Issue 153

Head off the beaten track in Australia

26th February 2007

Australia has long been a top destination choice for Brits. Superb weather, a relaxed way of life and some of the best beaches in the world - it's a country to fulfil dreams. Whilst the East Coast, with its backpacker-friendly party towns and surfing hot spots, is undoubtedly the more immediate lure for young travellers, there's much to be said for stepping off the well-worn path and discovering the delights of inland Australia. Yes, I'm talking about the great Aussie outback.

Barely mentioned and rarely visited by tourists. The idea of miles of red dirt, long empty roads and small close-knit farming communities might not immediately grab you when, lets face it, there's waves to ride and beer to down over in Byron Bay and Surfers Paradise, but bear with me. As an eager, apprehensive 18-year-old, I was keen to see a bit more of this vast country than your average gap year student. Which is how, just a few days after flying into Brisbane, I found myself boarding a bus to Springbrook farm near Gympie in Queensland, run by the English couple, Dan and Joanna Burnet, who manage Visitoz.

They were going to teach me how to be a jillaroo. I must mention here that this was about a month before Prince Harry began his jackaroo work just North of where I was, so by no means was I jumping on the bandwagon. I like to think it was me who set the trend! On the first day of what was to be an intensive weeklong course in learning to become a skilled farm hand, after being kitted out in the obligatory Acobra hat, we went off for a peaceful afternoon trek koala-spotting. That was until my horse ran away with me.

Galloping across rocky snake-infested terrain, my primary aim was to stay on the thing. Over streams, under low-hanging tree branches; as an experienced horse rider, in normal circumstances I would have loved every adrenalin-fuelled minute but devoid of control and with infinite kilometres of outback in front of me, I was terrified. I finally brought my horse to a halt at the top of a hill and waited for the instructor, Ed, to find me.

The next day, with a split lip and mutilated arms, I was shown how to herd cattle on foot. Running from a charging Brahman cow, I sprained my hand on the gate. Still, at the end of an exhausting but exhilarating week of fence-repairing, tractor driving, chopping trees with chainsaws (I was put in full protective gear and watched over by an extremely tense, near-despairing Ed), herding cattle on horseback, on foot, in car and on motorbikes, I was pronounced ready for employment.

Visitoz helped me find a job with a lovely family called the Dight's on the New South Wales border in a tiny town called Yetman (several hundred- thousand-acre farms centred around a tiny pub), an hour from the main town (which consisted of a bank and a hardware store), Goondewindi (don't you love Aussie town names!). I worked for Mrs Dight's father in Armadale for a week, in a sheep shearing shed (a whole other story, believe me) before becoming the Dight's au pair and general skivvy.

The work was laborious; pregnancy testing cows, turfing the dried-up lawn, and minding two young children, but, and I know this sounds slightly clichéd, the place made me feel alive. From idly canoeing down the Macintyre river, watching pelicans take flight into the huge expanse of blue sky, to charging across the outback on horseback (this time voluntarily), past startled kangaroos, the sheer size and true beauty of the country is both daunting and invigorating. From teaching the two-year old boy I was looking after how to ride a pony, befriending two geckos who sheltered each night in my room, to learning to cook using only the ingredients from the garden (that included the cows), the freedom, space, and proximity to so much nature 'out there' is truly inconceivable.

Veering off the beaten track, abandoning the alluring bright lights of the city for a moment, and living somewhere where the barmaid knows all seven of her punter's 'usuals', where the air you breathe is reassuringly pollution-free and tinged with gold dust, where the farmers pray for rain like it is a faroff dream and where the stars in the night sky are like nothing you have ever seen before, is a cultural experience no traveller should skip.

Kate Fletcher