Today, I want to talk about something that I think doesn’t get enough attention—how small towns in Tasmania are not just surviving but truly thriving. And they’re doing it by leaning into what makes them unique. It’s one of those things that sounds simple, but when you see it in action, it’s absolutely brilliant.
Let’s start with a little town you’ve probably heard of: Sheffield. This place is known as the “Town of Murals,” and honestly, it’s such a genius move. Instead of trying to compete with bigger towns on amenities or events, Sheffield leaned into its charm. They embraced art as their identity. The murals tell stories about the town’s history, its people, and its culture. But it’s not just about pretty walls. Those murals attract tourists from all over, which supports local cafes, gift shops, and bed-and-breakfasts. Sheffield proves that a strong identity can be a magnet for visitors.
Then there’s Bruny Island. Technically, it’s not a town, but stay with me. This spot has become a foodie paradise, and they’ve done it by focusing on local, small-scale producers. The cheesemakers, oyster farmers, winemakers—they’re all part of what makes Bruny special. But here’s the key: they work together. They actively promote each other. When you visit one spot, they’ll recommend another. That kind of collaboration creates this incredible network effect. People don’t just visit Bruny Island for one thing—they stay longer, try more, and spend more.
Another example is Evandale. This little village is like stepping back in time, and they’ve made that their selling point. They host the National Penny Farthing Championships every year, and it’s such a quirky, wonderful event. People come from all over just to see those old-timey bicycles racing through the streets. It’s unique, it’s memorable, and it puts Evandale on the map in a way that no generic festival ever could.
Now, let’s talk about Cygnet. This town has leaned hard into its creative, artsy vibe. It’s home to the Cygnet Folk Festival, which has become a major draw for both locals and tourists. But it’s not just about the festival. The town has positioned itself as a year-round hub for artists, musicians, and makers. There are galleries, workshops, and artisan markets that keep people coming back long after the festival ends. They’ve created this ecosystem where creativity and commerce thrive side by side.
Another one I love is Stanley, with its jaw-dropping natural feature, The Nut. But Stanley doesn’t stop at natural beauty—it builds on it. The town has embraced its fishing heritage in a big way. There are fresh seafood tours, quaint fishing shacks you can stay in, and even storytelling nights where locals share tales about life on the water. It’s authentic, it’s tied to the town’s history, and it gives visitors something they can’t find anywhere else.
And I can’t leave out Oatlands. This town has taken its historic flour mill and turned it into a centerpiece for tourism. They restored the Callington Mill to working order, and now it produces flour using traditional methods. But they didn’t stop there. They built a whole visitor experience around it, with tastings, tours, and a café that uses the mill’s flour in its baked goods. It’s a perfect example of turning history into an asset.
What ties all these towns together is their willingness to embrace what makes them unique. They’re not trying to copy what bigger places are doing—they’re doubling down on their quirks, their culture, and their community. And that’s the key, isn’t it? Small towns don’t need to be everything to everyone. They just need to be themselves.
