The Potential of Rural Tourism

The struggles small towns face in today’s economy became apparent within the first week on the road — and they’ve only cemented through 27 states and months of ongoing travel. 

A back highway gives way to a small main street, the speed dropping from 55 to 25 or 30. Brick buildings and glossy storefronts line both sides, dots of architecture from decades past. At first glance, it looks idyllic in the languid afternoon air — the set of a Hallmark film. 

As I crawl through the few blocks that make a main street, it shifts from idyllic to a relic: a living time capsule of a bygone era. Most of the storefronts are empty, faded realtor signs and chipping window paint linger on dusty glass. Awnings are sagging from age and sun exposure. There’s nary a car to be seen. 

Which leads to the question: how will this town survive? 

The economy has shifted dramatically in the 21st century. Technology has taken a spot at the forefront of job creation (and job replacement), which leads to immense innovation and new opportunities. But, for small towns — many of which relied on manufacturing and other industries — it has also led to new struggles and questions about survival.

When discussing how to “save” small towns, there are vocal supporters of rural tourism: a trend of community and economic development that focuses on small family-owned businesses. Catching onto this trend has the potential to revitalize an area, bringing in an influx of money that pays off in dividends through the local community. It can go to improve schools, upgrade infrastructure, and support other community projects. 

Gaylord is a town of about 3,000 people who have embraced their ideal location between multiple lakes and golf courses in the center of northern Michigan. In the past decade, they have invested immensely in their town and its small businesses, leaning into the service industry to completely remake the main street into a draw for tourists (and locals) alike. Nearly every storefront is filled with local restaurants, cafes, shops — even a brewery. 

On a Saturday night in mid-summer, it’s clear the efforts were working. The patios were packed with groups of men fresh off the golf course and restaurants were filled with people coming from a series of nearby lakes. People in town make nearly all their money from Memorial Day to Labor Day, I was told. The key is to make it stretch the rest of the year. 

Looking at the success of Gaylord and other towns like it, it’s hard not to prescribe tourism as a universally saving measure. If it works so well in one place, why can’t it be replicated to solve economic troubles across a hundred more? 

Critics of rural tourism say the influx of visitors can lead to more money — but it can also lead to losing the slow way of life they love. “Tourism could save this town, but people here won’t do it,” a woman from Ontonogan, Michigan said. “They don’t want outsiders.”

The pushback comes from fears of increased land values and cost of living, which pushes out locals who’ve lived in these small towns for generations in a trend of rural gentrification. When a place is “discovered,” or becomes trendy, there is a risk that higher income households will displace lower income residents, changing the heart of the community at large. 

For instance, people who work in Gatlinburg, Tennessee often live an hour away (or more!) and drive through the mountains to work in the restaurants, bars, hotels, and other services that cater to thousands of tourists every year. They don’t visit any of the establishments that cram into main strip and shake their heads in dismay at the exponentially rising prices, which begs the question: is anyone truly “born and raised” in this Smoky Mountain town? 

In other scenarios, this displacement can lead to outright resentment. There is a vocal pocket of locals in the Berkshires who are actively campaigning to restrict the trend of urban dwellers buying up homes that then sit empty for most of the year. Complaints are raised by these Massachusetts residents that every multi-million dollar home sold increases the value of all the homes around it — pushing out people who are barely scraping by on incomes otherwise adequate for the rural environment. 

Additionally, there is skepticism about the long-term success of tourism. Longtime residents recall the glory days of mills, mines and other manufacturing — times where their towns were flooded with workers and success abounded. “We just need a [enter manufacturing option here],” I’ve been told, over and over again, all across the country. 

But with the changing economy (and the competing low costs from overseas manufacturing) it’s hard to envision a business that would willingly take the price hike — or the people who would actually spend more for an item made in the USA. For instances, surveys suggest that support of buying locally made items drops by 38 percent when the item’s price doubles. 

So what is the right answer? 

Is it worth investing in tourism, looking at a region with a critical lens and highlighting the beauty it has to offer — even if you risk displacing the people who make the area as special as it is? Or should we invest in other sectors: manufacturing or technology and internet-based employment options to buoy towns with a new remote economy? 

For thousands of people across the United States, the future of their lives and their communities hangs in the balance. The fight for survival is a constant stressor. 

The answer may be unclear, but one thing is for certain: change may be scary (and perhaps even unwanted) — but it is needed.