Lake Nash Station rebounds from floods as schoolies line up for outback experience

As sunrise breaks, Courtney Martin emerges from her home — an old ringer's cabin surrounded by red dirt and gum trees in the middle of central Australia.

Wearing a work shirt and a cowboy hat, she sneaks in a quick cuppa before jumping into a nearby ute, ready to muster thousands of cattle. 

"We have so much to get through," she says, as she straps a two-way radio to her vest.

The other station hands follow in a convoy of utes that kick up large plumes of red dust on the unforgiving dirt track along the Northern Territory-Queensland border.

It's just another day for the 40 or so young ringers deep in the heart of Australia's cattle country.

Welcome to 'the end of the world'

Lake Nash Cattle Station, owned by the Georgina Pastoral Company, is about as remote as you can imagine. The closest city, Mount Isa, is a three-hour drive away across the Queensland border, first on a dirt track, then on bitumen.

Established in the 1870s, the station stretches across 1.2 million hectares of vast red and brown arid landscape.

The only nearby general store is in the neighbouring Aboriginal community, Alpurrurulam, a short drive down the road.

Of the 40 or so ringers employed at the large-scale Wagyu operation, the majority are still teenagers or aged in their early twenties. 

Many have moved from the city after finishing school to experience their first taste of adulthood.

And with the end of this school year looming, there will no doubt be more city kids looking to challenge themselves with a lifestyle change in the outback.

It will be a transformative experience.

Courtney is not your typical ringer. Originally from New Zealand, she always wanted to experience outback Australia, but didn't fully grasp the scale of the land until she arrived two seasons ago.

"I remember driving out here for the first time, and it's just as flat as the eye can see," she says.

The 27-year-old is responsible for managing staff and daily chores during mustering season, under the supervision of station managers Erin and Natalie Gibson.

Courtney's the type of employee many dream of hiring — calm and diligent. She's also keenly aware of the pressure that comes with working with young colleagues while managing 65,000 cattle.

"Safety is a big thing out here, we're a long way from help," she says.

Despite the isolation, ringers say the sense of community at Lake Nash is strong. 

The station runs weekly events and theme nights, and there's a feeling of camaraderie when staff sit shoulder-to-shoulder at the dinner table.

Nineteen-year-old Georgia Urquhart arrived at Lake Nash Station straight after school, and quickly bonded with the other adventure-seeking school-leavers saddling up for a taste of the outback.

[

Manager Natalie Gibson says some school leavers who arrive to work at the station have been inspired to by television drama series in a "McLeod's Daughters-style" effect.

"Though I don't think series like Yellowstone have had quite the same effect, we definitely don't have a train station," she says.

Whatever the pull, it has ringers returning year-after-year for the annual mustering season.

"The opportunity out here is phenomenal," says Natalie, herself a former city girl, who relocated from Brisbane to Lake Nash a decade ago.

A 'wall of water coming for us'

Working on a remote station requires physical strength and endurance, but also tenacity when things get tough, as Natalie knows all too well.

She and other staff swung into action when a once-in-a-generation flood engulfed the station's homestead and surrounding landscape in early 2023.

Heavy rain caused the mighty Georgina River to swell and then flow through the arid land.

While official records are unclear, Natalie believes the previous highest recorded flood at Lake Nash was in the 1970s, when water lapped under the homestead floorboards.

"This time it was through the house," she points out.

Staff packed up their belongings and evacuated by helicopter to higher ground at a remote outstation. 

For several days, the mighty Lake Nash was only just visible in a sea of murky water.

About a week later, the flood subsided and the staff were able to return.

"We were really lucky about the minimal amount of damage," Natalie says.

But it was the next four months that proved the most challenging.

Cut off with no help for months

Floodwaters turned the only road connecting the station to the highway into a muddy mess, meaning food trucks couldn't gain access and staff couldn't leave by road. 

They were officially trapped.

The local Aboriginal community's stockpile of food, which supports its 400 or so residents, also started to dwindle.

"That was the hard part," manager of the Alpurrurulam general store, Christy Lorenz, says.

Christy says a sense of fear spread through the Indigenous community when it was clear no-one was coming to help, not even the Northern Territory government.

"The community was starting to worry, it had been a long time since we got a truck," she says.

Despite being cut off for an extended period, the Territory government did not declare the flooding an 'emergency', meaning additional resources could not be allocated to the region.

Left with no other option, Christy says the community store resorted to flying in supplies via private charter planes at its own expense.

Natalie says the station and community felt "forgotten".

After four months of isolation, staff at Lake Nash Station resorted to building a new road themselves, before flood waters eventually receded.

Finally food trucks could make their way through.

"To think the government couldn't help us … is incredibly frustrating," Natalie says.

A spokesperson for the Northern Territory police said road closures "do not ordinarily constitute an emergency situation".

"Every wet season, there are road closures at various places across the NT. We encourage community resilience.

"People and communities must be prepared for the wet season including having a sufficient supply of food."

The spokesperson added that food deliveries to a store are "a cost of doing business and is not usually paid by emergency services".

A transformed landscape

The region was cut off again in early 2024 after the Georgina River flooded once more.

The two unusually strong wet seasons have since transformed the dusty landscape into a vibrant kaleidoscope of varying shades of green. 

The river is flowing consistently for the first time in years. Cattle have fattened up. Staff even have a spring in their step.

"It's almost become normal to see it so green," Natalie says.

Some days, Natalie says the crew will even water-ski on the river in their down time — a rarity in the drought-stricken outback.

But Natalie acknowledges that with the bounce back comes the very real prospect of another big dry.

It's an unspoken anxiety that runs through the minds of most people in the region, given how dependent the industry is on a steady supply of water and feed.

For now though, staff are getting on with the job, making the most of what time they have left in the season.

"There's light at the end of the tunnel starting to come through. I think we're going to be OK," Georgia says.

With additional reporting by James Elton.