The exact problem with some of Australia's most intriguing outback spaces (what, exactly, is out there?) is the answer, which is nothing. That's why most tourists, and for that matter, most Australians, never occasion to leave this country's de facto Boardwalk -- the coastal serenity that safeguards all the major cities and most of the must-see landmarks.

There are some distinct suggestions, then, that towns like Bourke, NSW, receive few visitors. The town's Web site (www.visitbourke.com) denotes local taxi service information by listing of two mobile numbers, one for a guy named Lonnie, the other for a guy named Stan.

The rare traveller who pushes beyond the 300-km radius of Sydney finds himself, indeed, in the hairy frontier. You can even play around on Google Maps and decipher as much. The gaping forgottenness of New South Wales connects a few straight roads with a few dusty Main Street-type towns; the rest of the land is left to the lizards and the dry riverbeds.

I bring this all up only because my last week of work at the Tely -- final work date is April 1 -- will somehow allow me to travel through my state's netherworld. I leave tomorrow for Dubbo, six hours away, right at the junction between the arid region and the desert. After a night at the Cattleman's Ranch, and possibly after a dinner at the Billabong Reef and Beef, I'm off to Cobar -- a mining town of roughly 5,000 known for its chiefly for its rugby and its demoralizing suicide rate.

Cobar is the focus of my reporting, by the way. I'll be writing a piece of the rugby team there, hopefully with the backdrop of some fascinating social issues. I'll drink with the rugby guys on Thursday, spend some quality time with a few blokes on Friday, and attend their game (two hours north, in Bourke) on Saturday.

Originally, the Saturday game was scheduled to be played in Dubbo. But the president of the Cobar Camels called me and mentioned that the match and location had switched; "We're playing Bourke!" he roared. "The local rivalry!" And like that, I received the opportunity to make it up to the last northern outpost of humanity -- a town that 19th century Australian explorer Charles Sturt once deemed "unlikely to become the haunt of civilised man."

Over the next few days, I'll take plenty of photos to document the travels. Can't yet predict the availability of Internet access, much less the availability of drinking water and consumable canned goods, but if the opportunity surfaces, I'll provide some G'DFT updates mid-trip.