I am posting today from the small town of Port Augusta in South Australia. This is a laundry stop. We are heading on to the Nullarbor Plains and its coastal lookouts in the extreme southwest part of South Australia. We have just arrived here from from rainy Tibooburra and the Broken Hill region of the New South Wales outback.

Life is full of surprises and last week in particular was full of them. We had a detailed itinerary planned which heavy rains quickly disposed of.

What did we get instead? We got four unexpected days in the remarkable, remote outpost of Tibooburra with its 150 permanent residents, many of whom have lived out their lives there.

Tibooburra is not your cosmopolitan tour de force. It isn't even a cultural high. But it is great fun, and our experiences there reflected the real mood of the people who inhabit the outback. As they say in Tibooburra, "We just are." They live each day as it comes in Tibooburra without pushing too hard.

Kids, adults, and elderly folks just sort of hang out there. There are secrets to be learned, sure, and some interpersonal conflicts too but these folks live well together in a way that reflects their inherent dependency upon one another. In remote areas such as this you learn not to burn any bridges.

I wondered, however, just how an educated person would adjust to this kind of super quiet lifestyle. Cultural and intellectual stimulation does not exist unless you bring your own like Clifton Pugh, the artist who painted his bawdy heart out on the pub walls of the old Family Hotel on Tibooburra's main street. He conquered those walls from floor to ceiling in his quest to survive there. And he did survive there, for some years.

I spent one lazy, rainy afternoon at the local pub talking about 'life' with Gus and Bert, Dutch fellows who were stranded there with us. Gus is a writer and Bert a photographer, both of whom are doing a seven-part article on Australia for a Dutch magazine. I liked them very much. We agreed that life just happens here. Like the huge, empty expanses of flooded outback tracks around us, the folks here just take it all in and absorb it. And endure it, and even revel in it.

That afternoon when the rains subsided I stolled down Main Street to discover a quaint outdoor theater, Tibooburra's own. Two twisted rows of rusty lawn chairs were crowded in front of an equally rusty frame with an imposing screen. Everthing was drenched from the rains. I wondered what movies they watched here, Casablanca do you think? Fridays are movie nights and we weren't even going to be there for one!

But more storm clouds were blowing in and I pulled my jacket around me just a little closer. A rainbow arched its way across the sky. I was reminded of my friend, Julietta Jameson's, haunting words: "Starring two pubs, five dogs, a spectacular landscape and a cast of original characters, Tibooburra gets to the heart and soul of what it means to live and survive in the outback."