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.

What Now? Cooking for a Helicopter Company

 Yes, you read it right and it does sound cool, I know.  Especially if you're into helicopters, which I am.  

How did I get this job?  I was cooking on a cattle station last year, I met some of the pilots during the year when they came mustering at my station, asked them about their base and the company and decided 'I want to work for them next year' - and as so often happens in my life, the planets aligned and the cooks position became vacant - I was going to cook for Heli Muster. 

Our season runs parallel to the Territory cattle season which makes sense, given the majority of our flying somehow involves a cattle station - from mustering (predominantly) to fire fighting and all the other jobs that come along the way.  I don't always ask where a pilot is going or has been, or what they did - I don't often see them as they come and go but also, I appreciate just how many stations there are in the NT or just over the border into WA, they all sort of roll into one after a while. 

My 2021 season started very early in March after a break in Darwin, then a house sit in Katherine followed by 6 weeks cooking at Manbulloo station just outside of Katherine.  I flew out to HM in one of our fixed wings, landed and was like 'oh yeah, straight back to the heat and the flies. Here we go again!' 

We're based at VRD station and as you enter the property you'll see helicopters and a hangar immediately on the left hand side.  The runway is on the right hand side, there's a hangar on that also.  The kitchen is right next to the main heli hangar, and that main hangar also has offices and workshop storage.  

The bulk of us are housed on 'the back row' which, according to my apple watch, is 200 metres from the main kitchen.  There was a few old bikes lying around that are free to use, so I resurrected myself a pretty decent mountain bike to use as my chosen mode of transport.  

The majority of houses on the back row are identical 2 bedroom set ups, each with its own yard, kitchen, laundry and lounge room.  Completely unheard of on a station but VRD itself, although I don't know all the history, has an old hospital on its grounds (and two or three cemeteries) and I believe our houses once accommodated workers for the local surrounds.  

I have good wifi, kettle bells, yoga mats (plus all the props) which is all I need to feel at home.  Christmas lights and the odd picture here and there and my house is complete.  I have a good view from the kitchen windows too, of who is coming and going down this neck of the woods and what they may be up to.  

There seems to be a growing trend on cattle stations to forego breakfast in favour of a decent  smoko instead - which I think makes sense, and it's what happens at HM.  My day starts whenever I need it to to get my smoko sorted for 9.30am, but pilots and engineers will start moving around between 5 and 6am.  Not unlike myself. In winter I love an early morning decent walk, when its hotter I do more movement in my house, in the air con away from the flies.

My kitchens about the size of a shipping container - one end of it has a tv and 3 comfy chairs, the other end is working kitchen area.  Its a good, user friendly space to work in, and I have a store room at my end of the kitchen.  There is a sliding door at the television end and my end has a regular door, both of which open out onto a large deck space where the tables and seating are.  On the left end of deck (the kitchen end) is a the cold room, the other end has the barbecue.  It's a good set up with everything so close by.  

Food deliveries come by road train once a fortnight which is fairly standard practice for the outback.  The benefit of working for a helicopter company and with having an office in Katherine, and 3 fixed wing pilots is, if I ever need anything outside of an order, it doesn't take long for it to get delivered!  It will wing its way out to be on first available flight.  

So what do we eat?  Similar to a cattle station, our predominant protein is beef - when we need a new animal (a killer) one or two choppers will go to get an animal and then reappear a couple of hours later laden with beef cuts.  We hang it in the cool room and then process it after a week or so. 

This time around, Im cooking differently - my smoko's are usually a choice of at least 5 different options, including smoothies, smoothie bowls, vegetarian options and always some form of egg dish - anything else can be the likes of quiches, spanakopita, crepes, wraps (done any which way) and pies.  Lunches are left overs, or if we are low on those I will create something, it could be a pasta dish, sushi or steak sandwiches.. Generally with dinner, I will do two protein options - they might both be beef but I will have two different styles / flavours, always vegetable choices and one or two starches.  

As the temperatures get up into the 40s again, people are eating less during the day, and when its cold (that term is almost laughable when winter stays in double digits in the NT) they'll eat lunch. 

My weeks are regular - Monday to Friday, half a day Saturday and Sunday off.  No way do i miss the cattle station days of weeks on at a time, 4-5am starts etc.. those can be some long days. 

So, this is how my pandemic life is going!  Big change for me to not be living out of a suitcase in some country Iv never been to.  For now though, I am grateful to have a job, the job that I wanted, a roof over my head, to be working with nice people and to have my double vaxxed health.  

Stay safe peeps!