Fireworks for all, one day only, in Australia’s last frontier

As fireworks lit up the three-mile coastline in the capital of Australia’s remote Northern Territory, a strip of grass along the beach went up in flames.

A few revelers used tree branches to put out the fire; a man poured water on the fire with one hand, while holding a beer in the other. But most, having judged the fire unlikely to spread, were content to continue setting off fireworks and waiting for firefighters to arrive to put out the blaze, which they did after about 15 minutes. About three feet from the fire, close enough to feel the heat, a few sparklers lit and danced with their two young children.

Welcome to Territory Day in the Northern Territory, the only place on mainland Australia where anyone can set off fireworks, no license required, no questions asked.

Along the beach from the grass fire, teens, encouraged by their friends, fired rockets—the kind designed to be placed on the ground and ignited—with their hands. Flashing flares slid across the sand and exploded in the water or among the crowd. A man stumbled past, with an upturned beach chair over his head for protection.

“Look out,” Michael Bonnett yelled, as a flare headed toward where he was lounging in the sand in lawn chairs with his wife, friends, and children. Everyone ducked when it exploded about a foot away, showering them with sparks.

“That was a bad one,” said Mr Bonnett, 40, cheerfully before shouting to a mate: “You almost got that!”

Such celebrations were once common in Australia, before states began banning consumer fireworks from the 1960s. Now its abode is the Northern Territory, a handful of towns and villages located in a vast, sparsely populated stretch from the heart of the country’s red outback to the northernmost tropics that some call Australia’s last frontier. (Tasmania also allows consumer fireworks one day a year, but a permit is required.)

Every July 1 in the Northern Territory, from 9am to 9pm, anyone over the age of 18 can purchase fireworks, set off from 6pm to 11pm

Although the tradition was once a version of Guy Fawkes dayin honor of Australia’s connection to Britain, it was changed in the 1980s to honor the day the area became a self-governing region.

That was part of an effort by local politicians to promote “local nationalism” and create a sense of “territorially exceptional and rugged individualism,” said Rolf Gerritsen, a political scientist at Charles Darwin University.

“While the states have banned crackers, the area has continued because it is still seen as something that makes the area unique,” added Professor Gerritsen, who lives in Alice Springs, the Northern Territory’s second largest city.

Things can go wrong and opponents abound: environmentalists; pet owners; other states expressed concerns about fireworks being brought across borders. Firefighters have put out nearly 100 wildfires related to Territory Day this year, according to emergency services. While no serious injuries have been reported in recent years, shrapnel from the explosion of a steel pipe used to fire fireworks was severed from a man’s arm this year, according to local news media. (It is reconfirmed.)

But fireworks manufacturers and sellers stressed that they are working closely with authorities to ensure their products pose minimal risk.

“They’re made as safe as possible,” said Mark Killip, the owner of Territory Day Fireworks. But, he added: “When people pick up fireworks and point them at someone else, there’s no getting around that.”

Running a business that is legal for only one day a year is also complicated.

Chris Lay, who annually converts his Asian grocery store, Oriental Emporium, into a fireworks store, said preparations will begin about a month later, with steps including applying for a permit to sell fireworks and hiring additional workers, including security guards. In the last days of June he started rearranging to make way for a large, temporary fireworks counter.

Northern Territory residents pride themselves on freedoms and responsibilities that no longer exist elsewhere in the country, said Darwin native Lay. “If someone tries to take that away from them, it almost indicates they’re in step with the rest of Australia,” he said. “And they hate that; they want to be known as pioneers.”

And with the majority fiercely protecting the event, local politicians have been reluctant to consider banning the practice.

For those who partied on the beach, the day represented many things. For some, an opportunity to honor the renegade spirit of their region. For others, a time to get together with family and friends, or to let loose on a booze-soaked night of risky fun. For many, it was all of the above.

“No rules, there are no rules here,” laughed Debbie Prendergast, 63, then ducked as a stray spinning firecracker shot overhead. She and her husband and son had just started setting off $400 worth of fireworks on the beach.

“It’s about spending time as a family,” she added. “And it’s like being a kid again.”

As the sun went down and the sky began to fill with fireworks, Stephanie Knight, 36, sat in the sand with her three young children and regularly warned to stay close to her. She was referring to something that Banjo Paterson, an Australian poet, had written of the Northern Territory in 1898: “One day it may be civilized and corrupt, but to date it has triumphantly overthrown all who have tried to improve it.”

That feeling was still true, she said. “You can’t tame the territory.”