25 Aug 2016

Pondering what you could do in a gap year? Want to test yourself, and explore somewhere fresh and new, but without spending the bank account-smashing levels of cash overseas-tripping requires? There are options in your own backyard. I don’t mean out the back of your Mum and Dad’s—that probably doesn’t offer anything more exciting than playing goon of fortune—I mean the massive backyard that is Australia’s inland. Amongst the options are seasonal work like fruit picking or cotton chipping, or you could serve Bundy-guzzling, bearded folk at a bush pub. But as good a way as any to experience the Australian interior is to have a lash at one of its most iconic roles—the Jackaroo or Jillaroo.

Jackaroos and Jillaroos (or ‘station hands,’ as they’ll be referred to from here on, for simplicity) are trainees who work on sheep or cattle stations, or large farms. They generally work with livestock—like mustering cattle, or droving sheep, or tagging goats—but there can be a whole range of different things they do, from weed control to water systems management. Basically, Station Hands assist farmers in their day-to-day duties. You might imagine them as someone who travels everywhere by horse, and spends their days slogging at the ground with a blunt hoe. But your modern Station Hand is likely to be cruising around in an air-conditioned cabin listening to Kanye, or using wireless technology to simultaneously monitor a farm’s water storage levels and how their Twenty20 team is going.

If your average Station Hand looks a bit different to what you imagined—with their latte in one hand and iPad in the other—don’t be fooled into thinking that this work isn’t taxing. If you took it on, you might find yourself wrestling monster-sized Dorper Rams onto the boards of a shearing shed, or tearing your hands to shreds putting barbed wire on a fence. But there’d be cool shit to way more than balance out any of the not-so-fun stuff. It will depend on the nature of the station as to exactly what work you do, but rest assured it will be different to anything you’ve done before, and awesome.

You might get to help round up a scattered herd of cattle in a chopper. You might get to ride a horse, or shoot a gun, or fang around on a bush-bashing four-wheeler. You might get to learn about growing crops, and land conservation practices, and how to erect a reliable fence. There’s a surprising diversity of work and adventure to sink your teeth into.

But that’s one side of things—being a Station Hand generally involves living in the country for the duration, and you might be thinking that’s not your cup of billy tea. What are you going to do after knock-off each day? You like your malls, your cinemas, and your Maccas—how are you supposed to survive without anywhere to go but a country-miles-away country pub? How will you check Facebook—do they have internet access out in the sticks?

Well, the truth is…country life is different. For one thing, people tend to be more friendly—not everyone is a gap-toothed Cletus or rifle-carrying psycho. It’s a cliché that bumpkins are friendly, but it’s grounded in reality—why wouldn’t you be of a happier disposition if you didn’t have to spend your days crushed within peak hour traffic or shouldering your way through hordes of pedestrians? If you were to decide to give Station-Handing a go, you might become a happier person yourself, what with all the open spaces and fresh air and friendliness.

You’d also get to meet new people at different sorts of gatherings, like impromptu scrub parties, or B&S balls, or the laid-back country pubs that are choc-full of fresh-faced wholesome country youths (yeah, okay, and red-faced, dirt-covered old Bundy-guzzlers too). You’d get to learn all sorts of genuinely cool skills, like how to put up a ringlock fence or drive a Chaser Bin. And you’d get to befriend all sorts of animals that you might otherwise never be exposed to, from super-smart kelpie dogs to super-innocent poddy lambs to super-oinky fat piglets.  And yes, you are more likely than not to have access to mobile reception and internet—you’ll be moving to another part of Australia, not to an earlier point in history or a fifth world country.

There’s something deeply satisfying, something primal, about working on the land. You’ll feel like you’ve earned your money, and you’ll feel a connection with the place you’ve earned it in if you have it in you to try being a Station Hand. It offers you not just a job, but an experience, and one that will be as awesome as any other gap year option available. So what are you waiting for? In the words of Russell Coight—time to hit the road.