Nestled in the foothills of the Stanley State Forest half an hour south of the NSW-Victoria border, Yackandandah is a thriving town with glistening solar panels on almost every public building, postmen on electric bikes and a service station communally owned by nearly every person in town. It's a renewable energy utopia made possible by a community-led response to the impending closure of the petrol station 20 years ago. In 2002, the only petrol station in town announced it would close its doors in just 10 days, leaving the townsfolk without access to fuel. It was a kick in the guts that galvanised seven locals to pool their money and buy the servo, something that has positioned Yackandandah as a pioneer for regional communities pulling themselves up by their bootstraps. "They'd been here when the banks left and they realised that the government or anyone else was not likely to step in and help in this situation," says Ian Fitzpatrick, Yackandandah Community Development Company (YCDCo) chairman, of the original founders of the social enterprise. "If they were going to save it in some form or another, they'd have to do it themselves." Twenty-one years later, YCDCo is owned by 650 local shareholders under a co-op model. The profits from the service station support projects like sports clubs, a community newspaper, and the push for Yackandandah to become Australia's first 100 per cent renewable energy powered town. "The culture that allowed the emergence and success of YCDCo was critical in our success as well," says Totally Renewable Yackandandah chair Matt Charles-Jones. The small town is well on its way to achieving its big renewable goals by 2027. Sixty per cent of the village's electricity supply already comes from renewable sources and several residents enjoy negative power bills. And a community owned 274-kilowatt-hour battery housed in an old sawmill on the edge of town powers 40 homes through each evening. "It's really nice to imagine a town or a world where we live within our resource means," Charles-Jones says. It's a shining example of the wonderful world of co-ops, enterprises that are owned, controlled, used and invested in by their members. You can be a member of a co-op without even knowing it. Norco, RACV, Australian Unity and Teachers Mutual Bank are all run under a cooperative structure. It's a way of resisting the kind of traditional capitalist structures which encourage large businesses to centralise profit. Modern regional Australia has a rich history of community-led solutions to existential crises. The people of Killarney, a town of just 900 in the Southern Downs area of Queensland, first joined forces to shore up their future more than a century ago. Locals pooled their funds to support the struggling butter factory in 1922 and the Killarney co-op was born. The dairy co-op thrived and, in time, expanded. With over 2000 active members today, it punches well above its weight, offering the community a supermarket, electrical appliances retailer, hardware store, petrol station, rural supplies shop and a post office. General manager Marissa Costello says profit is not the main goal. "We're trying to keep services in town and just look after our members," she says. "We didn't have a doctor in town for quite a few years and the co-op renovated a premises to be able to rent to a GP, which was not profit generating. And just this year, we've opened a book exchange." It's not just a lack of essential services that has small towns scrambling for innovative solutions. The housing crisis is deeply felt in the regions where vacancy rates are at record lows and rents have surged. In the Bega Valley, existing pressure on the housing stock was exacerbated by the black summer bushfires which displaced many in the area, and the Airbnb holiday rental market which has reduced the amount of long-term rentals available. But the community has responded magnificently to the challenge, raising $350,000 in just 18 months through fundraising, music gigs and local donations to support the 'It's up to Us' initiative led by the Social Justice Advocates of the Sapphire Coast, which arranges crisis accommodation in the valley. Six transportable units about the size of a tiny home are dotted around the Bega Shire. Families or individuals in crisis can live in the units for six months as services help their transition to more permanent residences. It's Up to Us spokesperson Michael Brosnan says while locals are frustrated by a lack of investment in social housing, they have taken on the challenge of housing their neighbours with gusto. "Community gets it, they understand. They don't want people sleeping rough, in their cars hidden away," he said. "Unfortunately, the reality is this problem is going to be with us for quite a while. There are no magic wands. It's up to us." IN OTHER NEWS: