Imagine driving 260 kilometres every time you picked up your mail.
That would be the reality for Helen Williams at Nilpinna Station, in remote South Australia, if it wasn’t for the Outback Mail Run.
Two days a week Nilpinna cattle station receives a visit from outback postie Bruce Ross who delivers mail, fruit, vegetables and other supplies.
For Mrs Williams, the mail run is a lifeline.
“I know some stations only get their mail once a week and come by plane and they certainly wouldn’t be able to bring a lot on a plane,” she said.
“Here we don’t have to worry, we can go months really and not go anywhere.”
The postal service saves many in the vast and sparsely populated outback from travelling such big distances.
Mrs Williams has relied on it for more than two decades.
Nilpinna cattle station stretches for more than 5,500 square kilometres of gibber tableland and sand hill country 70km north of William Creek on the Oodnadatta Track.
The tiny, isolated township consists of little more than a hotel and pop-up medical facility. The nearest store from Nilpinna Station is 130km away in Coober Pedy.
Eyes and ears on the road
Every week, mailman Bruce Ross clocks up at least 1,200km behind the wheel with two 600km trips delivering supplies.
Contracted by Australia Post, he is based in the opal mining town of Coober Pedy.
Each Monday and Thursday he is up at 5:30am to check his car and trailer are in tip-top shape before loading up.
His first stop is the local store where he retrieves up to 40 boxes of groceries and fresh produce before heading to the transport terminal to pick up freighted goods.
At 8am it’s time to head to the post office and pick up the mail and deliveries before hitting the outback roads to Oodnadatta and William Creek and the multiple remote stations that would otherwise be cut off from the outside world.
Mr Ross’s run takes him on rough routes like the Oodnadatta Track and Kempe Road.
His stops include the iconic Pink Roadhouse in Oodnadatta and Algebuckina Bridge, and the mail run takes him past waterholes and through (sometimes) dry creek beds.
Mr Ross often acts as a road patrol for the South Australian Department for Infrastructure to check the condition of the network of dirt roads that crisscross the bush.
The department relies on his intel to make decisions on whether to close or open particular routes after weather events like heavy rainfall.
Road conditions continue to be a challenge for Mr Ross and for those living and working in the outback, as is the impact of increased traffic associated with the growth in outback tourism.
Mr Ross says he often sees visitors not driving to road conditions and not slowing down when passing another vehicle.
He has stopped to help those who have got themselves in trouble, sometimes after they’ve become impatient following rain.
“There’s no use in being caught in these roads and being stuck, because A, it’s an expensive exercise, and B, it wrecks the road for other users. So just wait that extra day or two,” he said.
In one extreme case, Mr Ross rescued an overseas tourist who had attempted to ride his pushbike the 2,000km from Darwin to Coober Pedy.
The man was overwhelmed by the heat, and Mr Ross stopped to check he was OK, before giving him a lift back to Coober Pedy.
From pubs to post
Mr Ross is no stranger to being a jack of all trades.
He and his wife Mim Ward were the publicans at the remote William Creek Hotel long before they had a 24/7 emergency care clinic run by the Royal Flying Doctor Service (RFDS).
“You’re not only the publican, you’re also the paramedic if there are injuries on the Oodnadatta Track,” he recalled.
“I did the odd search and rescue by air with Wrightsair … you’re the mechanic, the tyre fixer-upper — you’re everything.”
After Mr Ross’s stint at William Creek between 2009 and 2012, he headed south to the wine country of Clare Valley.
But the rolling vineyards couldn’t keep him forever and the open skies and friendships formed with the station residents eventually called him back to Australia’s heart.
“I guess the red dirt got under my fingernails,” he said.
Under the open skies
It’s been nearly two years since Mr Ross took over the Outback Mail Run route from Peter Rowe, who held the position for more than two decades and he wouldn’t change a thing.
“Out here, it’s open skies, not a fence in sight, not a building in sight,” he said.
“You’re totally relaxed when you come out in this country.”
But that same freedom can also mean it can get quite isolating for those living on the stations.
“Some people may be here on the station on their own all day while the others are out working and they haven’t spoken to or seen anyone,” Mr Ross said.
When he’s not carrying tourists along for the ride, he can spend up to an hour at each station, sharing a cup of tea with the owner, chatting about the condition of cattle and the country, and the latest happenings.
“It just makes you feel good that you’re able to come out here, sit down and have a chat,” Mr Ross said.
“[You] feel that you’re doing something worthwhile, almost like a priest,” he joked.
‘Amazon’ Bruce
At Mr Ross’s old stomping ground, William Creek Hotel, British expat Louis Littman has left the comfort of city life to pull beers at the remote pub.
“I cannot describe to you how invaluable ‘Amazon’ Bruce himself is; we would be lost without him,” Mr Littman said.
“We are in a very isolated corner of the earth, we can’t just pop to the shop for things we need.
“Having the option to just go online, order something and know that it’s going to turn up, it’s irreplaceable, genuinely, it means a lot to us all.”