‘Visit The Country. Enjoy A Rural Break’, said a Facebook Karaoke Ad

I’m pretty much a city guy.

As much as I like to believe part of me comes from the Bush—Outback Australia—I’m not truly a country person. I’ve lived most of my life close to a city, where electricity, running water, wifi, EFTPOS, and every modern convenience remain within arm’s reach.

My history of riding horses, milking cows and sleeping beneath the stars is mostly fiction. I’ve ridden a few horses, seen plenty of cows and camped often enough, but none of that makes me a bushman. It makes me a visitor who knows how to pack insect repellent.

Speaking of fiction, it took a short break this week when Margo and I headed to the Bush for an overnight stay in Dwellingup, a country town about an hour’s drive east of our coastal one.

Blame karaoke.

I saw an advertisement on Facebook for a one-night karaoke show at a country pizza place and decided it was reason enough to stop writing and head for the Sticks—another Australian term for the Bush.

Pizza, cocktails and singing in front of complete strangers?

Why not?

A new venue and an unfamiliar audience can add something special to a short holiday. Nobody knows you, so you can be anyone you like for the evening. In my case, that usually means becoming the bloke holding a microphone and behaving as though everyone came specifically to hear him.

Yes, I’m a karaoke and pizza tragic.

The trip wasn’t only about music, food and cocktails. Staying overnight somewhere unfamiliar also means waking in a brand-new world. The streets are different. The light falls differently. Even an ordinary shop looks interesting because it isn’t your ordinary shop.

Why rush home when we could hang around and discover the local sights and hospitality?

So we did.

Dwellingup is a bloody fantastic town. Its IGA and pub appear to be its social centres, with almost everything else fitting neatly around them. There’s no need for a complicated city plan. Find the groceries, locate the pub and work outward from there.

Nearby is the old railway precinct, where remnants of the historical station, railway line and trains have been restored by retired engineers. Margo admired the flowers while I inspected the old iron at the steam-engine depot.

We each found our preferred kind of beauty.

The surrounding forest also has trails for cyclists, followed by a bicycle service station where riders can wash down their bikes and perform repairs or adjustments. What a clever idea. Ride through the mud, clean the evidence and return looking as though the expedition was effortless.

Of course, I kept noticing the scenery and photographing it. That habit never really switches off. The camera encourages me to slow down and look properly—to search for the small details hiding inside an otherwise ordinary scene. That way of seeing is also part of the relationship I explore between photography, observation and storytelling.

We finished our visit by shopping, eating local produce and relaxing in the town’s rose garden.

Good one, Dwellingup.

We’ll be back.

Next time, we’ll bring the tent and pretend we belong in the Bush.

Enjoy reading my fiction below.

–Michael (Dark Fiction. Author of SEETHINGS (the first book), free for a limited time)