Rob Oakes runs his weathered fisherman's hands through wispy hair in frustration.

He speaks with a cigarette rasp above the barking of a grizzled Jack Russell called Dougie.

"I've been here since 1970, and things have never been so bleak," the 62-year-old says.

"It's a beautiful place to be, but I'm nearly at the end of my tether."

Rob Oakes was the council caretaker of the Macquarie Heads site for 13 years. ( ABC News: Henry Zwartz )

He's in the kitchen of a shack at Macquarie Heads, about 15 kilometres south-west of Strahan, on the edge of Tasmania's rugged, remote west coast.

The shack is little more than an aluminium caravan with a 3-by-3-metre annex, but to the people who spend time in the 90 or so leasehold sites, they're a precious escape.

Now many in the shack community feel their lifestyle is under threat, with rising council rates putting them under pressure.

The kind of freedom that gives you 'that electric feeling'

Tasmania's west coast is a region of extremes.

Macquarie Heads mark the entrance to Macquarie Harbour, an expanse of water six times the volume of Sydney Harbour and one of Australia's most important sites for industrial salmon farming.

Between the heads runs a treacherous shallow channel that convicts dubbed Hells Gates, not just because of the perils of navigating it, but because it led to their hell on earth — Sarah Island, the most severe and isolated prison in colonial Australia.



Locals still refer to the area as the "edge of the world" because the nearest land mass that greets you as you sail due west from the rough shoreline is South America.

The Macquarie Heads community has about 81 shacks. ( ABC News: Henry Zwartz )

It's a place that attracts characters seeking freedom, isolation, a raw way of life.

Rob is one such person.

"I built my place here with my own hands and moved around the area for 40 years," he says.

A council caretaker of the site for 13 of those years, he says the place has become "part of my blood".

"There is freedom here, and I mean scary freedom, the kind which gives you that electric feeling, the kind that can be a little frightening," Rob says.

'We're in God's country here'

Garry and Barbara Wing come to the shack to go fishing and "get lost". ( ABC News: Henry Zwartz )

Campers from around the world visit the place for fishing.

Brief messages carved on tables reveal visitors from Canada, the US and Europe.

Garry and Barbara Wing came here 20 years ago and kept coming back.

"We're in God's country here," says Garry, sitting in the living room of the family shack beneath a wall covered with fishing paraphernalia.

"It is some of the best fishing in the world, period."

Garry and Barbara Wing have been coming to Macquarie Heads for 20 years. ( ABC News: Henry Zwartz )

The Wings started off in a tent here before building their shack in the early 2000s.

"We take pride in this place, in our place," Barbara says, casting her arms towards the impeccable garden outside.

"It's a real family community and a dream to visit here every summer."

Garry has kept a diary from the first day they spent at the site — 1 July 2001.

"It becomes a part of you, this place," he says, leafing through the salt-stained book.

Rising costs forcing people to leave

Garry Wing says council fees are a financial stretch. ( ABC News: Henry Zwartz )

Like Rob, the Wings are confronting the possibility their dream escape may come to an end.

"We're retired, so the fees each year are a financial stretch. If things continue at this level, we may have to just pack up and leave," Garry says.

In 2017, Tasmania's West Coast Council increased the annual fees for leaseholders to about $1,400 a year.

Those fees are estimated to garner between $100,000 and $140,000 for the council annually.

Barbara Wing says she and her husband take pride in their place. ( ABC News: Henry Zwartz )

The leaseholders argue the fees are higher than the rates they pay for their permanent homes in urban centres.

Garry and Rob say that in recent months, 18 leaseholders have left the site for good because of the costs.

But it's not just growing fees for leaseholders that leave some feeling like the walls of the parcel-sized "dreams" they've built are collapsing around them.

Ageing leaseholders are worried they won't be able to pass the leases on to their children, and that their children won't be able to get their own leases through council because of future demand.

The shack community as it exists now could be going through a slow death.

But there are plans to breathe new life into it.

'There's nothing to be scared of'

The shacks have been built over decades. ( ABC News: Henry Zwartz )

Last year, the State Government pledged $200,000 to extend the campground and upgrade facilities, and council has said it would also pump hundreds of thousands of dollars into the project.

West Coast Mayor Phil Vickers says all the sites are compliant with current laws and that leaseholders have "nothing to be scared about".

"Council believes there is a good future for the sites, both for the short-term and long-term campers," he says.

"The sites are now compliant and we don't see any reason to remove them.

Garry Wing's wall is littered with fishing paraphernalia ( ABC News: Henry Zwartz )

"In fact, we are considering plans to increase the current size of the campsite by between 10 to 50 sites."

The Mayor believes that the rates set last year won't increase much into the future, but says that requests by leaseholders to pass leases on within the family are "unfair".

"We can't have two classes of people, those who get leases forever and those that want them but can't have them because they are full," he said.

'We've done just fine without their help'

Greg Purton has been visiting the site since he was 14. ( ABC News: Henry Zwartz )

On the 30-kilometre stretch of sand known as Ocean Beach, Greg Purton is exploring the giant sand dunes on a quad bike with his greyhound.

It's a favourite stomping ground for the 39-year-old, who has been visiting with his father Rod since he was 14.

Both Rod and Greg are sceptical of Cr Vickers' assurances.

"For decades, the system has been to get site permits every few years to keep our long-term spots," Greg says.

"But that's all up in the air now. Once you're out you're never going to get it back."

Rod built his shack in the early 1990s, and the family have been regular visitors each summer.

Rod Purton says the shack way of life is "under threat". ( ABC News: Henry Zwartz )

"Promises have been made about investing in this site sure, but we've built toilets with our own hands," he says.

"We do just fine without their help and we don't need the huge rates. We are pensioners, young families," the 69-year-old says.

"What we are all concerned about is they keep upping the rates and kill the dream we have here.

"What we have here is a Tasmanian tradition. It's under threat."

Others are philosophical about the future of their campsite.

"It's sad to see a good thing could go with the high rates, but some things do come to an end in time," Barry Hill says between sips of pitch-black coffee.

"What we have here is a way of life that older Tasmanians would know about, when things were freer, when government left you alone.

"But things change, and it's not always for the better."