy to walk around. There are no guided tours or entry fees; you just wander down the road and look at the house signs. The names are the main drawcard — and every visitor has their favourite.

It’s worth taking time to also explore the nearby lookout points. Tasman Arch, Devil’s Kitchen, and the Blowhole are only minutes away, each with walking tracks and viewing platforms. In clear weather, you can see out to the ocean cliffs and back over the peninsula.

Accommodation options are limited to nearby towns — Eaglehawk Neck, Taranna, or Port Arthur, all within 20 minutes.

Doo Town doesn’t take itself seriously, and that’s why people love it. It’s proof that personality matters more than size, and that humour can become a local identity. You don’t need to spend hours there, but it’s one of those spots that makes you smile and gives you a sense of what Tasmania is really about — a mix of wild coastlines, simple living, and communities that don’t mind poking fun at themselves.

For a place with fewer than 50 residents and no main street, Doo Town has left its mark on Tasmanian tourism. It’s on postcards, magnets, and guidebooks, and yet it still feels like a real, quiet settlement at the edge of the sea. The names on the shacks — “Doogese,” “Doo Rite,” “Doo Bee Doo,” “Doo Away” — are simple, but together they form a kind of folk art.

Doo Town isn’t the kind of place you “visit” for long — you stop, have a look, laugh, and move on — but it stays with you. It’s small, strange, and unmistakably Tasmanian.