The true cost of living remote in the Karoo

Anyone who has driven the long, ruler-straight roads of the Great Karoo knows the sensation of space so great it almost swallows you whole.

Beyond the landmark towns like Graaff-Reinet or Beaufort West, entire communities carve out lives at the far edges of nowhere. Near towns like Victoria West, where the N12 cuts through scrubland dotted with windmills, remote living is not a romantic ideal but a daily practice that shapes people in unexpected ways.

Where the road ends, life continues
Take Loxton, a small Northern Cape settlement where stone houses and pepper trees line gravel streets. Fewer than 1,500 people live here year-round. Many residents run Karoo farms, where distances between neighbours are measured in tens of kilometres. The delivery van and local co-op become lifelines for supplies, news and the odd friendly conversation.

When Cape Town’s well-heeled dream of remote working, they often picture Wi-Fi under a verandah with sheep grazing nearby. In Loxton, reality checks that vision.

Internet speeds vary wildly and thunderstorms can knock out connections for days. Cellphone reception clings mostly to a single tower near the old railway line. Yet those who stay swear by the silence and the sense that here, a person can still belong to the land.

Work, home and endless sky
Remote living in the Karoo means work and home are rarely separate. The region’s farms, guesthouses and roadside padstalle (farm stalls) are run by families who do it all themselves.

Many balance sheep or game farming with side ventures like selling biltong, goat’s cheese or dried fruit to passing travellers. In Carnarvon, on the fringes of the SKA radio telescope project, some families have found new income by hosting technicians and researchers in converted sheds or old family homesteads.

Locals say the biggest luxury is not space but self-sufficiency. Solar panels, boreholes and gas fridges are common. Many households keep their own vegetable patches and small flocks of chickens. A trip into town for supplies can mean an entire day on the road, so running out of basics is not an option.

The community that distance makes
Karoo towns like Sutherland, famous for its clear skies, show that even in isolation, community life can flourish. The local hotel doubles as a gathering point for astronomy enthusiasts and farmers alike. A Saturday braai might include astronomers and sheep shearers in equal measure. Here, the sense of remoteness makes neighbourliness feel urgent and valuable.

Festivals, farmers’ markets and Karoo art galleries spring up in unexpected places. In Nieu-Bethesda, the Owl House continues to draw thousands each year, inspiring residents to decorate gates and stoeps in ways that turn the whole village into a living gallery. Small acts of beautification become a way to declare presence in a place that can feel indifferent to human life.

Not always a quiet life
Life on the edge of nowhere can be harsh. Drought cycles, which have become longer and more frequent, test even the toughest. Water shortages force farmers to sell off stock or truck in water at high cost.

In the small towns, young people often leave for better opportunities in the cities. Those who remain do so knowing there are trade-offs: freedom and solitude balanced by hard labour and financial uncertainty.

Yet there is an unspoken pride in sticking it out. Many locals say there is no truer luxury than watching a Karoo thunderstorm roll in or stepping outside at night to skies so clear the Milky Way seems close enough to touch. 

The truth of nowhere
Remote living in the Karoo has never been an escape from the world but rather a deeper commitment to it. It is a life where people know their neighbours, trust their instincts and depend on their own resourcefulness.

For visitors passing through Victoria West, Loxton or Carnarvon, these towns might seem like tiny specks on a map. For those who call them home, they are the centre of everything.