The outback bus trip giving remote residents access to food and healthcare
Andrew Shandley is in good spirits as he tears through muddy floodwater in a ten-tonne bus.
“I couldn’t be happier,” he shouts over the rumbling engine.
“There’s no job I’d rather do, no place I’d rather be!”
Andrew Shandley has been driving buses for almost 30 years. (ABC News: Erin Parke)
Each week the Gooniyandi man drives around 2,000 kilometres to deliver one of the roughest and most remote public transport routes in Australia.
The service connects 20 remote Aboriginal communities scattered around the central Kimberley, in northern Western Australia, offering residents a once-a-week day trip to the regional hub of Fitzroy Crossing.
Andrew Shandley brings the latest news from town to the remote communities during his once-a-week visits. (ABC News: Erin Parke)
Most live without a local store, and have to try to stockpile food when there’s no working car or licensed driver to take them on the long trip into town.
Every morning, Andrew Shandley sets off from his home in the small bush community of Joy Springs.
(ABC News: Erin Parke)
“It can be tough being so isolated, so we’re all real glad to have the bus now,” says remote resident Kingston Rangai.
“My little family and me, we wait every Tuesday for Andrew to arrive — we’re always glad to see his face.”
Dozens of communities are scattered around Fitzroy Valley in central Kimberley. (ABC News: Erin Parke)
Rough and ready road trip
It’s a hot, humid morning in February when the ABC hops aboard for a day-trip to the edge of the of Great Sandy Desert.
We’re headed to the tiny community of Ngalingkadji, where about 100 residents live with no local store or school.
The community of Ngalingkadji is home to around 100 people. (ABC News: Erin Parke)
“Normally, we’d pick them up and then go further south to Djugerari, but the road’s too bad right now,” Andrew explains.
“All this rain, it’s too dangerous.“
It’s one of many hazards Andrew faces as he completes the gruelling daily schedule of pick-ups and drop-offs.
Sometimes, rogue cattle roam the road. Backtracks are littered with jagged shards of rock that can shred a tyre in seconds.
The distinctive welcome sign at the the tiny Ngalingkadji community. (ABC News: Erin Parke)
Today, there are deep stretches of floodwater to navigate, and Andrew’s eyes narrow with concentration as mud sprays and splatters across the vehicle.
“I’ve been driving buses around for almost 30 years,” he confides.
“I know this country north, south, east and west.
“This is a beautiful country, but it’s not always easy.“
Andrew Shandley keeps watch for roaming cattle, which regularly run onto the road without warning. (ABC News: Erin Parke)
Boarding the bus
As we press south into the escalating heat, the landscape becomes sparse and dry.
We’re in Walmajarri country. Raised, flat-topped rock formations called mesa shimmer on the horizon, ominous outlines looming over the spinifex plains.
Distinctive rock formations are called mesa or buttes in WA’s south Kimberley region (ABC News: Erin Parke)
Just a few hundred people live in this part of Australia, clustered in three communities and accessible by a single rattly road that’s cut off each wet season.
As we swing into Ngalingkadji a handful of people is ready and waiting, including Kingston Rangie, his partner Kimaya Yamalulu and young daughter Sisealiah.
Sisealiah Rangie waits eagerly for the once-a-week bus to town to arrive. (ABC News: Erin Parke)
“We’re going into town for some grocery shopping, and pick up the mail, and for an appointment about housing,” Kimaya explains.
“The bus makes everyone happy.
Kingston Rangie (right) says many locals don’t have drivers licenses. (ABC NEWS: Erin Parke)
“There is a shop at one of the other communities, but it’s more expensive, so we’d rather go to town.”
The air-conditioned bus provides welcome respite from the searing heat of the wet season. (ABC News: Erin Parke)
Sisealiah Rangie catches the bus to another community to attend school.
(ABC News: Erin Parke)
Extreme cost of living
It’s a cruel irony that remote community families have among the lowest incomes and highest daily living costs in Australia.
There are hardly any jobs and barely a functioning economy this far south of the Great Northern Highway, because unlike some other remote areas there’s little tourism, mining or pastoralism.
The larger community of Yakanarra has an independent school tailored to Walmajarri culture and a small shop. (ABC News: Andrew Seabourne)
Most residents live off Centrelink payments not designed for the inflated costs of isolation.
Local stores, if they exist, can be eye-wateringly expensive due to freight and limited storage facilities, and fuel sells for double the average national price in some locations.
But locals say life is more peaceful and healthy than in town.
“It’s good here, we all know each other,” explains Kingston.
Sisealiah Rangie enjoys the novelty of a backseat ride with her parents to town. (ABC News: Erin Parke)
The politics of isolation
Over the years there have been the occasional flare-ups of political debate over whether it’s worth the extra cost and inconvenience to maintain the hundreds of small remote communities scattered across the northern half of the continent.
But the reality is they receive relatively little government funding — most is funnelled into regional towns — and defunding them would exacerbate the overcrowding and tensions in towns like Alice Springs and Broome.
Bus driver Andrew Shandley says people are keen to stay where they are, despite the daily challenges of isolation.
The weekly bus trip makes for a fun family outing for locals. (ABC News: Erin Parke)
“They love their community, that’s why they’re out here, and they’re better off here than in town.
“It’s just good they’ve got the bus now.
“Me and my family, we live in a little place called Joy Springs, and it’s so peaceful, you can see dingoes coming past, horses coming past. It’s what life is all about.“
During the wet season, the bus schedule changes due to flooding and road damage. (ABC News: Erin Parke)
Local solution to a local problem
Soon there are a dozen people loaded into the air-conditioned bus as it leaves Ngalingkadji and trundles back up the battered road to town.
Margaret Shaw lives with her family in the remote community of Ngalingkadji. (ABC News: Erin Parke)
The bus service started just a few months ago, in late 2024, and demand has been high.
Locals reckon a lot of people don’t have driving licenses, so the bus service has an added bonus of minimising illegal driving on the vast outback roads.
The bus is organised by the Fitzroy Crossing-based organisation Marra Worra Worra.
The Marra Worra Worra corporation has been operating in the central Kimberley for more than 40 years. (ABC News: Erin Parke)
The Aboriginal corporation is one of the largest in northern Western Australia, delivering government housing and employment contracts, but also generating income from commercial enterprises.
Media manager Obby Bedford says they’ve been tweaking the schedule to service as many locations as possible.
“The bus service isn’t just convenient, it’s really necessary,” she says.
“It’s not just about shopping, people can visit the hospital if they need, and it could be their only ride into town for the week.
“Obviously cars are expensive so a lot of people don’t have them, and fuel keeps getting more expensive too.”
Obby Bedford says few Australians realise how remote and isolated many Aboriginal communities are. (ABC News: Erin Parke)
She says it’s a good example of a locally-devised solution to a local problem.
“I think with Closing the Gap, governments across the continents have refused to listen to Indigenous voices, but as an ACCO (Aboriginal Community Controlled Organisation), we don’t need to check with government in order to do this, we’ve just done it.
“So this is Indigenous voices and local knowledge being utilised, and we’re lucky to have the resources to be able to do it.
“I think if governments did listen more to Indigenous voices we’d have a chance at Closing the Gap, but that needs to happen first.”
Margaret Shaw, a resident of the remote Aboriginal community of Ngalingkadji, uses the community bus to travel the 50 kilometres into Fitzroy Crossing once a week to go shopping and collect mail. (ABC News: Erin Parke)
The Bunuba woman remembers being driven around by bus driver Andrew Shandley as a child.
“He used to drive the school bus, so I think he just likes driving people around,” she laughs.
“He’s the perfect person for the job.”
Homeward journey
Andrew Shandley waits patiently in the shade outside the shopping centre as the Ngalingkadji families spill out across the town centre.
Remote residents queue to collect mail at the small shopping centre in Fitzroy Crossing. (ABC News: Erin Parke)
It’s 42 degrees, and he wipes his brow beneath his trademark battered bush hat.
Soon, he’ll be back on the road, humming country songs and nodding to the occasional caravanner or cattle truck that flashes past along the highway.
Andrew Shandley’s trademark hat, complete with black cockatoo feather. (ABC News: Erin Parke)
There’s something old-fashioned about the tightness of the Fitzroy Valley communities he visits.
There’s minimal phone reception and news is largely passed on via the chatty bus driver and his mud-splattered bus.
Andrew Shandley says he hopes to keep driving the Fitzroy Valley bus for many years to come. (ABC News: Erin Parke)
“It’s nice to see people and see how they’re doing,” he muses.
“And it’s nice to be helping. I’m sure we’re helping.“
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