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| Longreach water tower. |
Leaving Melbourne back in August was a
huge step for me. In the space of six months I had built an entire
life for myself with a great job, amazing friends and a suitably
dysfunctional place to live. Like Manchester and Hanoi before it,
Melbourne was one of those cities that had became a home outside of
Ireland and so it was incredibly difficult to leave behind. But in
addition to wanting to see more of Australia I felt like Melbourne
had peaked for me and I did not want to risk tainting so many
wonderful memories. However I had been saying such things for a few
months so at some point people stopped taking me seriously and
quietly assumed that I would find a way to live with them in
Melbourne forever. Around the end of July I snapped and handed in my
notice at work in an attempt to get my travelling arse in gear.
“So where's next?” “I've no
idea.” “Um...is that a joke?” It was not. Quitting my job was a
kick start that was failing to get me started. I did not have a plan
but felt strangely calm – I had always managed to land on my feet
in Australia even when I was on the verge of poverty with no job
prospects, things had worked out so in some weird way I trusted the country to look
after me. (It is possible that after a lifelong record of pessimism, some optimism is winning through). While I toyed with finding farm work to become eligible
for a second year visa I ultimately decided to look for bar or hotel
work in a small town somewhere to save up some money, try a different
pace of life and see this 'bush' I had heard so much about. (Yes, you may snigger at that). So I
hopped on Gumtree with the elaborate key word search of 'outback' and
'hospitality' to see what came up, figuring if I could not decide
where to go I might as well let the universe do the job for me. Or in
this case, the internet.
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| The Great Dividing Range |
A number of jobs around the country
came up and I applied for them all, only taking a quick glance on the
map to see where they were. It was only when I started to hear back
from people that I properly considered the towns they were trying to
get me to come to. One location sounded great – it was only an
hour's drive from the Fraser coast which conjured up fantasies of
days off on the beach but upon further research I realised the town
was home to about 400 people. I would never have coped. Then
there were the places that seemed so incredibly isolated that were
definitely beyond what I could deal with – roadhouses off by
themselves in the depths of the Northern Territory, serving only long
haul drivers with bad communication networks and the nearest town
hundreds of kilometres away. They had all the makings of a warm
weather version of The Shining, no thank you. Then came the call from Longreach,
one of the bigger outback towns on the Queensland map boasting a
couple of thousand residents – a Central West metropolis! The
conversation was less of an interview and more of a summons: “We
need someone and you sound good so come as soon as you can and bring
your dancing shoes.” I was sold.
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| Tropic of Capricorn marker |
Getting there was a lot of effort
since Longreach is further inland than a small island girl like
myself can fully comprehend. With flights from Melbourne
nearing $800 one way, I flew to Brisbane where I boarded the Spirit
of the Outback, a 24 hour train to Longreach. It was one of the best
default decisions I have ever made in my life. I had paid for an
economy sleeper cabin which was supposed to fit three people but
thankfully I had it to myself – a glorified cupboard with triple
bunk beds and a pull out basin, there was one power socket and
nothing else other than a large window for my viewing pleasure. I
boarded the train at night so it was not until the next morning when
we were storming across the countryside that I really got to
appreciate the scenery. As the train thundered through the Great
Dividing Range I was treated to rolling hills covered by dense forest before emerging into an infinite flatness with only an odd
hopping kangaroo or the occasional tree to break the constancy of the
landscape. I had never before witnessed so much of the horizon where
the pale cloudless sky skimmed along the scorched copper earth with
almost no interruption. As we went further into the interior, the
vegetation became sparser and what there was of it became paler,
almost as if it had been bleached – this was the picture of
the outback that had formed in my head; the 'vast nothingness' I had
heard not nearly enough about.
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| One of the little 'towns' we zipped past. |
For a while the train travelled
alongside what appeared to be a dusty dirt track upon which I only
spotted a handful of cars. This turned out to be the Capricorn
Highway (it runs parallel with the Tropic of Capricorn along which my
new home is situated), the main route from coastal town Rockhampton to
Central West Queensland. With the train, the highway ran through
towns so small we went past them in twenty seconds as they only
seemed to consist of a single shop and a handful of houses. I worried
what I was getting myself into, especially watching my phone signal
come and go. As we neared Longreach the sun began to set and the
landscape revealed the real advantage of being so bare; the one viewpoint
allowed me to witness every stage of the sunset from looking ahead
into the glowing orange sky, across into the violet blue and back
into the darkness of fallen night – it was truly spectacular.
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| The sun starting to set. |
Upon arriving in Longreach, my first
thought was 'Is that a water tower?' It was and I immediately had a
feel for a town so small and country that they had a water
tower (which also happens to be its most famous landmark). Everything you need is located in what is audaciously called
the town centre but is in reality half of a single street. Speaking
of streets, every single one in Longreach is named after birds. How
quaint can you get? For example, the pub-hotel I am working in (one
of four in the entire town) takes up a block flanked by Eagle Street,
Duck Street and Magpie Lane. There is also Pelican, Owl, Cockatoo,
Kingfisher, Spoonbill, Stork, Cassowary, etc. The town map is a
confused, misled ornithologist’s dream.
The people here are noticeably
different to those elsewhere in Australia, managing to be even more
easy going and laid back that their city and coastal counterparts.
The people always have a smile to share and a story to tell and you
get to know them quickly – after only a week here I could not go to
the shops without getting at least three friendly hellos. At this
point, those people who I do not know to speak to I at least
recognise. News travels fast here – everyone knows everyone's
business and are eager to spread it around. The men wear stetsons and
the women wear plaid. These are people who can remember the first
time they saw the sea although not all of them have. It is a small
but bustling community with great warmth and spirit.
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| Longreach Train Station |
The biggest shock about Longreach
for me is that I love it. Do not panic - I am not sick nor have I
been abducted by aliens and replaced with a drone; I am still and always will be a city slicker as I could not
imagine settling down to live in a place so small. I get bored and
restless although admittedly that can happen to me most places. There
are days that the only thing that gets me through is planning my trip
down the Queensland coast with an itinerary full of beaches,
nightclubs and fellow backpackers and yes, I dream of getting food
after 9.30pm and going on a pub crawl that lasts longer than three
pubs but those things can wait for the experience I am having here.
There have been a lot of drunken nights, silly laughter and lazy days which is largely what I like life to consist of. For me to be famously and vehemently anti-small town, my time here in
Longreach (eight weeks so far) has been a lovely break from urban
life and is letting me save enough money to fund the final Aussie
hurrah before flying home from Sydney on December 13th.
