So I’ve been itching to boost our little town’s economy without wrecking what makes it special, right? Community eco-tourism kept popping up in conversations at the coffee shop. One rainy Tuesday, I grabbed my soggy notebook and sketched this mess:
Step 1: Stalking Local Gems
Busted out the pickup truck and spent two weeks driving every dirt road within 20 miles. Made notes on:
- Old Mrs. Henderson’s insane wildflower field nobody visits
- Abandoned railroad tracks perfect for biking
- Fishermen fixing nets down at the docks at sunrise
Took crap phone pics and ate way too many gas station hot dogs.
Step 2: Cornering People at Church Potlucks
Started casually ambushing neighbors between casseroles: “Hey Bert, if tourists paid to help you prune apple trees Tuesday mornings…” Got responses like:
- “Dumbest idea since Gloria dyed her poodle purple” (thanks Dave)
- “You’ll manage permits HOW?”
- But Carol the pottery lady whispered: “I’d teach clay workshops.”
Step 3: Paperwork Wrestling
Turns out you need:
- Insurance forms thicker than my arm
- Maps marked with “tourist peeing zones”
- Signed promises not to let visitors pet coyotes
City hall clerks knew me by name after week three. Brought them donuts.
Step 4: Trial Run Chaos
Recruited my cousin’s boy scout troop as fake tourists. Disaster log:
- Mrs. Henderson’s “scenic path” was just a deer trail through poison ivy
- Local BBQ joint ran out of food in 20 minutes
- Birdwatching stop featured one angry pigeon
Fixed routes and begged the butcher to stock extra ribs.
Step 5: Pay-What-You-Can Pandemonium
Launched with NO fixed prices. Wild results:
- Hippie couple paid $50 for flower picking
- College kids threw in $3 and a half-eaten candy bar
- Carol made bank selling ugly mugs to retirees
Pivot: Now we suggest $15-$25 sliding scale. Candy bar guy got banned.
Moral of the Mess
Just start stupid small. Like, embarrassingly small. My “professional” brochures were photocopied at the library. First meeting happened at Dave’s bait shop smelling of dead minnows. But when old man Jenkins started charging $5 to tell fishing lies? That’s when we knew.
