Notes from the Outback

Notes from the Outback - Part I

Where to begin in a place that is endless? I thought the miles of Pacific ocean coastline was the great Australian abyss, but flying over the Outback revealed Australia is beset by infinite. My partner, Camille, and I are in Blackall, Queensland for 3-4 months to work in a regional restaurant/pub/motel to check off the regional work box to extend our visas, but also, and maybe more importantly, see a different side of Australia. Immerse ourselves in a small Outback town that used to be a hub for sheep shearing and mining, but now is a hub for wandering Roo’s and Grey Nomads. Isolated and independent, Blackall is a blip on the radar even for most Australians.

I’m not sure that having a town this far out is a testament to man’s hubris or man’s brilliance.

The well water has a sulfuric taste and smell, the local grocer is almost certainly breaking child labor laws and it hasn’t dropped below 100 degrees all week. But there is a sense of quiet here, almost a forced quiet due to the nothingness around us. A point in space and time that drifts at its own pace. This minute dot in the center of Australia is also ungodly hot. The heat drives out not just life, but also different dimensions. 

There is no respite from the Sun. We are locked in mortal combat, and I know I will lose each day. It is truly a humbling and exhausting experience. It is testing what I thought I was capable of. It makes me feel a little better that even locals are begrudging this heat and making all attempts to stay cool. The sweat. My god, the sweat.

But out in this vast canopy of dirt and sun, there is a sense of untouched peace. The town may be dying, but the town is a tributary of the Outback, not the source. The Outback will survive, and it feels like we are trying to survive out here too.

Now this is Week 1. The immediate gratification and optimistic goggles are usually on as you orient yourself to a new place, vacation or destination. But knowing that 5 kilometers (I don’t use imperial units anymore. I have evolved) in any direction is laden with spotty shrubbery, endless red soil and many, many animals that would delight in sampling this sweat ridden body as an appetizer and entree does present a feeling of constraint. 

But at the same time the constraint is almost freeing. Without the mass opportunity of choice that is present in cities, here in Blackall, there is only one choice. The thin strip of town that has our motel/restaurant and the pub across the street. That’s it for brick and mortar entertainment. I’m sure the locals have much more creativity when it comes to entertainment and I hope to sample a slice of it, but there really is only 1-2 options for dinner and drinks.

This is such a drastic change from anything Camille and I have done, both together and through the past tomes of our own lives. My hometown of Edwardsville/Glen Carbon had a population of 25,000 and 2 McDonalds baby. Blackall has a population of 1250 and a cash only bakery open for a few hours each day. If Edwardsville was a small town then Blackall is an ant colony.

But where there are humans, there is life. It amazes me how adaptable people can be. How much we can attune to the way of the world, along with creating our own little worlds. 

Notes from the Outback - Part II

Forged in the fires of the blistering Outback heat, I am continuing to test my metal. Am I a brittle city boy, or will I be reforged into something stronger? Only time will tell. But I will tell you that the Outback is living up to the esteemed moniker of unrelenting heat and long days. It is still scorching hot, even abnormally hot for this time of year according to locals. If the locals are struggling, who have lived through a few summers here, the fires of this explorers forge are as hot as they get.

Speaking of locals, we have had mostly good experiences with the fine folk of Blackall, Queensland. Quick with a wave, and quicker with a round of beers, they like to stay and have a chat, but they do not linger for too long. They are curious but not enthralled. We are not the first travelers to have walked this path. They are used to the shift of labor tides that are Working Holiday Visa workers and they know they don’t stay too long.

While we are transitory, they are stationary. We are the flexible water flowing over their rock. But, just like me and you, they have their ignorances. I wonder if you have to rely on steadfastness and resilience to live in a place like this.

I do think we may be the first Missouri and Illinoisans to have crossed these tracks in quite some time, which always makes the world feel both small and grand. But in truth, the locals are like people anywhere. There are some good blokes and some right wankers. You stay away from the wankers, and you stick to the good blokes.

Interestingly, once I started wearing the trucker hat our chef Ka-Tut gave me to keep my face out of the sun, I started to get more friendly waves. It is hard to blend in when you are a 6’4” blonde athletic Norse/Pirate mix but one tries their best.

Now that we have two and half weeks under our belt, we have started to get a lay of the land. Helps when there isn’t much to survey. Half of the town is vacant and for sale. Nightlife is always a good currency for the comings and goings of a town. From a town with 4 pubs to just 1, the exchange rate of livelihood hasn’t served this place well.

It doesn’t feel like a place trying to regain its former glory, I’m not sure it ever had too much glory to return to. But it feels like a flower that is desperately trying to get sunlight that it can never reach, ever below the constant yellow sun. Slowly decaying but still fighting. The signs of the wear and tear of survival becomes a wound that won’t heal. But they keep going. Is that not the most human of fates? To stare down your fate and keep going. While Camille and I’s circumstances aren’t permanent here, we can still put on our work boots, do the best you can, and take your shirt off because it is bloody hot.

Notes from the Outback - Part III

Our Outback journey is undergoing some shake-ups and tumbles, but that is what constitutes something worth doing. Long story short, we decided to pivot and work in more of pub and less of a restaurant/cafe so we can get a different experience in our short time out here. We are now 9 hours north of Blackall in beautiful Julia Creek. Even smaller than Blackall, Julia Creek boasts a rousing population of 500. A rooster could croak on one side of town and wake the other side. Local has never had a more distinct definition. There are only cattle, locals and the pub for over 100 kilometers in either direction. I feel like a medieval traveler going to a new town to peddle goods and the townsfolk eye me with leery suspicion. One wrong step and it's the pitchforks and torches for me. I’ve already gotten heckled on my luscious golden locks and short shorts. A dangerous combination to bring to a traditional small town, but there is no razzle without the dazzle baby.

We are in the depths of Act II of our regional journey now. Once you are in the heart of the story, there are only challenges. The best we can do is embrace them, act on them, and adapt from them as we venture fourth into the unknown. Hopefully we can bring back some of that almighty elixir of true experience and perspective if we make it out of Act III.

This is where the boots get dirty and the romantic expectations meet brutal reality. No instagram filter can cover the hardships of the day in and the day out. The thin veneer of adventure slowly vanishes and you are met with washing 100 dishes at 9:30 PM to close the restaurant. You also start to see the real Outback. The good (my hair), the bad (my hair after a bartending shift) and the ugly (my hair after a kitchen shift).

The functioning alcoholic cracking some jokes and ordering his 7th rum and coke was bewildering entertainment for the first night, but it’s quite depressing after the 6th night in a row. Or the man who hasn’t left the pokies for 6 hours. He is endlessly tapping on the bright red button with a zombielike gaze, staring into the hopeful abyss of bright and stereotypic animated caricatures of ninjas and samurai that whispers… “with one more click and you could have the honor of the ancestors…. and a few thousand more dollars.” Alas, the honor nor the money ever come.

When you have nothing else to do, your vices become stronger than whispers. They beckon you to gallop away from boredom and ride into a brief moment of fun. Most heed the call, and unfortunately, it then becomes routine. The vice is no longer a vice, it is just normal life. The faint whisper has become your true voice.

Also, in this vast expanse, their lives are shielded from a wealth of different thoughts, experiences and ideas. Tradition is powerful and important, but not when it originates from isolation with no room to grow. It is as if they are stuck in a trench, battling the dangers of life, and instead of venturing into no-man's land, the protection of the trench deepens. Anything different stays in no-man's land. The trench only deepens when more ammo from the outside barrages against them. A very pretentious way of saying sometimes the ignorance here is extremely off putting. We all hold a degree of ignorance, but some of the attitudes are no trench I want to hunker in.

But that is not to say there aren’t parts of rural life and the Outback I have a deep appreciation for. There is an honesty to the people here that reflects the Outback. Unrelenting, upfront and unforgiving. When more of your time is spent on mere survival, you don’t have time for bullshit. This creates a true feeling of community that is present everywhere you go. You have to rely on each other out here. That unspoken camaraderie is such a force and a powerful reminder of the importance of our common humanity.

Another minor but incredible perk is something we all share, but few truly see. I haven’t seen a night sky with this many stars since I was a wee lad. Walking home from work every night I am struck with a weird combination of feeling existentially small but also indescribably big. Schrodinger’s Bartender. I am at once with the cosmos and outside the cosmos.

But at its heart, the Outback may seem the same in every direction, but if you look hard enough, there is so much to look at. You will find a depth of life and peace found nowhere else.

Notes from the Outback - Part IV

In the deep outback, there is only the beat of routine. Bereft of the drummings of civilization, we beat to the drum of the present day and present tasks. Wake up, work, write, workout, work and wrought the dark tidings of the gods.

Woe is me! I am no indentured servant (although they sometimes treat backpackers as such). We chose this. We are the architects of our actions and we bear the consequences. The glorious, the unforeseen and the tragic. Your own agency is always your most formidable ally.

And those consequences generate more stories for your entertainment and for my evolving worldview. One of these changes is something I did not expect. It is one of those experiences you have to learn firsthand, like riding your bike or ripping your pants twice in one day in the second grade.

Where once there was a cloud of envy and fear, there is a feeling of contentment here that brews in the soul. My need to impress others, compare myself to peers, and my desires of grandeur still shoot out into the world, but in the Outback, there is nothing to bounce it back to me. It just floats away. I feel more of the moment and understand that there are countless coming and goings around us, and you can only focus on so many.

My finger no longer hovers over Instagram to post a photo and my mind doesn’t naturally slip into comparisons. The coming and goings of others and the world need not take up all my attention. I wonder if it really is just a deeper sense of gratitude for the good things in life.

We have a pharmacy, hospital, gym, pool, a solid pub, two grocers and 2 hardware stores, and I have a great partner, and we are making some good money. We really don’t need much else. Everything else is a luxury. And maybe that is a part of the ingredients of this strange Outback potion that produces contentment. It makes life much easier when the view is more narrow and the goal posts of success don’t constantly shift.

I say this as we are planning a 5 day beach resort vacation in Port Douglas after regional work. The flip to this coin is that nobody says no to luxury. Nobody.

Now I haven’t reached enlightenment. This journey is only temporary and I don’t think I could do this permanently. Knowing we will only be in the Outback for a small time absolutely affects my view. There is a stop date and I am looking forward to the next stage. But, while we are here, we will gulp in as much of the Outback as we can.

Anddddd I just finished watching the Oscars and I want to be Rich and Famous again.

Notes from the Outback - Part V

I wake up, brush my teeth, and whisper into the bathroom wall since ours is missing a mirror, “For those who are about to die, we salute you” and head into the belly of the beast that is another Outback pub shift.

Hell yeah I watched Gladiator recently. After watching Gladiator, and working everyday except one the past 38 days, the notion of permeance has been at the forefront of my mind.

What is evergreen? And what is just green.

At this present moment, being a backpacker is temporary. My time in Julia Creek and the Outback is temporary. At the beginning of my time in Julia Creek, I was just Matty the Backpacker. I was simply the new help for the pub, part of a rotating crew that changes every 4 months. How many different pub workers has this town seen over the years? How fleeting the relationships.

But after a month, I really feel as if I am Matty the Barman now. That is the role I play in the town. When I see Vic the Butcher during the week, we will have a chat, I’ll make a small jib about his gambling addiction, we have a laugh, I buy his fresh chicken and then we go about our day. Or when Jonesy helped out in the kitchen last Friday to cover our cook’s vacation and he invited us to his family BBQ for Easter after the shift. Another regular didn’t think we would make it past the first week. But we did. He is now a good friend and I am glad to have proved him wrong. American GRIT baby!

At the heart of this transition is the heart of most crossroads. When the unknown becomes the normal. I embraced the experience, earned my keep, and provided a dope service to the community. And that in turn has created a sense of belonging and respect in this small slice of life in a big piece of land far from home.

Maybe that is what is permanent. Our time is temporary, but the connections have the staying power. The Universal’s of hard work, respect, friendship and love exist all around us. And when that connection is formed, in those moments, forever happens. A link to the deep reservoirs of the past, present and future of humanity.

Fascinating this life of ours. If you told me at 20 I would be washing dishes, pouring drinks and slanging food at 30 I would have shrunk out of embarrassment. But because I am doing it at 30, I have never felt more intrigued, passionate and excited about life and the human condition. 

Some things you can only find out through exploration.

We’re all living. And we’re all exploring. And that is no small feat. To all of you. I salute you. Keep finding those forevers.

Notes from the Outback - Finale

The curtain falls, the dust settles and Julia Creek lies only in the rear view mirror of the greyhound bus. Camille and I are finished with our Outback journey. A promise made, a quest fulfilled.

As I write this on the Greyhound bus at 1 AM in the desert, awake only from pure excitement and cheap coffee, I leave content.

I lived out here as best I could. The Outback demands no less.

A modern Icarus, drawn forward towards a goal that chased the sun across the vast horizon, rarely catching it but always humbled by it. It revealed the grit I didn’t know I had. I truly am a different man after our first year in Australia and our 4 months in the Outback. Better hopefully, a little more wise, surprisingly more fit and full of thanks.

Thank you to the Outback for the countless lessons and memories. It may be barren in the paddocks across the vast plain, but it is full of the human fuel that drives us. Love, community, hard work and resilience. In a town of 400, I have rarely felt more connected to the comings and goings around us. Not just a cog in the wheel, but a heartbeat in the lifeblood of this community. There is a measure of stillness here that most seek, yet few find.

It is also full of the human fuel that destroys us. Addiction, ignorance and recklessness. The levels of alcoholism, gambling addiction and nicotine dependency will stay with me a long time. Tradition is important. Vitally important. But when it delves into the liar of ignorance, where you won’t consider anything else, that is where the beasts lie.

So at the twilight of this particular journey, the finale has reached its end. A few lessons I will hold dear from my time here:

1. Respect is most definitely earned, not given. Money and titles don’t mean shit when there's shit that needs to be done.

2. There is always a helping hand. People are more willing to help if you show them kindness.

3. Every job is important. Work is work and there is always dignity in it.

4. Take care of your health. Maybe limit the beers when you are on your next vacation Matthew.

5. Mark the passing of the day. Watch as many sunsets and sunrises as you can. A beautiful hello and goodbye to the brevity of time.

6. Find ways to ignore the distractions. A lot of life is noise. Most of that was blocked by the Outback, where every day had a singular focus, but find ways to ignore the extra noise that just adds tension.

7. Shoot the shit, but defend yourself. Friendly banter is what gives conversation spice, but knowing when it crosses the line or if something is really distasteful, the only way to end it is to say so.

8. Walk the extra mile. You never know what person, meal or experience lies across a valley of misses. Something magnificent and noble is hidden somewhere.

9. Some people just suck. Stay away from the wankers. Do not waste your energy, time, or attention on them. Choose your fellowship wisely.

And that is what you can hope for on your travels. No place is perfect, there is no utopia, but you can see a different side of how we decide to live. You can appreciate some, you can repulse at others. But only through experience can you get that better picture of the truth.

As our bus arrives at our first destination at 7 AM before a flurry of travel, I am blessed to be under the gaze of one last red sunset. Red is the gods color, we will need their help in the journeys to come. It bodes us well. One journey ends, another begins. Always.