Is this Australia's worst holiday destination?
In 2008, Mt Isa's mayor picked up some free publicity for putting out a call for ugly chicks to move to his town.
Snaggletoothed harridans, he suggested, would be welcome on his patch, as blokes outnumbered the girls five to one, and the hard-drinking miners had the beer goggles on most of the time anyway.
After visiting the mining town for the first time, I can tell you this: the blokes aren't going to be winning any glamour awards anytime soon. If you're a single female looking for a man, don't come here.
In fact, Mt Isa is, in the most gentle terms I can use in a family blog, a shithole.
If mineral resources hadn't been found there nearly a century ago, it would probably still be a blot on the map, sometimes passed by travellers on their way to the Red Centre.
Instead, it's now a city of more than 25,000.
It takes about 18 hours to drive to Mt Isa from Brisbane, or, if coming from the other direction, close to 25 hours from Darwin.
That's valuable time that could be better spent flossing your teeth, doing your nails, or hell, even lodging your overdue tax returns.
So this blog entry is short. Here's my advice: Give Mt Isa a wide berth.
Look, I know mining has its place. If it wasn't for mining, I wouldn't have my Macbook Pro, my gold fillings or my LandCruiser.
(pic: sustainable mining in action)
But places like Mt Isa still pretend to offer something for the leisure traveller.
Let's face it - it takes a special kind of person to seek out tourism experiences with an emphasis on the massive extraction of limited natural resources over many decades (they're often hopefully called 'heritage mine tours').
Problem is, every mining town I've ever been to has a couple of things in common.
First, there's no sign of the supposed massive wealth created by the mine. Usually, the houses are shabby, the people scary, and the food crap. The smart money is ripped out of the operation by the suits in Sydney and London.
Second, if you're after an aesthetically pleasing holiday experience, stick to the Whitsundays.
Mining towns are, in blunt words, freaking ugly.
Usually, as you drive in, you're greeted with piles of rusting scrap. Some call it historic mining equipment. I call it piles of rusting scrap.
As you leave, there's often a faded, broken sign saying something like 'Thanks for visiting Yellowcake, runner-up in the 1992 Tidy Towns Competition'.
Mt Isa is no different. It's got all the appeal of a dose of clap.
I won't be returning, unless it's to fill the tank with diesel (you don't have much choice. If you're travelling from the west, it's the only fuel stop in 500 kilometres).
Tomorrow, the nicest place I've been for a swim in 15 years.
Snaggletoothed harridans, he suggested, would be welcome on his patch, as blokes outnumbered the girls five to one, and the hard-drinking miners had the beer goggles on most of the time anyway.
After visiting the mining town for the first time, I can tell you this: the blokes aren't going to be winning any glamour awards anytime soon. If you're a single female looking for a man, don't come here.
In fact, Mt Isa is, in the most gentle terms I can use in a family blog, a shithole.
If mineral resources hadn't been found there nearly a century ago, it would probably still be a blot on the map, sometimes passed by travellers on their way to the Red Centre.
Instead, it's now a city of more than 25,000.
It takes about 18 hours to drive to Mt Isa from Brisbane, or, if coming from the other direction, close to 25 hours from Darwin.
That's valuable time that could be better spent flossing your teeth, doing your nails, or hell, even lodging your overdue tax returns.
So this blog entry is short. Here's my advice: Give Mt Isa a wide berth.
Look, I know mining has its place. If it wasn't for mining, I wouldn't have my Macbook Pro, my gold fillings or my LandCruiser.
(pic: sustainable mining in action)
But places like Mt Isa still pretend to offer something for the leisure traveller.
Let's face it - it takes a special kind of person to seek out tourism experiences with an emphasis on the massive extraction of limited natural resources over many decades (they're often hopefully called 'heritage mine tours').
Problem is, every mining town I've ever been to has a couple of things in common.
First, there's no sign of the supposed massive wealth created by the mine. Usually, the houses are shabby, the people scary, and the food crap. The smart money is ripped out of the operation by the suits in Sydney and London.
Second, if you're after an aesthetically pleasing holiday experience, stick to the Whitsundays.
Mining towns are, in blunt words, freaking ugly.
Usually, as you drive in, you're greeted with piles of rusting scrap. Some call it historic mining equipment. I call it piles of rusting scrap.
As you leave, there's often a faded, broken sign saying something like 'Thanks for visiting Yellowcake, runner-up in the 1992 Tidy Towns Competition'.
Mt Isa is no different. It's got all the appeal of a dose of clap.
I won't be returning, unless it's to fill the tank with diesel (you don't have much choice. If you're travelling from the west, it's the only fuel stop in 500 kilometres).
Tomorrow, the nicest place I've been for a swim in 15 years.
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