Let’s say I was to prebook a seven-day holiday one month, two months or even longer in advance. A place where I knew exactly where I was going and when I would arrive and leave. Plus, I knew I wouldn’t be visiting another nearby place for overnight accommodation on a whim.
Suppose that holiday pre-booking was at a hotel, a pub-stay, a caravan park, a resort or a National Park. You’ve booked and paid your hard-earned money, and you excitedly await your annual break from the nine-to-five grind we all get entrenched.
When your holiday date arrives, you pack the wagon, slam the house’s front door, and close the white picket gate on the way out of your concrete jungle. You’ve organised the neighbour to keep an eye on the place and feed the cat, and the lawnmower boy knows where the side gate key is. Life is just dandy.
Bear with me here. You tootle off to your chosen destination, you party or relax in the hammock – whichever is your passion – and you fit in a couple of local day trips. However, you always return to wherever your bed has been booked. When the time comes to repack all the dirty clothes into the suitcase, you wave goodbye to newfound friends and return home, all excited to tell your workmates what a great holiday you’ve had.
What a perfect life you lead!
Then there’s the rest of us
Now for the other scenario. The way I, and a lot of other travellers, adventures, grey nomads and those that are generally unorganised, go about their holidays, time away from home, or even those that ‘on-the-road’ is their home.
While I might know I have a certain amount of time away from home, like my recent nine-week, 10,000km trip from mid-coast NSW, Flinders ranges, Central Australia, southern QLD and wiggling our way back down the coast, other than a few significant pre-determined stopovers, we essentially winged the rest of our time on the road.
It’s not because I’m unorganised or couldn’t be bothered pre-planning. It’s just how I roll with my outback touring holidays. Yes, I research via various online outlets, but I also talk to other travellers, locals and anyone who might offer a great spot to camp while we are on the road. We even spotted a signpost to a lesser-known gorge we hadn’t heard of and it was one of our best campsites. We still needed to prebook.
Sometimes, I spend much longer in a particular spot because it’s simply too grouse to leave. In other places I’ve disliked for one reason or another, I pack and leave for greener pastures sooner than planned.
Quite frankly, I hate being put in a position where I have no flexibility in my itinerary. So long as I can book, extend, or change my mind, I’m a happy camper and my life is dandy, too.
The National Park system sucks
Like I said at the top of this yarn, when everything is prebooked and organised at home, the NP system works. Well, sort of works.
But, when you wander around the backblocks, are out of phone reception and have a tendency to decide late in the day that you are going to turn left instead of right at the end of a dusty track, you find that the NP that you’ve arrived at has no onsite ranger, no caretaker and only accepts online bookings and payments, well, that’s when the system doesn’t work.
Try as you might to pay your fair share to park on a piece of dirt, squat on a long drop, and only use the firewood you brought in with you – it simply doesn’t work without phone or data reception.
Sure, some may say I should have known better. Well, yes, I know how the online system works. But when I’ve been travelling for days without mobile phone reception and only find out about a magical spot from fellow travellers or spot the sign while en route to somewhere else, then, I’m afraid those naysayers haven’t really experienced travelling remotely.
Yes, I could buy a satellite phone, purchase the infrastructure, and pay expensive monthly fees for Starlink or the like so that I could book a site regardless of my physical location. But no, no, I can’t fork out for that extravagance. Hopefully, time will bring costs down.
Onsite
In the old days of travelling and visiting National Parks, bookings were made via an honesty box at the campground or by stopping in at the ranger’s office. At times, a ranger or caretaker would drive around every campsite each evening to collect the fees.
There is no doubt some folk would cheat the system and cop a freebie every now and then. No system is totally perfect or cheat-proof, but in essence, it worked.
The big drawback – onsite manpower. Yep, a real person had to be onsite all day, every day, to manage and collect payments. But hey, isn’t that where National Park Rangers are meant to be – out in the park? During our time in Northern Territory National Parks, we saw very few rangers on site – very few. I do wonder why.
Just think how many man-hours are saved with the online system. How much less wages are paid and how little onsite visits are required with an online booking system. A lot! Surely, that would save us taxpayers a whole bundle of cash, eh?
Probably not, because those same rangers, workers and caretakers are probably dealing with more red tape than ever. I’m not having a go at the Rangers themselves, just the system.
Hotel or National Park campsite
Let’s not confuse or allow the facts that a hotel, pub, caravan park or resort of any kind are not the same as a National Park and shouldn’t be treated the same. For one, National Parks are owned by the people. Well, they used to be and should be. Unfortunately, that line is being blurred these days, but that’s a whole different problem we face with losing control of our publicly-owned land.
An online booking system can work for almost all other forms of vacation, given they are nearer the populous and therefore have mobile phone reception. While some National Parks may pass the reception problem, many don’t.
Online misinformation
A few times, we tried to book online before arrival when we had reception. I found the misinformation presented within the booking system a little bamboozling.
One NP system stated that every site accommodated a specific sized van/camper and set number of people. No matter what site I looked at, all the numbers were the same. Given I’d been to that particular camping area before, I knew all the sites varied. Each site recommended a specific style or size of camper, and if you didn’t fit those requirements, then you weren’t suitable and should look at another site… which was all the same! Perhaps the information needs updating or has never been appropriately entered from day one. Either way, it’s not good enough.
At other places, while trying to prebook, we were presented with information indicating that all sites had been prebooked or were full. In other words, “No Vacancy”. When we figured on driving in for at least a day trip, we found the campsites were far from full, with plenty of sites for the taking. Presumably, people are paying and not turning up or the system is simply wrong. Either way, something has to be done to make the system better.
How to fix the problem
Acknowledging the fix is easier said than done, given the expanse and remoteness of many parts of Australia. Perhaps having more rangers or caretakers onsite to take the bookings, plus keeping a certain percentage or number of camps sites available for late bookings.
Keeping these few sites open for latecomers, spontaneous travellers, or those who make late decisions on where we might end up each day would give us a fair chance of booking into many more National Park campsites.
Improved mobile phone reception would go a long way to alleviate the problem. Given the latest trends towards satellite phones and Starlink, that feature may not be too far away.
Our experience with non-payers
I was often greeted by fellow campers, coyly wandering towards our campsite. The conversation mostly went something like this:
Ol’ Mate: “G’day mate, have you booked your site here?”
I would already guess what he was about to tell me.
Ol’ Mate “We didn’t know we’d end up in here and don’t have phone reception to book, so we just set up on this site. I hope that’s OK with you?”
I’d usually smirk to myself, knowing he was yet another fellow traveller who had a guilty conscience and had to tell someone why he hadn’t paid and had to explain it all. From what I see, most campers don’t want to do the wrong thing but don’t want to miss out on a great camping spot, so they pull in and hope for the best. I’d usually discuss the great location, and they went on their merry way – with a free campsite.
Ol’ Mate “Yeah, no worries mate, hope you have a great time here. I hate the National Parks system”.
I’d count at least a dozen times in this one trip, spread over just as many National Parks, that this exact scenario happened.
Like most people we’ve encountered while out remote touring, say the system sucks.
