Imagine a beach so breathtaking, its sands literally squeak underfoot, and its waters shimmer like liquid crystal. This isn't a fantasy—it's Squeaky Beach, crowned Australia's best in 2024 and a global runner-up in 2025. But here's where it gets controversial: could this natural wonder be loved to death by the very people flocking to experience its magic? And this is the part most people miss: the delicate balance between sharing these treasures and preserving them for future generations is far more fragile than we realize.
Nestled on the east side of Wilsons Promontory National Park in Victoria, Squeaky Beach owes its allure to its pristine white quartz sands and the mesmerizing hues of its offshore waters. Yet, as its fame grows, so does the strain on its ecosystem. Take, for instance, the viral Instagram post by K-pop sensation Jennie from Blackpink, who shared a photo of herself at Lincoln’s Rock in the Blue Mountains. Her post, liked over 4.5 million times, sparked a tourist frenzy that overwhelmed the site. The result? A surge in litter, illegal parking, vandalism, and even human waste in the bush. The situation became so dire that the Blue Mountains City Council was forced to close the site temporarily, fearing fatal accidents after several near-misses.
While Squeaky Beach hasn’t reached the same tourist volumes as the Blue Mountains, its visitor numbers are climbing rapidly. In 2024, the year it was named Australia’s best beach, the Prom saw an estimated 400,000 visitors annually. By 2025, that number jumped to 500,000, and this year, projections exceed 600,000. Here’s the kicker: as crowds descend on the beach, especially during summer, the impact is undeniable. Tourists clamber over fragile dunes, leaving behind rubbish and accelerating erosion. These dunes aren’t just sand—they’re living ecosystems, home to endangered species like the hooded plover and southern brown bandicoot.
A former ranger, speaking anonymously, warns that the beach is being loved “within an inch of its life.” Last month, this publication witnessed busloads of tourists trampling the dunes, despite warning signs. Brett Mitchell, the area’s chief ranger, emphasizes the irony: while visitors come to marvel at the squeaking sands and crystal waters, their actions threaten the very features they’ve come to see. Fencing the dunes, however, isn’t feasible due to their ever-shifting nature, leaving rangers to patrol and clean up after visitors.
So, what’s the solution? Parks Victoria launched a consultation in 2023 to develop a new management plan for the Prom, with one bold idea taking center stage: limiting visitor numbers to ensure long-term sustainability. Yet, the draft plan, initially promised for 2024, has been delayed twice. The agency is now collaborating with traditional owners, a process that, while crucial, is time-consuming. But here’s the real question: can we strike a balance between accessibility and preservation? As Jordan Crook from the Victorian National Parks Association points out, the number of park rangers has actually declined since 1998, despite Victoria’s population growing from 4.6 million to over 7 million. With fewer boots on the ground, who will protect these treasures from being ‘loved to death’?
What do you think? Should we prioritize unrestricted access to natural wonders, or is it time to implement stricter controls? Let us know in the comments—this debate is far from over.
