Cattle train ... a drover sets out.Credit: South Australia Tourism Commissi
It's been a long, dusty day in the saddle. Some of the nation's finest drovers, with me tagging along, have moved 500 head of Santa Gertrudis cattle along the Oodnadatta Track. I've had a hot shower, tucked into saltbush lamb and pavlova and now I'm resting my sore bum on a hay bale around a campfire.
Joe Ahern bus driver, storyteller, mechanic, and musician strums a guitar and sings the haunting . And with beers in hand, we join the chorus: "And I won't be back 'til the droving's done ..."
For a city slicker like me, the outback can feel, well, out there. To get here under my own steam would require perhaps 12 hours in a four-wheel drive from Adelaide. There is another way, however, which mixes wide open spaces, horseriding, bush poetry and great characters: The Great Australian Outback Cattle Drive.
The first drive took place in 2002 during the Year of the Outback. Created by outback identities Keith Rasheed and Eric Oldfield, the aim was to celebrate legendary cattle drives, in which thousands of head of cattle were herded along the Birdsville Track. Next year's drive, on several dates in July and August, will take place along the Oodnadatta Track in South Australia.
You don't have to be an experienced rider to join a drive. Cattle drives occur at walking pace and the point is to enjoy the meandering journey, sip billy tea at smoko and share stories around the campfire at night. Horses are carefully matched with riders and even novices can enjoy the experience.
We fly from Adelaide to the subterranean opal-mining town of Coober Pedy, where Ahern collects us for a two-hour drive east through red gibber plains. At the Anna Creek railway siding, we are greeted by a bevy of red-shirted staff at a marvellous outback camp beside the Old Ghan railway and a coolabah-lined waterhole.
At the heart of the camp is a large white marquee where we'll enjoy gourmet tucker and boss drover Randall Crozier welcomes us. "You are about to experience a world that most Aussies only dream about," he says, adding: "Now we are on bush time: when the sun is up, we work; at sundown, we play."
There are several well-defined play areas: a corrugated-tin bar, a campfire and a library. Our tents each have a chair, table and lamp outside. Inside, there are two camp beds on carpeted floor and a handy bag containing a water bottle, sunscreen, torch, bandana and fly net.
At six, the chef blows his bugle wake-up call for a hearty breakfast: fresh fruit, porridge, poached eggs, spinach, bacon, tomatoes, mushrooms, juice and plunger coffee. By nine, we're in the saddle behind a slow-moving rumble of cattle. The drovers are whistling, some making guttural noises that echo the lowing of the cattle. Wingmen rustle up wayward heifers that have wandered in search of saltbush. The drovers make the smallest move, such as the flick of a whip, look effortless. Rider and horse act in harmony.
Our mounts are sturdy, sure-footed work horses from Anna Creek Station, the largest in the world and almost the size of Belgium. The drovers range in age from Crozier's 11-year-old son to indigenous drovers Ronnie and Ross Finn, who are now in their seventies and taught Crozier everything he knows about the bush.
In the next few days, I chat to Eric from France, Sally from Sydney, Yvonne from New Zealand and American Brian, who has never been on a horse. A few have experience and full riding gear; others don't have a clue. Most of us look rather ridiculous in our helmets with basin-hat brims, though Brian is happy he's wearing one when, on the second day, he lets go of the reins to take off his jacket. His horse bolts and Brian ends up in the saltbush.
That night, we head to William Creek (population 10) to roast Brian's bruised ego at the pub. Built in 1887 to serve the Ghan railway line, the pub is quite a sight. Every surface is decorated with licence plates, caps, business cards, autographed bras and money.
In the saddle the next day, I amble alongside lead drover Max Gorringe. The crown of his Akubra is trimmed with crocodile skin and his stockwhip is tied around his shoulders.
"Randall and I met when we were brumby runners up in Queensland," he tells me. "I was nine and Randall was 12." Gorringe manages the Aboriginal-owned Elsey Station in Northern Territory, the site of the outback classic novel and movie We Of The Never-Never.
"It's a hard life," he says, "but I wouldn't trade it for the world."
Each day we settle into an easy rhythm, dictated by the steady gait of horse and cow. The white noise of urban minutiae has vanished, replaced by cattle, horses, sun, blue sky, a sharp red horizon and new mates.
On our last night, Brian wins the "best dismount of the drive" and picks up a harmonica to accompany musicians Rohan Powell and Ian Polities in their rendition of Waltzing Matilda. There are cheers and farewells under a brilliant starry sky. "It feels like you are on the very edge of creation out here," Crozier says. And he's right.
Sue Gough Henly travelled courtesy of the South Australian Tourism Commission.
There are six, five-day cattle drives scheduled from July 30 to August 29 next year. They depart from Anna Creek campsite; there are bus transfers from Adelaide and Coober Pedy. The cost is $3200 a person, including accommodation, meals, non-alcoholic drinks, horse riding and guided coach tours. See cattledrive.com.au.
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