Philip Merry rearranges tins of SPAM on the shelf in his shop.
The choice is limited and prices are what you would expect them to be in one of the most remote roadhouses in Australia.
But SPAM and corned beef are not staples of Mr Merry’s diet, whose curries and cherry and sultana cake are renowned.
“You have to be a good cook out here, otherwise you live on cooked beans,” he said with a smile, raising his gaze, generally lowered to the ground, for a second.
Mr Merry is the sole resident and manager of Ilkurlka, the only roadhouse on the Anne Beadell Highway — a 1,300-kilometre desert track connecting Laverton in the WA’s Goldfields with Coober Pedy in South Australia.
Ilkurlka serves tourists testing their four-wheel driving skills, and locals travelling between the remote Aboriginal communities of Tjuntjuntjara, Blackstone and Wingellina.
A busy bush lifestyle
The roads around Ilkurlka are no more than rough desert tracks, but travellers are rewarded by a varied landscape.
The grassland becomes jumbled red dunes, dotted with spinifex and wildflowers against a background of marble gums and salt lakes.
Mr Merry estimates that, in a year, roughly 1,000 people travel east to west, and just as many travel north to south.
Traffic on the sandy roads around Ilkurlka is scarce, especially in summer when high temperatures become hard to bear for many tourists, but not for Mr Merry.
“It’s not much more than mid-forties, it’s quite pleasant. I emigrated from England for a very good reason, that was it,” he laughed.
A fly buzzes around his face, but Mr Merry doesn’t seem fazed. Like the peace and quiet, it’s part of the bush lifestyle he loves.
“I don’t mind my own company, if you have a problem with that, you would not be up here,” he said.
Except for the odd visit, life in the Great Victorian Desert is solitary, but it’s no refuge for contemplation.
“It can be a busy lifestyle, despite what it might look like,” Mr Merry said.
The 60-year-old is the only person to look after the needs of tourists and locals, providing fuel, food, accommodation and local knowledge.
Rescue operations are a common occurance in Ilkurlka and Mr Merry has helped several travellers stuck on the rough tracks.
He works with the community and Blackstone police, based about 350 kilometres north of the roadhouse, to retrieve missing vehicles or people between them.
They have saved a few lives, but Mr Merry takes a practical approach to it.
“It’s just routine stuff for a rescue: you do it, job finished,” he said.
Ilkurlka has an airstrip to fly people out in medical emergencies. But it is used more often by the mail plane, which lands once a week to deliver small parcels, letters and lightweight parts.
The food sold at Ilkurlka comes from the shop in Tjuntjuntjara, where it is delivered fortnightly by a truck from Ceduna, in South Australia.
The fuel comes from Laverton in relatively small loads, and like the food it comes at an increased cost.
“People complaining about the prices, I think sometimes they don’t quite understand the cost of delivery,” Mr Merry said.
“Ultimately, it is a not-for-profit [organisation] and with a low level of turnover we are scratching to make ends meet.”
The remote centre of Spinifex country
Ilkurlka is managed by the Paupiyala Tjarutja Corporation on behalf of the traditional owners, the Spinifex People.
Although it could hardly be more distant from major cities, Ilkurlka is the centre of Spinifex country.
Mr Merry came to the area 12 years ago, when he was still working in mineral exploration, and said the friendships he made are some of the best things about his job.
“I don’t feel lonely. Mainly because I can always go down to Tjuntjuntjara to socialise,” he said.
The roadhouse is also an outlet for the Spinifex Arts Project, with some of the works on sale painted by renowned local artists.
One artist whose pieces were at Ilkurlka long before they hung in major international galleries is Simon Hogan.
He recently flew to London to see his paintings on display at the British Museum.
A picture commemorating the event hangs from the wall at Ilkurlka. It’s of Mr Hogan shaking King Charles’ hand.
The roadhouse has in the past hosted art camps with elders from Tjuntjuntjara, but Mr Merry said that was less practical now.
Some of the artists are too old to travel on such a rough road.
At 60, Mr Merry has no plans to retire, or leave Ilkurlka.
“It’s not in mind at all and I can’t think of a more congenial place to be,” he said.
