I'm not so worried about the event. I'm worried about the size of it.
Once a generation, the sky offers a gift so rare that even the most remote corners of the earth become pilgrimage sites. In 2028, a five-minute total solar eclipse will pass over the East Kimberley region of Western Australia, drawing an estimated 25,000 visitors to Doon Doon — a roadhouse community of fewer than a hundred souls, some 3,000 kilometres north of Perth. What unfolds there is a familiar human story: the collision of the extraordinary with the ordinary, and the urgent question of whether a small place can hold the weight of the world's attention without losing itself in the process.
- A roadhouse famous for oversized burgers is suddenly fielding booking requests from American and Japanese eclipse chasers, its manager more anxious about the crowd than the cosmic event itself.
- Infrastructure designed for dozens must somehow absorb thousands — a caravan park quadrupling in size, fuel lines stretching kilometres, and a landscape that punishes the unprepared.
- The Western Australian government has committed A$24.6 million to safety and facilities, but officials warn that remote Kimberley terrain poses real dangers to visitors who underestimate it.
- Global uncertainty — rising fuel costs, geopolitical instability — clouds the planning horizon even as tourism operators race to lock in affordable airfares and accommodation.
- Community leaders are betting that eclipse-driven investment will outlast the five minutes of darkness, transforming a one-day spectacle into a lasting international destination.
- With only one dry season left to prepare, the clock is pressing hard against ambition — and the difference between a footnote and a turning point may come down to what gets built in time.
In 2028, a total solar eclipse lasting more than five minutes will cross one of Australia's most isolated stretches of outback, and a modest roadhouse called Doon Doon — staffed by roughly a dozen people in Western Australia's East Kimberley — is bracing to become the centre of the astronomical world. Around 25,000 visitors are expected to descend on a community that currently counts fewer than a hundred permanent residents.
Manager Shayne Stewart first sensed what was coming shortly after the 2023 Exmouth eclipse, when his phone began ringing with international booking requests. His concern is not the eclipse itself but the sheer scale of what surrounds it. The caravan park is expanding from 25 to 100 sites, yet Stewart knows that even this may not be enough to prevent kilometres-long queues for fuel and food.
Vivienne McEvoy of the Kununurra Visitor Centre has spent a decade fielding eclipse inquiries and understands the urgency travellers feel — they want to witness the event before social media renders it secondhand. She is also navigating real uncertainty: fuel costs tied to global conflict, unpredictable travel patterns, and the ever-present danger of visitors attempting remote Kimberley tracks in vehicles wholly unsuited to the terrain.
The Western Australian government has allocated A$24.6 million toward safety and infrastructure for the event. Shire president David Menzel hopes this investment will outlast the spectacle — that upgraded campgrounds and tourism facilities will give the East Kimberley a lasting international profile rather than a single day of fame. But the window is narrow. With only one dry season remaining before the eclipse arrives, the community faces a compressed and consequential race to be ready.
In 2028, a five-minute stretch of total darkness will sweep across one of Australia's most isolated corners, and a small roadhouse called Doon Doon is about to become the center of the astronomical world. The East Kimberley region of Western Australia, sitting 3,000 kilometres north of Perth, will experience one of the longest solar eclipses of the century. For those five minutes of totality, the region expects to welcome around 25,000 visitors—a staggering influx for a place that currently operates with fewer than 100 permanent residents and staff.
Doon Doon itself is modest: a roadhouse known for its oversized burgers, staffed by a rotating crew of about a dozen people. Its manager, Shayne Stewart, learned about the eclipse opportunity just after the 2023 Exmouth eclipse, when his phone began ringing with booking requests. Americans wanted to reserve the entire caravan park. Japanese visitors inquired about staying near the nearby Aboriginal community of Woolah. The astronomical event, which will plunge the landscape into complete darkness for more than five minutes, has already begun reshaping how people think about this remote stretch of outback.
The challenge is not the eclipse itself—it's the scale. Stewart is candid about his anxiety. "I'm not so worried about the event. I'm worried about the size of it," he said. The roadhouse and surrounding community are already preparing. The caravan park is being expanded from 25 unpowered sites to 100. But the real pressure comes from imagining what happens when thousands of people converge on a place designed for dozens. "We don't want to sit back and not do anything and have people lined up out the door from here for the next 3km trying to get fuel or something to eat," Stewart explained.
Vivienne McEvoy, chief executive of the Kununurra Visitor Centre, has been fielding eclipse inquiries for a decade. She notes that travelers are treating this event with unusual urgency—they want to see it here, not later. "If they wait until they see it in Sydney, then photos and all the amazing stuff that happens around an eclipse have already been posted on social media," she said. This creates both opportunity and pressure. Tourism operators are thinking strategically about affordable airfares and accommodation, but they're also navigating global uncertainty. The Middle East conflict casts shadows over fuel costs and travel patterns. McEvoy cannot predict what fuel will cost in two years, yet safety planning must proceed anyway.
The Western Australian government has committed A$24.6 million (NZ$30 million) in this year's budget toward the 2028 eclipse event. The money is intended not just for the spectacle itself, but for keeping visitors safe in an environment that is beautiful and utterly unforgiving. The Kimberley landscape does not tolerate carelessness. McEvoy worries about visitors who think they can navigate remote tracks in two-wheel-drive vehicles. "It's about keeping people safe where they think they can travel down a little goat track in their two-wheel-drive vehicle," she said.
David Menzel, president of the Shire of Wyndham-East Kimberley, sees the eclipse as a catalyst for something larger. He hopes the infrastructure investments—upgraded campgrounds, improved tourism facilities—will have a useful life beyond the event itself. The region has always had the ingredients to attract international tourism. It needed the right moment and the right infrastructure. "We're hoping some of the spend on the infrastructure needs might have some useful life after the event," Menzel said. The East Kimberley has all the cards to become a sustained destination, not just a one-day wonder.
But time is compressed. Menzel is acutely aware of the deadline. "We've got one dry season to prepare for this influx of visitors," he said. The clock is running. In just over two years, a small roadhouse in the middle of nowhere will become a focal point for eclipse chasers from around the world. What happens in those two years—how well the infrastructure holds, how safely the event unfolds, whether the community benefits extend beyond the moment—will determine whether Doon Doon becomes a footnote or a turning point.
Notable Quotes
If they wait until they see it in Sydney, then photos and all the amazing stuff that happens around an eclipse have already been posted on social media.— Vivienne McEvoy, Kununurra Visitor Centre chief executive
We've got one dry season to prepare for this influx of visitors.— David Menzel, Shire of Wyndham-East Kimberley president
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why does a five-minute eclipse matter so much that 25,000 people would travel to the middle of nowhere?
Because it's rare and it's here. This is one of the longest eclipses this century, and the path of totality passes directly over this region. You can't see it from Sydney or Melbourne. If you want the full experience, you have to come to the Kimberley.
But the manager seems anxious about it. Why isn't he excited?
He is excited, but he's also realistic. His roadhouse serves a handful of people on a normal day. Suddenly he's expected to feed and fuel thousands. The infrastructure doesn't exist yet. That's not a small problem.
The government allocated A$24.6 million. That sounds like a lot of money.
It is, but it has to cover safety planning, infrastructure upgrades, emergency services, and facilities across the entire region. And it all has to happen in one dry season. The timeline is brutal.
What happens after the eclipse is over?
That's the real question. If the infrastructure investments—the expanded caravan parks, the upgraded facilities—become permanent assets, then the region benefits long-term. But if it's all built just for the event and then sits empty, it's a different story.
Is there a risk this goes wrong?
Yes. Visitors underestimating the Kimberley environment, infrastructure overwhelmed, fuel shortages, safety incidents. The region is beautiful but unforgiving. And they're preparing for an event they've never hosted before, at a scale they've never managed.
So why do it?
Because it's an opportunity that comes once in a lifetime. For a remote community, that's worth the risk.