Category: Macca on Sundays

Bush mail must go through

A veteran mailman from outback South Australia rang in from the Oodnadatta Track, where he’s one of a dying breed delivering post across hundreds of kilometers of red dirt . He painted a vivid picture of last week’s adventure when flash floods turned dry creeks into torrents overnight. With the road cut and station families awaiting their mail, he improvised by enlisting a stockman’s old diesel Toyota and even a horse float to ferry sacks of mail through mud and water. He laughed describing how a half-dozen locals met him on the far bank, swapping stories as they helped unload letters and the odd care package. “The pub had a cold one waiting by the time I got through,” he chuckled, saying that in communities so remote, neighbours pull together just as they did in his father’s day. It was a tale of perseverance and bush camaraderie that had Macca beaming – a reminder that even in 2025, the outback still runs on trust, ingenuity and a handshake.

Wetlands teeming in Kakadu

From the Top End, a park ranger at Kakadu National Park called in, breathless with excitement at the sight before him. After one of the best wet seasons in years, the floodplains around Yellow Water were transformed into a wildlife paradise . He described the dawn chorus of thousands of magpie geese, egrets and jabirus rising from the misty marshes as the sun came up. “It’s like the land is alive and singing,” he said, recounting how crocodiles cruise between floating lotus pads and buffalo graze on the fresh green fringe. Campgrounds that had been quiet during the rains are now bustling with tourists and grey nomads. Macca could almost smell the damp mud and feel the steamy morning air as the ranger invited everyone to come see Kakadu’s temporary lakes before they dry up. The call captured the pulse of the Northern Territory’s wild heart, where nature puts on a grand show after the monsoon.

Still shearing at eighty

A delightful call came from Gundagai, NSW, where listeners met Bruce – an 80-year-old former shearer who’s proving you’re never too old for the shed. Bruce cheerfully reported he’d spent the week helping his grandson crutch and shear a small mob of merinos on the family farm. With a voice as weathered and warm as a worn saddle, he reminisced about the 1960s when he could shear 200 sheep a day with blade shears, and how “the wide combs today are a young man’s game.” He described the familiar rhythm of the work: the smell of lanolin, the scrape of shears, and morning tea under a gumtree with the team. Macca asked what keeps him going. Bruce reckoned it’s the camaraderie and a love of hard yakka, and admitted with a laugh that he “can’t quite hang up the handpiece just yet.” It was an inspiring yarn bridging generations – the kind of heartfelt, authentic Australian story that had listeners around the country smiling and tipping their hats to a legend of the wool sheds.

Nude swim at dawn

Down in Tasmania, a caller from Hobart gave a preview of a decidedly chilly tradition – the annual Winter Solstice Nude Swim in the River Derwent. She set the scene: in two days’ time, on the year’s longest night, hundreds of brave souls (herself included) will fling off their clothes before sunrise and charge into the icy 11°C water just as dawn breaks. “It’s absolutely freezing and absolutely fantastic!” she exclaimed. In past years, participants have emerged blue-lipped but grinning, wrapped in nothing but an Australian flag or a quick towel, with onlookers cheering from the shore. She explained that the swim, part of Tassie’s midwinter festival, is about community spirit, courage, and a little bit of crazy fun to ward off the winter blues . Macca was tickled by the idea, joking he might stick to hot cocoa by a fire, but he applauded the Tasmanians’ plucky enthusiasm. The story added a dash of quirky humor and colour to the morning, proving that even in the coldest depths of winter, Aussies know how to celebrate life (and laugh at themselves).

Hello from Antarctica

In a truly “Australia All Over” moment, Macca patched through to Casey Station, Antarctica, where expedition doctor Samantha phoned in during the depths of the Antarctic winter. With the satellite delay crackling, she described the surreal beauty of life at 65° south: the sun hadn’t been seen in over a month, the outside temperature was – thirty-something (not that it mattered once it’s below –20!), and the station’s 24 wintering crew were preparing for their Midwinter’s Day feast – an icy Christmas-like celebration of community. She painted a picture of stepping outside at noon under the aurora-lit sky, the Milky Way blazing overhead at what should be midday. Despite the cold and isolation, morale was high – they had home-brewed beer, a makeshift band tuning up, and even a “snowman building contest” planned for when a pale sun finally peeks over the horizon in a couple of weeks. Macca and Sam traded banter about who had the colder winter (no contest there). The call was equal parts awe-inspiring and heartwarming, connecting listeners to compatriots at the farthest edge of the earth and highlighting the camaraderie that thrives even in the extreme dark of an Antarctic winter.

Byron Bay tales from a bygone era

Mid-show, Macca treated listeners to a special recorded interview from his recent road trip through Byron Bay, NSW. He caught up with Norm “Staunchy” Wilson, an 85-year-old Byron local who’s lived through the town’s transformation from a quiet whaling port to the bustling surf and tourism hub it is today. Over a cup of tea on Norm’s verandah (with rainbow lorikeets squawking in the background), the old-timer shared vivid memories of Byron’s past. He talked about the 1950s whaling station days when the whole town would smell of boiling blubber, and how he as a young deckhand helped haul in the last catch before whaling was banned . He recounted the town’s lean years after the whaling and meatworks closed – “you could buy a house for a song then, nobody wanted to live by the beach!” – and the remarkable rebirth after the hippie surfers arrived in the ’70s, bringing craft markets, music and a new laid-back culture. Macca and Norm laughed about present-day Byron’s traffic jams and celebrity spotting, which Norm finds bemusing. But with a twinkle in his eye, Norm admitted he still walks up to the lighthouse most mornings to watch the sunrise and the migrating whales spouting offshore. “Some things don’t change, mate,” he said quietly. The interview was rich in nostalgia and local lore, a loving portrait of Byron Bay through the eyes of someone who’s seen it all – and it lent the program a reflective, storybook moment that listeners won’t soon forget.

Other calls included:

• On the road north: A cheery call from a roadside rest area outside Katherine, NT came from a retired couple towing their caravan – part of the annual winter exodus of “grey nomads” heading to warmer climes. They joked that the Stuart Highway was “bumper-to-bumper with caravans and campervans” and that every happy hour at outback campgrounds now feels like a school reunion. They had just left Daly Waters, where dozens of southerners gathered under the stars with guitars and campfires. “It’s like a travelling town moving up the map,” the husband chuckled. Their message was simple: if you’re looking for half of Melbourne or Adelaide in June, try the Top End! The call added a wonderful sense of seasonal migration and camaraderie on the open road.
• Striking black gold: From the cool hills of Truffle country near Braidwood, NSW, a truffle farmer shared the excitement of the first black truffle finds of the season. With the winter rains and chill setting in, her trained spaniel had just snuffled out several knobbly, fragrant truffles beneath the oak trees that week. She described the “Eureka!” moment – the dog freezing then pawing at the earth – and the rich, earthy aroma of truffle hitting the air. These culinary treasures will be making their way to fancy restaurant plates, but for her, the real joy is in the hunt and the knowledge that this once-unusual crop is now a thriving little industry for Aussie farms. Macca was fascinated (and jokingly angling for an invite to a truffle omelette breakfast). It was a quirky agricultural success story that left listeners almost smelling that unique truffle scent through the radio.
• A poem at daybreak: As the program neared its close, Macca read out a short bush poem sent in by a listener from Longreach, QLD. In just a dozen lines, the poem evoked a chilly outback dawn: frost on the spinifex, a lone drover’s campfire painting the pre-dawn dark with a flickering glow, and kookaburras laughing the sun up over the horizon. Its final lines – “From dusky night a day is born / gilded promise with the morn” – brought a hush to the airwaves. In classic Macca style, he let the moment breathe before wishing everyone a safe and happy week ahead. It was a gentle, fitting sign-off that captured the show’s soul: celebrating the poetry in everyday Australian life.

Listen to the podcast episode here.

Disclaimer: Brisbane Suburbs Online News has no affiliation with Ian McNamara or the “Australia All Over Show.” This weekly review is an attempt to share the wonderful stories that Ian broadcasts each week and add value to what is a smorgasbord of great insights. 

An Engine’s Echo for a Mate Remembered

One of the morning’s most stirring calls came from central NSW, where a convoy of 27 vintage tractors had set off the day before in memory of a much-loved local mechanic, Trevor, who passed away suddenly last year. His daughter rang in from the road — her voice emotional, but proud — describing how farmers, family friends, and mechanics had polished up their rusting Masseys, Fergies and Deeres for a slow journey between Gilgandra and Dubbo, raising funds for mental health charities. “Dad could fix anything with a motor, but he was hopeless at asking for help,” she said quietly. Each tractor bore a ribbon with his name stitched in, and as they crawled along the bitumen, strangers waved them on from paddocks and shopfronts. “The noise was deafening — all that diesel and memory.” She said her dad would have hated the fuss, but loved the turnout. Macca let the silence sit after she signed off, then softly said: “That’s Australia right there.”

In Winton, Poetry Stitched in Cloth

A cheerful call from Winton’s old CWA hall brought a welcome contrast — Betty, in her 80s, described how a group of local women had just completed a massive embroidered panel depicting the history of the region, from the Dreamtime serpent winding through the hills to shearers striking under a boiling sun. “It took us three years,” she said. “I had to unpick the barbed wire fence twice because the tension was wrong.” The panel, 9 metres long and stitched with every imaginable thread, is now the pride of the shire, and will be unveiled during the upcoming Outback Festival. Betty chuckled that her great-granddaughter had embroidered the QR code onto the corner so people could scan it and learn more — “we’re not that behind the times.” Macca was clearly charmed, and promised to make a detour to see the cloth if he’s ever up that way again.

An Emu Invasion in the South West

From near Lake Grace in WA, a wheat and sheep farmer rang to report a strange emu phenomenon — more than 100 of them, wandering through his recently sown crop in a slow, silent procession. “They’re not eating it, just walking through like they’re off to vote,” he said, mystified. He’s seen flocks before, but never so many, and never so determined. A local ecologist he spoke to reckons the birds are tracking ground vibration — following the memory of ancient songlines or the promise of water. “All I know is they ruined half a paddock and left not one feather behind,” he said. Macca wondered aloud whether the emus knew something we didn’t. “I wouldn’t put it past them,” the farmer laughed. “They’ve been outthinking us since 1932.”

Shed Music in Suburban Tasmania

A quieter but equally rich story came from Margate, just south of Hobart, where a recently retired school principal named Tom has transformed his backyard shed into a monthly chamber music venue. “We fit about 14 people, two cellists, and a kettle,” he said. The idea started with some friends during lockdown and now draws string players from around the region who squeeze between gardening tools and a model train set to play Mozart quartets. His latest guest was an 18-year-old violinist from Burnie who had never played to a live audience before. “She nearly cried,” he said. “So did we.” The concerts are free, the acoustics are better than expected, and his wife bakes scones for intermission. Macca, ever the musical magpie, seemed genuinely moved.

A Poem Rediscovered

Fax machines aren’t extinct, at least not on Australia All Over. A listener from Gundagai, digging through his late father’s war trunk, found a yellowed envelope with a poem scrawled on the back of an old invoice. The handwriting was faded but legible, the rhymes simple but steady: a bushman’s tribute to a fallen horse, written in 1944. Macca read it slowly — each line ending with the soft sound of dust and boots — and when he finished, there was a moment’s pause. “Whoever wrote that,” he said, “wasn’t trying to be fancy. Just true.” The caller said he’s sending a copy to the Australian War Memorial.

Other Highlights

• A Brisbane caller checking in from a wool shed in Dirranbandi where a “shearing school” is being trialled for high schoolers. “Kids with clippers learning to crutch and count — we’re keeping the skills alive.”
• A quick hello from a family camped by a frozen creek in Omeo, in Victoria’s high country. “Minus three this morning, billy froze solid — but the stars last night were magic.”
• A pilot from Cairns, tuning in during his pre-flight checks at 5 a.m., who thanked Macca for “keeping me company in the dark before I head into the blue.”
• A guest appearance by a volunteer meteorite hunter who helped confirm a recent find in South Australia’s Gawler Ranges — a 1.3 kg rock from space, now being studied by geologists in Adelaide. “It rang like iron when I tapped it with a hammer,” he said. 

Listen to the podcast episode here.

Disclaimer: Brisbane Suburbs Online News has no affiliation with Ian McNamara or the “Australia All Over Show.” This weekly review is an attempt to share the wonderful stories that Ian broadcasts each week and add value to what is a smorgasbord of great insights. 

• Roofless but not hopeless in the outback: At the far-flung meeting point of NSW, Queensland and SA, a tiny roadhouse proved community spirit is alive and well. Mick, the proprietor of the Cameron Corner Store, recounted how a freak storm earlier in the week tore the iron roof clean off his pub. Rather than see their only watering hole shuttered, neighbors from stations 100 km around converged with tools, tarps and elbow grease. He laughed as he described serving ice-cold beers “under the biggest sky in Australia” that evening, locals and travelers all raising a glass amid bits of flapping tin. By next day, they’d patched the roof together out of salvaged iron and sheer determination. “We’re a tiny dot on the map, but everyone pitched in,” Mick said proudly. It was a portrait of bush camaraderie in crisis – equal parts hardship and heart – and by the sound of clinking glasses in the background, the Corner Store is back in business come rain, hail or shine.

• Digging up dinosaurs in Queensland: Out near Winton, QLD, an amateur paleontologist named Julie rang in positively bubbling with excitement from a fossil dig. She and a volunteer crew had just uncovered what they believe is a sizable sauropod bone, peeking from red earth that hasn’t seen daylight in millions of years. “It’s like unearthing a time capsule,” she told Macca, describing the careful work of brushing away sandstone to reveal the fossil’s honey-brown surface. The find – possibly a new species – is the talk of the town; locals have been stopping by the makeshift dig site to take a peek at Winton’s latest prehistoric resident. Macca was enthralled, peppering Julie with questions about how big the creature might have been. She joked that the outback’s ancient giants make her cattle back home “look like toy dinosaurs.” The call offered a sense of real-life Jurassic Park in cattle country – science and history entwined under the big Queensland sky, with Julie’s grin practically audible as she invited Macca out west to see the discovery for himself.

• Sweet start to the cane season: Further north in the cane country of Queensland, Gary – a fourth-generation grower in the Burdekin – gave a lively report on the first crush of the sugarcane harvest. At first light a few days ago, Gary fired up his harvester to begin cutting the season’s inaugural paddock of tall, green cane. By mid-morning, the local mill’s stacks were puffing out sweet-scented steam. “You can smell the molasses in town, Macca – sweetest smell on earth if you ask me,” he chuckled. He painted a rich picture of the northern winter routine: cane trains trundling along narrow tracks, cane fires crackling at dusk (“just a quick burn to take the trash off before harvest”) and everyone from truck drivers to mill workers gearing up for months of long shifts. A decent wet season earlier in the year means a bumper crop, and Gary’s optimistic this could be their best harvest in over a decade. Macca could almost taste the sugar in the air as he congratulated Gary, reminiscing about past visits to cane country and the sight of “flames dancing along the rows at night.” It was a sensory slice of rural life that brought a dose of Queensland sunshine into the studio.

• Birds flock to a desert lake: From Marree, SA, charter pilot Trevor called in with an awe-inspiring update on Kati Thanda–Lake Eyre, which months after rare rains is now a temporary oasis in the desert. “It’s an inland sea out there, Macca – water as far as you can see,” he said, describing the view from his Cessna. He’s been flying sightseers over the lake’s glimmering expanse and was elated to report thousands of waterbirds have made it their home. Huge flocks of pelicans in V-formation are cruising over mirror-like waters, and down below, the shoreline is peppered with black swans, gulls and even duck species rarely seen in the interior. Trevor recounted one sunset landing where he was greeted by the distant din of birds – a wild, joyous noise in a place that was cracked saltpan not long ago. The normally quiet outback pub at Marree is bustling with tourists who’ve driven up for a glimpse of the phenomenon. “Last time the lake filled, it was 2019 – we don’t take this for granted,” he noted. Macca marveled at nature’s spectacle, reflecting on how a flood hundreds of kilometers away can bring life to the heart of the continent. Trevor’s report gave everyone listening a mental postcard of shimmering waters and whirring wings in the middle of Australia’s arid expanse – a reminder that even the driest regions can spring to life in the most dramatic way.

• Hello from the Great Wall: Perhaps the most far-flung call of the morning came from near the Great Wall of China, where a Brisbane couple, Tracy and Dave, decided to start their Sunday with Macca. In a scratchy but enthusiastic line from a village outside Beijing, they explained they’ve been overlanding through Asia in a trusty 4WD for the past four months – and never miss a show thanks to patchy hotel Wi-Fi and a bit of luck. “We’ve got Australia All Over playing under the shadow of the Great Wall,” Dave laughed, saying it was surreal to hear familiar accents while overlooking such an iconic scene. The pair had woken up before dawn to hike a quiet section of the wall, thermos of tea in hand, and couldn’t resist phoning in to share the moment. Tracy described the sun rising over the wall’s winding ridges and how, despite being thousands of kilometers from home, “we feel like we’ve got a bit of Australia with us each Sunday.” They’ve been keeping a journal of friendly faces and curious questions encountered on their journey (including a Chinese truck driver who was astonished to hear an Aussie radio show playing in the background). Macca was tickled and declared it a highlight to have the Great Wall join the program’s long list of outside broadcasts – if only by phone. Before signing off, the couple gave a hearty zàijiàn (goodbye) to Australia and promised to ring again from wherever the road takes them next. It was a delightfully all over moment that shrank the world for a few minutes, connecting listeners at home to two adventurers on the other side of the globe.

Other calls included:

• Pumpkins on a roll: A caller from Goomeri, QLD celebrated her town’s famed Pumpkin Festival held last weekend. She painted a hilarious scene of dozens of bright orange pumpkins careening down Policeman’s Hill in the annual pumpkin roll, with locals cheering like it was the Melbourne Cup. The whole town turned out in good humor – kids in pumpkin costumes, pumpkin scones in the CWA tent, and visitors from afar learning how to roll a squash with just the right flick of the wrist. It was country quirk at its finest, and even Macca could be heard grinning at the mental image of rogue pumpkins bouncing through the crowd.
• Pearls and whale sharks: Up in Broome, WA, a pearl diver shared an awe-struck account of an underwater visitor that stopped by during his morning dive. While checking oyster lines in the clear waters of Roebuck Bay, he suddenly found himself shadowed by a gentle giant – a whale shark gliding slowly past. “Big as a bus and utterly beautiful,” he said of the surprise encounter, noting it’s early in the season for the world’s largest fish to be in close to town. The diver swore even his oysters seemed impressed by their colossal company. He took it as a good omen for the pearling season and invited Macca (half-jokingly) up to Broome “to help shuck a few” if he fancied an adventure.
• Southern lights: From Bruny Island, TAS came news of the Aurora Australis putting on a midnight show earlier in the week. A stargazer phoned in to describe green and pink ribbons of light dancing on the southern horizon – so vivid that even long-time locals grabbed their coats to step outside and watch in wonder. “It was like the sky was waving the Aussie flag in neon,” the caller laughed, noting that the aurora’s magic made the chilly 2 a.m. air well worth braving. The celestial spectacle was brief but breathtaking, and Macca mused that one day he’d love to see the “Southern Lights” for himself, preferably with a warm thermos in hand.
• Bush verse at dawn: The program closed on a poetic note thanks to a listener’s bush poem faxed from the Snowy Mountains. In just a dozen plain-spoken lines, a retired stockman named Clarrie evoked the bite of a winter pre-dawn – frost on the paddocks, a billy boiling over a campfire, and the first rays of sun catching the gumtrees. The poem’s humble homage to cold mornings and warm hearts brought a reflective hush over the airwaves.

Listen to the podcast episode here.

Disclaimer: Brisbane Suburbs Online News has no affiliation with Ian McNamara or the “Australia All Over Show.” This weekly review is an attempt to share the wonderful stories that Ian broadcasts each week and add value to what is a smorgasbord of great insights. 

• One of the first calls came from flood-weary Kempsey on the NSW mid-north coast, where heavy rain last week sent the Macleay River over its levee. A local café owner described the town’s sodden CBD on Friday: waist-deep water in the streets, supermarket shutters down, and volunteers ferrying elderly residents to higher ground by tinny. By Saturday afternoon the power was finally back on – and she flung open her doors immediately. “No one else was open and people were hungry,” she laughed, recounting how she served coffee by gas burner and meat pies by candlelight to a crowd of mud-splattered locals. Despite the damage (muddy floors, waterlogged fridges), her voice brimmed with optimism. “We’re a tough little town – we’ll mop up and get on with it,” she insisted, thanking the SES and “mud army” of neighbors who turned up with mops and muffins. It was a portrait of community spirit in crisis, painted in equal parts hardship and heart.

• In a completely different scene, a call from the Sydney Writers’ Festival captured a cultural high. Ange – a first-time caller and an aspiring novelist – phoned in from a buzzing Wharf Theatre at Walsh Bay. She had just stepped off stage from a dawn poetry reading and was still riding the excitement. “It’s like a rock concert for book lovers,” she said of the festival, describing crowds huddled under umbrellas between venues (a drizzly Sydney morning didn’t dampen anyone’s enthusiasm). The theme this year was “In This Together,” and Ange noted how fitting it felt: bestselling authors, local poets, and readers shoulder-to-shoulder, swapping stories in the rain. She recounted a magical Festival moment the night before – an open-air yarning circle led by First Nations storytellers, flames crackling in a fire pit as ancient and new tales intertwined. Macca chuckled that she was “broadcasting from literary ground zero,” and Ange admitted she’d grown up listening to the show from country NSW. Her call offered a joyful glimpse into Australia’s literary heart, bridging city and bush through shared love of story.

• Heading west, a grain grower in Western Australia’s wheatbelt phoned in from a tractor cab, giving a stark paddock update. He was dry-sowing wheat into parched red soil on a farm near Mingenew, north of Perth. After a promising early April drizzle, not a drop had fallen in weeks. “We’re planting on a promise and a prayer,” he said wryly, running 12-metre bars through powdery topsoil. He’s putting in 80 kilograms of seed per hectare with minimal fertiliser – “no point in wasting the good stuff if the rain won’t come,” he noted. Some neighbours have held off planting altogether, but his attitude was pragmatic. By his calculation, if a decent front doesn’t sweep through by mid-June, the canola and wheat won’t sprout at all. “We’ll know by the winter solstice who bet right and who bet wrong,” he told Macca, his tone equal parts concern and dry humour. The image of WA’s broadacre farmers gambling on weather – silos empty, fields seeded in hope – spoke to the quiet tension of the season.

• From south-western Queensland, a much more dire tale of weather came through. A cattlewoman near Charleville shared that her family station hasn’t seen proper rain since January. Now early winter, the Mitchell grass plains have crisped to brown stubble and the waterholes are nearly dust. Each morning she’s out in a paddock of gidgee trees, chainsaw in hand – “cutting mulga branches for the hungry stock,” she explained – a backbreaking ritual to provide fodder when the grass is gone. She’s also trucking in cottonseed and hay bales from the coast at exorbitant cost. Calves are being weaned early and weaker cattle sold off because there’s simply nothing left to eat. “You either destock or watch them starve – that’s the choice,” she said matter-of-factly. Her voice carried fatigue but also resolve. After surviving the 2019 drought, she’s learned to plan for the worst; their station’s dam is now just a cracked bowl of clay, and they’ve begun drilling a new bore deeper into the Great Artesian Basin in hopes of tapping drinkable water. Macca listened in sympathetic silence as she described the red haze of dust that often closes in by dusk. Still, she ended on a determined note: “This isn’t our first dry rodeo. The season will turn – and when it does, we’ll still be here.” It was a sobering reminder of the drought’s human toll, straight from the heart of cattle country.

• From the Northern Territory came a brighter update – the annual migration northward is in full swing, not of animals but of grey nomads. The manager of the iconic Daly Waters Pub, off the Stuart Highway, called in to report that their caravan park is “overflowing with southerners in shorts and sunnies.” He’s seeing one of the biggest early-season turnouts in years: dozens of caravans and campervans rolling in each day now that the dry season’s begun up Top End. “It’s only May, but you’d think it was July up here,” he laughed, describing the cheerful chaos of happy hour the night before. The pub’s nightly “Beef ‘n’ Barra” barbecue was sold out by 5pm as travellers packed the beer garden to swap road stories. The caller reckoned many retirees hit the road extra early this year, keen to escape chilly southern weather or just itching for adventure after a few quieter years. He told a charming story of one couple from Geelong who showed up with an eight-month-old kelpie pup and a homemade map of Australia they’re filling in with marker as they go – Daly Waters was a big red star on that map. Macca could hear the buzz of evening country music in the background as the publican quipped, “Mate, the birds are back on the wire – you can tell the season’s turned when every site’s filled with a caravan and a clothesline.” The influx of nomads means a boost for outback roadhouses like his, and his pride in offering a warm welcome up north was evident.

• Meanwhile, an utterly remote form of connection was highlighted by a call from Alice Springs. An amateur radio operator named Steve described how he runs a nightly HF radio “sked” (schedule) for folks in the bush who live beyond phone reception. Every evening at 7 o’clock sharp, Steve’s voice crackles out across the continent on the shortwave band, and stations from lonely cattle properties and remote national park outposts call in to check on each other. He’s been volunteering as a net controller for years, linking far-flung Australians through the radio waves. “When you’re 500 kilometres from the nearest town, a friendly voice means the world,” he told Macca. He shared an example from last week: a young governess on a Kimberley station was feeling isolated until she hopped on the nightly sked and found camaraderie with strangers-turned-friends across the Outback. Steve chuckled that sometimes the biggest challenge is the wildlife – “I’ve had dingoes howl back at my signal and geckos crawl into the radio shack, but we always manage to make our roll call,” he said. His story was a nod to the old-school bush communications that still thrive in the digital age – a blend of nostalgia and practicality that clearly struck a chord with listeners.

• A particularly special phone connection came from far, far overseas – Antarctica, in fact. In what felt like a live cross to another planet, Macca spoke with an expeditioner calling from Casey Station, where it was still pre-dawn and bitterly cold. The caller, a weather technician from Brisbane on a year-long posting, painted a vivid picture of life at 66 degrees south of the equator. “The sun set in early May and won’t be back for weeks,” she said, describing how the 19 crew members are coping with continual darkness and temperatures down to –20°C. Her team had just celebrated “Midwinter Day” a bit early with a plunge into the icy ocean (each person dunked into a hole cut in the sea ice, attached to a safety line while colleagues stood by with hot toddies and towels). She laughed recounting the shrieks as “even the penguins looked startled by the crazy Aussies.” Despite the harsh conditions, morale at Casey was high – they’ve been holding regular trivia nights, brewing their own beer, and even tuning in to Macca’s show on Sundays (albeit via patchy internet) as a taste of home. She described stepping outside at noon under aurora-lit skies, the Milky Way swirling overhead in green and purple curtains – a sight few of us will ever witness. Before signing off, she wished her mum a happy birthday back in Australia. The line from Antarctica was crystal clear, and for a few minutes, the entire country was connected to a tiny outpost on the frozen ocean’s edge.

Other calls included:

• Two young blokes undertaking a quirky tractor trek for charity. They rang in from a roadside camp on the Nullarbor Plain, having departed Perth on vintage 1950s tractors en route to Sydney. Topping out at 20 km/h, they’re raising money for the Royal Flying Doctor Service and “raising eyebrows on the highway” as one joked. “We get a toot from every road train,” he said. At night they’re camping under the stars beside their rumbling old machines. By the time they reach Sydney (weeks behind schedule, no doubt), they hope to have proved that “slow and steady can do a world of good.”
• A listener’s email gem shed light on an Aussie icon: the word “Akubra,” as in the famous hat, comes from an Aboriginal word believed to mean “head covering.” Macca was tickled by this trivia – “I never knew that!” he exclaimed – noting how a piece of Indigenous language lives on atop many a sunburnt face. (Linguists debate the exact origin, the emailer admitted, but it’s a good yarn regardless.)
• An excited whale-watcher from Eden, NSW reported the first humpback whales of the season heading north. She spotted two big spouts off Twofold Bay at dawn on Saturday – an early start to the annual migration. “They’re on their way to Queensland, and we’re the welcoming committee down here,” she laughed. The sight of those tail flukes had the volunteers at Eden’s lookout ecstatic; the caller joked they nearly spilled their thermos tea as the whales breached. It was a sure sign that winter’s on the doorstep and the humpbacks are highway-bound for warmer waters.
• A bush poetry moment came when a retired stockman from Longreach faxed in a short poem that Macca read on air. In just a dozen plain-spoken lines, the poem reminisced about “the smell of wattle after rain” and “campfire embers at midnight,” bringing a reflective hush over the airwaves. It was a humble, heartfelt piece that celebrated resilience through hard times – a fitting epilogue to a morning of shared stories from all over.

Listen to the podcast episode here.

Disclaimer: Brisbane Suburbs Online News has no affiliation with Ian McNamara or the “Australia All Over Show.” This weekly review is an attempt to share the wonderful stories that Ian broadcasts each week and add value to what is a smorgasbord of great insights. 

• Skies over the Black Sea: One of the morning’s most remarkable calls literally came from the clouds – a Qantas A380 pilot dialing in at 35,000 feet “high above the Black Sea.” The Aussie captain, en route from London to Singapore, surprised Macca by phoning in during a cruise altitude lull. In the crackling call he painted an awe-inspiring picture: a pale dawn breaking over the Black Sea far below, the silhouette of Istanbul off to the west as he flew toward daybreak. “Not a bad office view, mate,” he chuckled. He explained that he tunes into ABC via satellite whenever he’s piloting long hauls – “Hearing Macca and the callers, it’s like I’ve got Australia in the cockpit with me.” The captain gave a shout-out to his family in Brisbane and even let his co-pilot say a quick g’day. Macca was tickled by the truly all over nature of the moment, joking that it might be the show’s highest-ever call. Before signing off to prepare for descent, the pilot cheerily promised, “I’ll drop you a line again from somewhere over the world, Macca – blue skies!”

• Silo art sparks town pride: From Pingaring, WA, came a heartwarming update on how art is bringing new life to a tiny wheatbelt town. A local farmer’s wife named Ellen rang in to tell Macca about their brand new silo mural completed just days ago. The massive grain silos now bear a vibrant painting of the region’s early settlers and wildflowers, 30 metres high and impossible to miss. “You can see old Bill Jones driving his horse team across a field of everlastings – four stories tall!” she laughed, describing the scene. Ever since the mural was finished, locals have been gathering at sunset to admire it, and travelers on the highway are detouring into Pingaring for a look. The caller said the project was a labor of love by an artist from Perth and dozens of volunteers. It’s already become the pride of the community. “For the first time in ages, our town’s on the map – literally, tour companies are adding us!” she said excitedly. Macca loved the story, noting how country ingenuity and art can lift spirits and put a speck on the map in a big way. He mused that he’ll have to swing by Pingaring on his next WA visit to see those giant painted pioneers gazing out over the wheat fields.

• Roo rush at the waterhole: A southwest Queensland station owner provided a classic outback yarn tinged with the reality of a drying land. Phil from near Cunnamulla rang in to report that, after a wet spring last year, conditions have sharply turned to drought – and the kangaroos know it. He woke up this week to find hundreds of thirsty roos crowding the last functional bore drain on his property. “It was like an outback version of the Boxing Day sales – roos shoulder-to-shoulder at the trough,” he said. At first light, he counted about 200 kangaroos jostling alongside his cattle for a sip of water. The unexpected visitors knocked down part of a boundary fence and chewed through a poly pipe in their frenzy. Phil’s tone was a mix of wry humor and concern; the sight of so many kangaroos told him the country beyond his fences has little feed or water left. He’s carting water every second day now to keep up with demand. “When the roos start acting like livestock, you know it’s dry, mate,” he noted. Macca and Phil shared a laugh about the roos’ rowdy behavior – “they didn’t even queue up, Macca!” – but both understood the seriousness behind it. The caller recalled the late-’70s drought when similar scenes played out and said he’s hoping for rain before things get truly dire. The story gave listeners a vivid image of life on the land: cracking black soil, mobs of desperate kangaroos, and a stoic grazier doing what it takes to get through another dry spell.

• “Liquid gold” olive harvest: A sweet and savory report came from Boort, Victoria, where an olive grower named Marco just wrapped up an abundant autumn harvest. He manages a small family grove of about 500 olive trees, originally planted by his Italian grandfather in the 1950s. Marco’s call brimmed with pride as he described pressing this season’s olives into oil. An unseasonably mild April with just enough rain led to a bumper crop of plump purple-black olives. The first cold-press extra virgin oil of the year flowed just last week, and Marco could hardly contain his excitement. “It pours out green-gold, and the aroma fills the shed – fresh cut grass, apples, a bit of pepper at the end,” he said, practically tasting it over the phone. He’s been bottling up the new oil to share at the local farmer’s market. Macca, a known foodie, peppered Marco with questions about the process, joking that he could almost smell the frantoio (olive press) from the studio. Marco explained how his family still picks many of the olives by hand to avoid bruising the fruit, and how they cure a portion for table olives using his Nonna’s old recipe. He chuckled when he admitted his kids roll their eyes at the “old-fashioned” ways, but he’s teaching them that some traditions are worth keeping. The call offered a delicious slice of regional life – heritage trees, hard work and a product that connects bush and table. Macca signed off by congratulating Marco and suggesting listeners seek out real local olive oil if they can: “It’s the good stuff – liquid gold straight from the grove,” as Marco proudly said.

• Cross-country on a tractor: In one of the more delightfully quirky segments of the morning, Macca caught up with two mates who are driving a 70-year-old tractor across Australia for charity. Glen and “Crusty” (as he introduced himself) phoned in from the side of the Nullarbor Plain, where they had paused their vintage 1950 Ferguson tractor to take Macca’s call. They’re chugging along at 20 km/h from Perth to Byron Bay to raise money for the Royal Flying Doctor Service. Glen described the scene: the little grey tractor puttering on the endless highway with a bright orange “Slow Vehicle” triangle on the back and a support ute following close behind. “We’ve got our swag, a toolbox, and plenty of WD-40 – that’s about it!” he laughed. They’ve been on the road for three weeks now, covering roughly 100 km a day when weather permits. Along the way, strangers at roadhouses have donated to the cause and offered meals (and mechanical advice). Crusty told Macca the roughest stretch so far was crossing the WA/SA border in blasting winds: “Mate, sitting at 5 miles an hour into a headwind feels like walking pace – but we’ll get there!” The pair take turns at the wheel to stave off “tractor backache” and say the camaraderie of Aussies they meet keeps them going. Macca was clearly charmed, dubbing them the “slowest great race in Australia.” He promised to give RFDS a plug and wished them good weather and steady running. As they fired up the old Ferguson to continue eastward, Glen signed off with a grin, “We’ll give her an extra toot for ya, Macca, each morning!” – a true-blue sign of two determined blokes and one very old tractor making a difference, one mile at a time.

Other calls included:

• Dogs on parade: A quick check-in from Sydney’s Million Paws Walk had listeners practically hearing the excited barks in the background. An event organizer breathlessly reported thousands of people and their pooches flooding into Centennial Park for the annual RSPCA fundraiser. “There’s a sea of wagging tails and tutus – even the dachshunds are dressed up!” she shouted over the cheerful chaos, noting that it was their biggest turnout in years thanks to sunny skies.
• Dozen chooks delight: “Don from Dubbo” made everyone smile with his light-hearted update from the chook yard. He called to proudly share that his 12 pet hens had finally all started laying. Don rattled off each chook’s name on air – from Henrietta to Princess Layer – and joked that he’s got more eggs than he knows what to do with now. “The girls are happy and the grandkids get free brekkie, so it’s a win-win,” he laughed, inviting Macca for scrambled eggs if he’s ever out Dubbo way.
• First snow of the season: Winter’s approach got a mention from a weather watcher in Victoria’s high country. Simon from Mount Hotham rang in to confirm it snowed overnight – a light dusting, but enough to turn the peaks white at dawn. “Brass monkeys weather, Macca – minus 2 and beautiful,” he reported. Ski operators are buzzing with the earliest snow in a decade, and Simon had already broken out the snow shovel and the billy for a warm cuppa.
• Century of wisdom: Among the morning’s memorable personalities was Stan from Mackay, who phoned in at age 100 to prove you’re never too old to be part of the show. Spry-voiced and cheeky, Stan shared the secret of his longevity: “Keep busy, have a laugh, and a teaspoon of golden syrup every morning.” He told a quick yarn about hearing Australia All Over on his shed radio since the program began in the 1980s, and thanked Macca for “keeping me company all these years.” It was a simple, touching moment – one generation saluting another – and it earned a heartfelt happy birthday chorus from the studio.

Listen to the podcast episode here.

Disclaimer: Brisbane Suburbs Online News has no affiliation with Ian McNamara or the “Australia All Over Show.” This weekly review is an attempt to share the wonderful stories that Ian broadcasts each week and add value to what is a smorgasbord of great insights. 

This week’s Australia All Over fell on Mother’s Day, and the program was as warm and down-to-earth as ever. Macca moved easily between hearty bush yarns and heartfelt tributes, creating a Sunday mosaic of life around the nation. From cattle musters under the outback sun to a surprise call from an Aussie truckie on a U.S. highway – and even an in-studio serenade by a beloved children’s entertainer – the show delivered a rich tapestry of Australian voices and stories, all threaded with the day’s family spirit.

• Big muster in Cloncurry: The morning kicked off with a call from a cattleman in Cloncurry, northwest Queensland, who was in the thick of a station muster. He reported that a generous wet season had left knee-high grass across his paddocks – welcome feed for his Brahmans after years of drought. With a team of stockmen on trail bikes and a chopper buzzing overhead, they were rounding up about 800 head of cattle for the first weaner sale of the year. He chuckled that his wife was spending her Mother’s Day morning driving the ute as the makeshift “smoko truck”, delivering tea and sandwiches to the muster crew. “She’s the best bush mum there is – keeping us fed and the herd moving,” he said proudly. The call painted a classic outback scene of family teamwork, dust, and determination under the Queensland sun.

• Honey flow down south: From central Victoria, a beekeeper near Bendigo rang in with sweet news. He’s managing 150 hives in the ironbark country and described an unexpected bumper autumn honey flow this year. An unseasonably warm April kept the native wildflowers blooming, so his bees packed away a late crop of dark, rich honey. “The red gum nectar came in thick – dark and caramel-like, with a hint of eucalyptus,” he said, clearly pleased. Now, with chilly nights creeping in, he’s prepping the hives for winter – insulating boxes and moving them out of frost hollows. The beekeeper noted the first light frost silvered his paddocks last week, which is the cue for him to curtail hive inspections. “Bees get cranky when the frost hits, like clockwork,” he laughed. His call blended practical bush know-how (like wrapping hives in itsy-bitsy woollen blankets, Macca joked) with a real pride in living off nature’s rhythms.

• Hello from the USA: In a memorable mid-show surprise, a call came all the way from the United States. An Aussie long-haul truck driver named Colin – originally from Toowoomba – phoned in from a truck stop on Route 66 in Oklahoma. It was early evening there, and Colin had pulled over his 18-wheeler “just to say g’day on Mother’s Day” back home. He painted a vivid picture of trucking American-style: endless interstate highways, big rigs with sleepers “the size of a Sydney studio apartment,” and roadside diners serving chicken-fried steak instead of meat pies. He joked about driving on the “wrong” side of the road at 110 km/h through the prairies (“you get used to it, but I still reach for the blinker with the wrong hand”). Colin also shared that he streams ABC online to stave off homesickness on his 10-hour drives. “Hearing Macca and the callers, it’s like I’ve got a bit of Australia in the cab with me,” he said. Before signing off, he gave a shout-out to his mum back in Queensland, promising he’d video-call her that night. The call captured the program’s all-over reach – even from half a world away, an Aussie voice found its way home to Macca on Sunday morning.

• In-studio with Don Spencer: Midway through the show, Macca welcomed a special guest into the studio – Don Spencer OAM, the famed singer-songwriter and children’s entertainer (and a familiar friend to generations of Play School kids). At 86, Don’s energy and love of music are undimmed. He chatted with Macca about his lifelong mission to bring music into kids’ lives, especially through the Australian Children’s Music Foundation he founded. Don reminisced about the early days – from growing up on a farm learning bush ballads, to strumming his guitar on Play School in the 1960s. With a gentle laugh, he recounted how a song about a kangaroo got him his first big break (“I figured if I sang about joeys and billabongs, kids would listen – and they did!”). Don even treated listeners to a few lines of his new song “Hold On To Your Dream,” a tender tune encouraging young Aussies to persevere in tough times. He picked up Macca’s studio guitar and, in a warm, slightly gravelly voice, sang a chorus that had toes tapping across the country. By the end of his segment, Don had shared both music and memories – including a touching tribute to his own mum, who bought him his very first guitar decades ago. The live studio chat added a lovely dash of nostalgia and inspiration to the morning’s parade of callers.

• Camel trouble in the Territory: From the Northern Territory came a call that had everyone listening in amazement (and a few chuckling). A station owner outside Alice Springs rang up to report an invasion of sorts – by camels. After good rains in the outback, a mob of feral camels had roamed onto his property, drawn by the only permanent water for miles. “I woke up to find about 20 camels crowding our bore drain like it was a desert oasis,” he said. The caller described the scene: gangly silhouettes emerging from dawn mist, jostling with his cattle at the trough. It wasn’t all harmless either – the hefty creatures had knocked down a fence or two and guzzled precious water meant for livestock. In true Territory fashion, he and a neighboring stockman hopped in the ute and shooed the camels off with a lot of horn-honking (and maybe a well-aimed skyward shotgun blast or two). “They run in slow motion, mate – it’s like a weird dream seeing camels gallop off into the scrub,” he laughed. The station owner noted that feral camels have been on the move with the season’s growth, sometimes causing havoc for pastoralists. His yarn was equal parts comedy and bush reality, and as Macca quipped, “only in Australia would a Sunday morning chat about camel traffic jams make perfect sense.”

• A Mother’s Day poem on air: Fittingly, the program’s most tender moment came toward the end, thanks to an 87-year-old bush poet from the NSW Riverina. Phyllis from Griffith phoned in to share a short poem she’d written as a tribute to mothers in the bush. In a steady, lilting voice, she recited verses that took listeners back in time: morning dew on the wheat, a mother’s hands lighting the wood stove, children’s laughter echoing in a one-room schoolhouse. Her poem honored the quiet, relentless work of country mums – “the tea-and-toast queens of the outback, holding the family together.” One line that lingered in the air was, “She fed the poddy lamb at dawn, then fed her family at dusk – a day’s work never done, powered by a mother’s love.” As she finished, Phyllis wished all the mums listening a happy Mother’s Day, adding with a chuckle, “Don’t forget to give Mum a call, okay?” The studio fell silent for a moment – even Macca was clearly moved – before he thanked her for a beautiful contribution.

Other calls included:

• A fun run in full swing: A quick check-in from Melbourne revealed thousands of pink-clad participants flooding the parks for the annual Mother’s Day Classic fun run. The event organizer breathlessly reported a record turnout at sunrise – runners and walkers honoring loved ones and raising funds for breast cancer research. “There’s a sea of pink tutus and big smiles here, Macca!” she shouted over the cheerful hubbub.
• First frost down south: A weather watcher in Liawenee, Tasmania (one of the coldest spots in the country) called to confirm that winter is knocking. He measured a pre-dawn low of -1°C, leaving a glitter of frost over the paddocks. “Brass monkeys, mate – the dog’s water bowl was iced over,” he laughed, noting that the wood heater was cranked up and keeping the shack cosy for his wife on Mother’s Day.
•  Tuna tales from SA: A fisherman from Port Lincoln, SA gave a brief update on the tuna season offshore. It’s been a ripper season for Southern Bluefin – he himself landed a 75-kg tuna last week. He joked that since he couldn’t be with his mum in Adelaide that day, he sent her a photo of the massive fish and promised her some prime fillets. “That’s one way to do Mother’s Day brekkie – tuna steaks on the barbie!” he quipped, signing off with a laugh.

Listen to the podcast episode here.

Disclaimer: Brisbane Suburbs Online News has no affiliation with Ian McNamara or the “Australia All Over Show.” This weekly review is an attempt to share the wonderful stories that Ian broadcasts each week and add value to what is a smorgasbord of great insights. 

This week’s Australia All Over brought in the kind of grounded, deeply regional stories that form the show’s backbone. From dry paddocks and long fence lines to an old bread truck turned tool library, the episode had a practical tone—interrupted only briefly by a poem, a piano, and a passionate runner asking Australians to show up.

• A notable call came from Julian, a 57-year-old IT professional from Sydney, who spoke about his routine of running a half marathon every month as a personal challenge. He said he wasn’t doing it competitively—“just me and the stopwatch”—but used the runs to keep fit and stay grounded. More importantly, he used the segment to issue a public call for more Australians to volunteer. “We’ve got millions of people with time and skills who aren’t doing anything with them,” he said. He encouraged people in their 40s, 50s and 60s to look at community groups that need help—particularly aged care, youth mentoring, SES, and local events. “You don’t have to change the world—just be someone people can count on,” he said plainly. It was one of the more direct and purposeful calls of the morning—delivered without fanfare but hard to forget.

• Elsewhere, a grazier from Walgett, NSW described walking the edge of his last full dam and finding it almost dry, weeks before winter. He gave a clinical description: cracked banks, goat tracks leading in, and the sound of frogs gone silent. His bore water was brackish, good enough for sheep but too harsh for young calves. He was carting 1,000 litres at a time, every second day, to keep up. After three years of flood and one of dry, he said this was the kind of season that quietly breaks your back if you’re not watching.

• From Marree, SA, a fencing contractor detailed his work patching sections of the Dog Fence, especially in spots where floodwaters had twisted mesh or loosened tie wires. He mentioned the surprising uptick in wild dog sightings this autumn and described the scent trails that lure them through gaps—mostly roo carcasses and feral pig offal. He’s using heavier pickets and double tying the joins. “You can’t out-build nature,” he said, “but you can slow it down.”

• A Horsham grain grower checking his seed drill phoned in with an update on wheat sowing—going in dry, 80 kg/ha, with trifluralin on board. His gear had just been re-rigged after a bearing collapse last year. He said three of his neighbours were still hesitating, waiting for a break in the weather. “We’ll know in six weeks who bet wrong,” he added.

• A banana grower near Carnarvon, WA, reported improved results using shade cloth and bunch covers to control ripening and wind damage. His crop, sold through a local delivery run, is packed in re-used cartons and mostly bought by small shops. “No cold chain, no shrinkage,” he said.

• One inventive segment came from Coffs Harbour, where a retired mechanic has turned a decommissioned bread van into a mobile tool library. The van houses drills, clamps, saws, and chargers, all lent out to men’s sheds and small DIY groups. “People need tools more than advice,” he said. The whole operation runs off two marine batteries and a solar panel.

From Winton, QLD, a schoolteacher called in about her students’ homemade weather stations. Built from PVC pipe and Arduino boards, the sensors were recording data every 12 hours and being compared to Bureau forecasts. “Kids trust real numbers. They’ll believe a thermometer faster than a whiteboard,” she said.

• Other calls included:
  • A Mount Gambier dairy farmer using pasture mapping apps to schedule rotations based on real-time dry matter readings.
  • A Castlemaine woman who sorts her firewood stacks by species and purpose, with chalk labels for ironbark (cold nights), redgum (fast start), and box (general use).
  • A Goolwa rail historian cataloguing dozens of NSWGR depot library books, with thumb-worn covers and pencilled-out borrow slips.
  • A Bungendore researcher recording oral histories of shearer’s cooks, including one woman who worked 46 sheds before age 40 and never lost a pot roast to dust.
  • The show closed with a final stanza from a 93-year-old bush poet in Longreach, recalling frost-bitten boots, a drover’s grin, and the clink of enamel mugs before dawn.

Listen to the podcast episode here.

Disclaimer: Brisbane Suburbs Online News has no affiliation with Ian McNamara or the “Australia All Over Show.” This weekly review is an attempt to share the wonderful stories that Ian broadcasts each week and add value to what is a smorgasbord of great insights. 

• The morning began with a call from north of Bourke, where Clem, a fencing contractor, was on day three of replacing six kilometres of boundary fence torn apart by floodwaters in February. He described in detail how the old star pickets had folded under debris—mostly timber and grass washed in from upstream—and how he’d begun spacing out new galvanised pickets and triple-running plain wire, using strainers reinforced with ironbark stays. He said he and his son were working from sun-up to sundown, trying to finish before cold mornings set in. When asked about ferals, Clem said wild pigs had torn through parts of the old fence, “like they owned the place,” but newer wiring and solar gates were holding them out for now. His matter-of-fact tone underscored just how routine big repairs have become across the floodplain.

• A call from Narrandera, NSW came from a citrus grower beginning the Valencia harvest after a warm, dry end to summer. She reported a better-than-expected yield, but noted that smaller fruit size and high freight costs were cutting into profits. She explained how they use handheld refractometers to check sugar levels and pick by hand to avoid bruising. She also mentioned the return of picker shortages, saying her family’s relying heavily on grey nomads and local teenagers. “We’re not fussy—we just need hands and hats,” she said. This brief but concrete update painted a clear picture of small-scale fruit farming in a challenging year.

• In a more unusual segment, a listener from Mount Barker, SA, described how he’d recently moved an upright piano from his grandmother’s house into a converted shearing shed on his property. He gave a precise account of how he and his brother constructed a timber sled using fence posts and a steel winch, then slid the piano down a ramp and loaded it onto a tandem trailer. The whole project took two afternoons and three fridge dollies. Now installed in the shed, the piano will be used for monthly folk nights with neighbours. “It’s a bit out of tune,” he said, “but no one here minds.”

• A farmer outside Deniliquin phoned in to report on a trial of mixed cover cropping in fallow paddocks. He had recently sown a mix of vetch, oats, tillage radish, and crimson clover, hoping to improve organic matter and suppress ryegrass. He explained how they’d rolled the seed mix in with a cultipacker behind a light disc and said early results were promising: good germination and less weed pressure than last year’s fallow. He added that his agronomist is planning to graze sheep on the stand in late winter before terminating it ahead of spring planting. This kind of rotational, multispecies grazing update—practical, dry and useful—was the type of call bush farmers tune in for.

• From Bunbury, WA, a retired brickie gave a quick run-through of how he uses leftover scaffolding planks and concrete bricks to build raised garden beds for mates on pensioner blocks. “Four bricks, one plank, repeat,” he said, adding that he’s built twelve beds across four homes in his neighbourhood. The caller said he sources soil from the local tip’s green waste recycling depot and gets seedlings cheap from the Lions Club markets. His motto: “No one should be too broke to grow.”

• One of the more entertaining calls came from a horse transport driver somewhere near Roma, QLD, who phoned in during a stopover to stretch his legs. He was on a four-day run carting six show horses from Tamworth to Mount Isa for a rodeo clinic. He explained how each horse was given its own feed bay, padded sides, and 3-hour rest intervals. “It’s not just a float—it’s a stable on wheels,” he said. He described how the horses react to traffic noise differently—some sleep standing, others sway with every corner. The transport rig runs a light spray system to keep dust down and a side fan system powered by an inverter. It was a rare insight into the logistics of long-distance animal transport done properly.

• A woman in Castlemaine, Victoria rang in to describe her firewood rotation system, which uses a combination of ironbark, box and redgum across three drying racks. She detailed how she stacks by species and burn time—ironbark for the coldest nights, box for regular use, and redgum for kindling or fast-start fires. Each load is dated with chalk. She mentioned that she processes most of her own wood with a hired log splitter, after a friendly tree lopper drops off clean cuts. “I’ve got firewood dated out to 2027,” she laughed.

@highcountrysnakecatcher Firewood, redgum for the win! #firewood #woodheat #eucalyptuscamaldulensis #redgum #stihl660 #stihl #warmth #coldweather #winter #highcountry #victoria #australia ♬ Something in the Orange (Z&E's Version) – Zach Bryan

• From Bridport, Tasmania, a call came in from a volunteer involved in restoring the town’s old surf club hall, recently repurposed as a community shed. She described how volunteers were using salvaged weatherboards from a nearby demolition site and had installed a new corrugated roof with donated insulation from a local builder. The building, which once hosted lifesaving classes, is now used weekly for men’s shed meetings, knife-making demonstrations, and ukulele practice. “We’ve kept the sea breeze but added power points,” she said.

• Later in the program, a call from Cunnamulla came from a bloke who’d just completed 20,000 km in a 1981 Toyota LandCruiser, circumnavigating Australia. He gave a short field report on tyre pressure, road conditions, and fuel pricing from Ceduna to Kununurra. He also mentioned his custom water tank setup, which held 70 litres under the tray and was refilled mostly via campgrounds and filtered creeks. “I did the whole thing solo—no trailer, no fridge. Just me, a swag, and the weather band on the radio,” he said. Macca asked where he slept most. “Gravel pits, mostly. And one tennis court.”

• The episode ended with a brief but rich update from a historian in Gundagai, who’s been compiling local letters from the 1891 shearers’ strike. He read from one account by a station cook describing a week of feeding 60 men on damper, mutton and cold black tea. The researcher said he’s working on a short publication that includes never-before-published union minutes and anecdotes from station hands who walked off the job. “It’s not textbook history—it’s muddy-boot stuff,” he said.

Listen to the podcast episode here.

Disclaimer: Brisbane Suburbs Online News has no affiliation with Ian McNamara or the “Australia All Over Show.” This weekly review is an attempt to share the wonderful stories that Ian broadcasts each week and add value to what is a smorgasbord of great insights. 

• One of the first calls came from Lightning Ridge, the opal-mining town in north-west New South Wales where the annual Easter festival was in full swing. A local festival volunteer described the scene: the main street was buzzing with a “goat race” unlike any other. After concerns from animal welfare groups, the town’s famous goat races had evolved into a comedy event with people—yes, people—dressed as goats pulling small carts. “It’s goat racing with a twist, and it’s a sight to behold,” she laughed. The caller said visitors absolutely love it and the town doesn’t mind poking a bit of fun at itself. Another highlight she mentioned was the Big Opal Dig – twelve mounds of opal-bearing dirt dumped in the main street, with thousands of dollars worth of opals buried inside. “Ten lucky folks get to dig for the prize opals,” she explained, saying it’s both a tourist draw and a clever nod to Lightning Ridge’s mining heritage. With live music, markets and a parade, the Lightning Ridge Easter Festival (18–20 April 2025) was attracting big crowds . The caller’s pride in her remote community was evident as she spoke about the boost in visitors. “For a town of 2,000 to host a few thousand extra people is huge – we’re flat out but loving it.” It was a classic bush event story of ingenuity and fun, setting a festive tone early in the show.

• From the Coral Sea coast, another caller phoned in amid celebrations at Gladstone, Queensland, where the last yachts had just arrived in the Brisbane to Gladstone Yacht Race. This annual Good Friday race is a storied Easter tradition in Queensland, and the caller – a volunteer with the finishing committee – painted the scene vividly. Dawn had broken as the leading boats slipped into the harbour, greeted by cheers from locals lining the shores. She reported that line honours went to the 52-foot Maritimo 52 yacht, which led the fleet into Gladstone in the early hours of Easter morning. Many smaller yachts were still arriving throughout Sunday. The caller described how families stake out spots along Gladstone’s waterfront to welcome the sailors: “Half the town comes down to the harbour with picnic chairs. When those boats sail in, tired and sunburnt, you can see the relief and pride on every skipper’s face – and we all clap them in.” Macca asked about the conditions at sea, and she noted it had been a moderate downwind run this year with a few squalls on Friday night that tested the crews. Despite the challenges, all 30+ yachts that started were expected to finish safely. The segment captured the camaraderie and volunteer spirit around a major regional event: the pride of a coastal city hosting a 77-year-old sailing race, and an insider’s look at how Easter in Gladstone revolves around the marina.

• Back inland, the show turned to the practical realities of country life after recent wild weather. Bill from near Coonamble, NSW – a fourth-generation wheat farmer – rang in while calibrating his seeder for the upcoming planting. He told Macca this Easter brought something of a rare blessing on his wheat paddocks: soil moisture. After several bone-dry autumns, heavy rains in late March had left his black soil country “moist like a chocolate cake” and ready for sowing. “I’ll tell you what, this year – for once – I’m not planting in dust,” he said with a chuckle, the relief palpable in his voice. Bill described how in his part of north-west NSW, many farmers were busy seeding winter crops like wheat and barley earlier than usual to make the most of the moisture. He also noted the Darling River was flowing again and local dams were full, which bodes well for livestock. Macca asked if the recent floods had caused him any losses. Bill admitted some lower fields had waterlogging, but the long-term gains outweighed the short-term damage. “After years of drought, a bit of flooding is a problem we’ll take any day,” he quipped. The call gave a down-to-earth insight into agriculture: the optimism that comes with a good soaking of rain, and the timeless Easter ritual for broadacre farmers – tuning the tractor and praying for a bumper crop.

• In a more intimate conversation, Charlie, a saddler from Tenterfield on the NSW-Queensland border, shared the love of a nearly lost craft. He has been hand-making stock saddles and leather tack for over 50 years, working in a tin shed workshop behind the old Tenterfield saddlery. Charlie explained to Macca how he still uses many tools passed down from his grandfather – edge bevellers, awls, and a 100-year-old stitching pony. He described the process of crafting a saddle tree, covering it in wet rawhide, and patiently hand-stitching the skirt and fenders. It’s painstaking work that can take months. His latest project was a custom saddle for a local campdraft champion, complete with carved floral tooling and the rider’s initials branded into the leather. “You measure twice, cut once, and pray the hide holds,” he joked, saying he’s learned to be patient with both cattle and leather. Macca seemed fascinated and asked how demand is these days. Charlie said he mostly does repairs and bespoke pieces now – “I’m one of the last of the bush saddlers around here” – but noted a resurgence of interest from younger riders who appreciate quality. He also mentioned training an apprentice one day a week, passing on the old techniques. This call was a gentle dive into bush craftsmanship and heritage, and listeners could almost smell the saddle soap and leather through the radio. It highlighted the value of slow, skilled work in a fast-paced world.

• An especially heartwarming call came from Currawinya National Park in Queensland, near the NSW border, where a small team is working to bring the bilby back from the brink. Erin, a wildlife volunteer with the Save the Bilby project, phoned in at sunrise from the boundary of a vast fenced sanctuary. In the soft morning light, she described seeing two bilbies scamper back to their burrows after a night of foraging. “It’s magical! Those big ears and that hop, like little Easter bunnies of our own,” she said. The bilby, as Macca noted, has become an Australian symbol of Easter, and Erin’s update was fitting for the day. She talked about the 25-square-kilometre predator-proof fence the group maintains at Currawinya, which has created a safe haven free of feral cats and foxes. Within this enclosure, bilbies are breeding successfully. She reported several new joeys spotted this season. Erin recounted how she spent her Saturday night on “rabbit patrol,” not chasing rabbits but checking the fence for any holes or breaches after recent rain. The team’s dedication paid off: no intrusions, and the bilbies inside continue to thrive. Macca asked how people can see the bilbies or help out. Erin explained that while the Currawinya site isn’t generally open to tourists, the nearby town of Charleville has a bilby experience centre for visitors, and donations to the project help expand their work. The call ended on a hopeful note as she wished everyone a Happy Easter and reminded Australians to think of the bilby not just the bunny. It was a touching blend of conservation news and holiday cheer, clearly striking a chord with listeners who value these small marsupials.

• Not all Easter morning stories were about planned events. Some were happy accidents of travel. A pair of grey nomads, Doug and Val, called in from a dusty roadside along the Oodnadatta Track in outback South Australia. They had paused at an old telegraph station ruin near William Creek and, to their surprise, found themselves amid an impromptu bush gathering. Val explained that several caravans and 4WDs had converged at this spot the night before, entirely by coincidence. By dusk, there were about 15 travelers camped in a loose circle on the gibber plains. “Someone started a campfire in the middle, and before you knew it we had a little party,” she laughed. Different groups contributed something: one couple played guitar and fiddle, another family roasted damper and shared billy tea, and a group of backpackers produced a box of marshmallow Easter eggs to pass around. Doug chimed in to describe the sky above: “No light for a hundred miles – the stars were like diamonds. We even caught a few shooting stars.” (It turns out the Lyrids meteor shower was just beginning). In the morning, the ad-hoc friends parted ways, but not before swapping phone numbers and promises to send photos. Macca was enchanted by the story, noting how it echoed the old bush ethos of camaraderie among strangers. The callers said this unplanned Easter bush camp became one of their most cherished memories of their trip. Their tale captured the serendipity of outback travel – how the vast emptiness of the interior can still bring people together in the most unexpected and joyful ways.

• As the program neared its end, Macca squeezed in a handful of quick calls from all over Australia. A truck driver rang from Eucla, on the Nullarbor Plain, reporting a veritable convoy of caravans headed west and east: “You’ve never seen so many grey nomads – it’s like a pilgrimage across the Nullarbor this year,” he said, noting every roadhouse was overflowing with Easter travelers. Another listener from Launceston, Tasmania joked about pulling out her winter clothes as an early cold snap sent the mercury near freezing overnight, reminding everyone that summer was truly over down south. And in a delightful historical tidbit, a retired army mechanic in Victoria called to share that he had just finished restoring a World War II Willys Jeep in time for Anzac Day. He even took it for a spin on Easter morning, proudly noting, “80 years old and she purrs like a kitten.” Each of these mini-stories – from the open road to a chilly Tasmanian dawn to a piece of wartime history brought back to life – added extra threads to the rich tapestry of the show. They underscored what Australia All Over is all about: every caller, whether they have 30 seconds or three minutes, contributes something unique and genuine. 

Listen to the podcast episode here.

Disclaimer: Brisbane Suburbs Online News has no affiliation with Ian McNamara or the “Australia All Over Show.” This weekly review is an attempt to share the wonderful stories that Ian broadcasts each week and add value to what is a smorgasbord of great insights. 

This week’s Australia All Over covered the country in a wide sweep—from the watermelon paddocks of Queensland to the backyards of Port Macquarie, and even into the remote mountain villages of Papua New Guinea. Macca kept the pace easy but steady, making time for stories that gave depth, texture and humour to what was, in the end, a classic Sunday morning episode.

• One of the more vivid calls came from Chinchilla, where preparations are underway for the Melon Festival, held every second year. A local organiser explained the workings of melon skiing, a signature event in which participants slip their feet into hollowed-out watermelons and slide across a plastic tarp covered in fruit pulp. “It’s not exactly a clean sport,” she admitted, “but everyone ends up laughing.” The event has grown from a marketing idea for local melon growers into a full-scale community celebration, drawing more than 20,000 visitors. There’s pip-spitting, a melon-chopping speed contest, melon ironman races, and even a tug-of-war with teams pulling through sticky pulp. The caller said there’s a practical side too—off-spec melons that would otherwise go to waste are used for events, and the leftover slurry is sent off to local pig farms. It was a story of rural inventiveness wrapped up in a good dose of silliness.

• From Port Macquarie, a caller shared the quiet progress of a long-term backyard project: a hand-built wooden sloop, constructed using traditional tools and native timbers. The hull is fashioned from spotted gum, bent into shape using steam, and fixed with copper rivets he sourced from an old boatyard in Newcastle. He described the sound of his drawknife on the timber, and how he tests each piece for grain and pitch before fitting it to the frame. The boat will carry a single mast, rigged for the calm tides of the Clarence River, where he plans to launch it. The work is slow—“you can’t rush timber,” he said—but he finds it satisfying. Macca asked him how long he’d been at it. “Four years,” came the reply, “But I don’t measure it in time anymore. I measure it in fittings I’ve finished.” The conversation was a quiet study in patience, tradition and solitary focus.

An interesting video about the Indonesian wooden boat building industry:

• A traveller called in from Central Australia, where he had been camping beside a temporary desert waterhole created by recent rain. At sunrise, he found himself surrounded by what he estimated to be tens of thousands of budgerigars—a vivid, swirling flock that descended in coordinated waves to drink and bathe. He described the sound of the wings—“a high hum, like silk tearing”—and said the waterhole had drawn in kangaroos, emus and even a few wedge-tailed eagles. He noted that budgies are common enough in the desert, but their mass flocks only appear when conditions are just right, which in this case followed a large outback storm. “The ground was red last week,” he said. “Now it’s green and full of noise.” It was the kind of call that reminded listeners of how quickly the Australian landscape can transform itself.

Here’s a video along similar lines:

• Another notable segment came from a station manager in the Barkly Tableland, who called in during a cattle muster already underway by dawn. Riders were out on bikes, assisted by dogs and a chopper, rounding up cattle across wide scrubland. He described the landscape as “yellow-green” after scattered rains, and said the cattle had spread far over the property’s outer paddocks. “It takes a day just to find them,” he said. The caller talked about the balance between helicopters and motorbikes—how the chopper does the spotting and tight turns, while the bikes and dogs handle the push into the yards. He noted this season has brought enough growth to avoid an early sell-off, but he’s still cautious. “One good rain’s not a wet season,” he added. Still, there was a sense of relief in his voice, and he said the birds had returned: finches, galahs and kites circling above the moving cattle.

A video featuring the Barkly Tableland:

• From Grafton, a wildlife carer gave an update on a young eastern grey joey that had been rescued weeks earlier. Found in the pouch of its mother after a car strike, the joey was hand-fed and kept in a hanging pouch in a quiet room. The carer described the process of gradually reintroducing it to the bush—first with native grasses in its enclosure, then supervised foraging outdoors. “He’s got muscle now,” she said. “He hops, but still stays close.” She expects to release him fully by June. Macca mentioned how stories like this often bring follow-ups, and sure enough, another caller rang in to share a similar tale of a short-beaked echidna found injured near Kangaroo Valley. That one had taken to soft-boiled eggs and mealworms and was now back digging in a bush reserve.

• From Papua New Guinea, an expat working with coffee growers in the Eastern Highlands called in during his early morning. He described the mist lifting from the forest slopes and the chaos of the Mount Hagen markets, where coffee beans, sweet potatoes, pigs and mobile phone credit are all traded in one place. He’d recently attended a sing-sing in a village outside Goroka, where tribes had gathered in full regalia—shells, ochre, and birds of paradise feathers—to perform their clan dances. He said the cultural depth of PNG was something Australians often overlooked, even though the Highlands were just a few hours north by air. He was helping coordinate a co-op model for smallholder farmers, many of whom grow Arabica beans at over 1,600 metres elevation. “They don’t call it highland coffee for nothing,” he said.

• In the studio, Kieran Kelly dropped by with an update on his upcoming trek along the John Muir Trail in the U.S. He unpacked his rucksack in the studio, revealing a lightweight tent, a battered journal full of bush poems from his grandfather, and a carefully wrapped billy. He read out one verse: “The wattle blooms where rain has passed / and quiet tea is brewed at last.” He and Macca compared the American trail culture—shelters, switchbacks, food canisters—with the more solitary and unpredictable nature of Australian bushwalking.

A great doco about the John Muir Trail:

• There were more quick calls before the morning ended: a beekeeper in Stanthorpe mentioned late-flowering ironbark had delayed their honey harvest by a month; a teacher in Charleville told the story of the 1902 meteorite that landed near town and sat outside the post office for decades; and a carpenter in Bega shared how he’s begun carving tool handles from reclaimed jarrah offcuts.

Listen to the podcast episode here.

Disclaimer: Brisbane Suburbs Online News has no affiliation with Ian McNamara or the “Australia All Over Show.” This weekly review is an attempt to share the wonderful stories that Ian broadcasts each week and add value to what is a smorgasbord of great insights.