The First S.M.U.T.I.

Stockroute Morven Ultra Thirsty Invitational

Some lessons in life are taught with words. The ones that really stick are taught by doing.

If I’ve learnt anything as a parent, it’s this: you don’t tell your kids to be resilient, curious or brave — you live in a way that lets them see it, feel it, and eventually choose it for themselves.

This story is about one of those moments. A self-created ultra endurance event. A remote Queensland town. A burnt-down pub. And my 13-year-old son quietly deciding to run his first marathon in the middle of nowhere.

No fanfare. No plan. No Instagram post beforehand.

Just lived experience.

Where the Pub Burnt Down

Morven sits in remote western Queensland. It’s a proper Australian bush town. Long horizons. Big skies. Hard land. Resilient, Community people.

Years ago, the local pub burnt to the ground. And there it sat. Empty. No beer. No meeting place. No heartbeat.

Eighty-eight kilometres east or west was the next watering hole. Land and licences changed hands, but nothing happened. The block stayed vacant — and slowly, it sucked the life out of the town.

Until a group of seven local families did what country people do best. They didn’t wait. They didn’t complain. They banded together, bought the land and licence, and rebuilt the pub themselves.

Sadlier’s Waterhole was born.

That matters more than city people often realise. In rural Australia, pubs aren’t just pubs. They’re town halls, counselling rooms, celebration spaces, negotiation tables, grief centres. They’re glue.

And the families who run properties out here — with fewer services, less convenience, less margin for error — are also the ones feeding cities and keeping the fabric of the country intact.

This was the backdrop.

Enter Dave (We All Need a Dave)

Dave and I met years earlier in a glass tower overlooking Brisbane City. City jobs. Long pants, shoes. Views of Mt Coot-tha and the river.

We bonded in the bike locker downstairs. Soon we were running most lunch breaks, sometimes squeezing in swims at the QUT pool.

Dave’s sister-in-law was one of the families rebuilding the Morven pub.

Dave is a devoted husband and dad of three. He rides to work. Runs at lunch. Refuses to let life become a loop of emails and obligations.

He also grew up in Asia, went to Australian boarding schools — and at one point had a baby elephant living in his family compound while a zoo was renovated.

So yes… perspective.

Dave decided to mark the pub’s reopening with an ultra run. From the family homestead to the pub. 50km in a straight line. The pub opened on Tuesday, we arrived Thursday and Saturday we ran....

Naturally, it needed a name.

SMUTI — Stockroute Morven Ultra Thirsty Invitational.

The Rules (Because Dave)

Rules were announced the night before over local lamb and far too much red wine:

• Your time didn’t stop until you ordered and drank a beer

• The event wasn’t over until your combined run + beer-drinking time equalled the hours it took you to drive there (we all travelled 9hrs+)

• Bonus points for blisters, cramps, wildlife encounters, getting lost, or wanting to quit

Dave has a unique view of success.

The Crew

Dave invited:

Dom — a big country lad with an important city job, ex-rugby body and knees, who’d recently lost 60kg

Josh — an exceptional ultra runner and cyclist, quietly stoic, mentally forged through long solo efforts

Me — because saying no would’ve been suspicious

And my son Baylin, riding alongside us on his mountain bike.

Josh and I would detour via the dingo fence and a neighbouring property, running the edge of the largest privately owned dam in the southern hemisphere — turning our day into a 65km unsupported journey.

This was September 2020. COVID restrictions. No phone reception. No Traffic. No one around.

We dropped water days earlier, spray-painting the road so we could find it again. Anything left in the bush would be eaten by goannas or smashed by wild pigs. So we carried all we could eat.

Our biggest concern? King Browns. Mulga snakes. Second deadliest in the world.

We’d already seen one dead on the road — and one very alive, very alert metre-long specimen the day before.

Consequences out here are real.

The Long Road In

Dave and Dom left before dawn.

Josh, Baylin and I followed 30 minutes later, navigating gates, fences and handwritten directions on satellite maps, across unmarked land.

The sunrise was spectacular. Then the heat arrived. The flies arrived. The reality arrived.

We spotted kangaroos, fresh snake tracks, wild pig signs.

Eventually we found the dam — enormous — and jogged a kilometre along its edge before hitting the road to town.

That’s when it unravelled.

Baylin got two flat tyres. Unfixable.

Suburban tyres don’t survive western Queensland thorns.

So Baylin started jogging. And I pushed the bike.

The bitumen was brutal. No shade. Heat radiating upward. Red dirt, sand, sharp stones lining the road.

When I slowed, flies swarmed my face. When I ran faster, they happily hitched a ride on my back.

We hadn’t seen another human in over five hours.

Eventually, our homestead host appeared silently behind us in her LandCruiser — proof there’s no traffic because we never heard her coming.

She took Baylin and the bike ahead to join Dave and Dom.

Baylin protested. But off he went.

A Quiet Decision

Somewhere along the road, something clicked for Baylin.

After running, then jogging, then running again — unexpectedly — he decided:

“I’m going to run a marathon today.”

No announcement. No drama. Just a self-set goal.

Josh and I pushed on, talking about life, adventure, dreams, and what we’d demolish for dinner. The horizon played tricks on us. Distance felt elastic.

Josh is a great runner with a great mind. So the km's ticked by as I gained an insight of his intelligence and depth of thought around diving into what humans pursue.

Near town we saw the second vehicle of the day — a tractor.

Then emus crossed the road, chicks darting behind them.

And from about a kilometre out, running toward us, was a small figure with a mop of blonde hair.

Baylin.

He’d been running laps around the pub waiting for us — building his distance to 42.2km.

Town locals had binoculars out. Word had spread. Baylin, his face flushed red, said he'd been cutting laps around the town block and was close to 42.2km. I did a big lap with him.

Why This Matters

Baylin finished his first marathon that day. Further west, further from the ocean, and further outside his comfort zone than he’d ever been.

Not because I told him to. Not because I pushed him.

But because he’s grown up watching discomfort normalised. Watching effort. Watching commitment. Watching hard things attempted without guarantees.

This is how strong mindsets are built.

Not through lectures. But through example.

Ultra endurance has never been about medals for me. It's about embedding a way of living — one where challenge is expected, discomfort isn’t avoided, and resilience becomes transferable.

To school. To relationships. To work. To setbacks.

It becomes a foundation for contributing meaningfully to society.

The Finish Line

We arrived dusty, stinky and sun-kissed. Cold beers were ordered. Ginger beer for Baylin.

Stories were swapped. Bonus points tallied.

I scored for pushing a bike. Baylin scored big for an unplanned marathon. Josh for finding our lost way around the property and dam.

But Dom won outright — massive blisters on both feet and an entire day tolerating Dave’s complaints.

Some victories can’t be disputed.

The Real Takeaway

Create adventures. Invite your kids in. Let them see you struggle. Let them choose their own challenges.

Because one day, without prompting, they’ll surprise you.

And those are the memories that last.

That was the first SMUTI. And it won’t be the last.

Big thanks, to our hosts Louise and Dave, Angellala Station, for allowing Baylin, Zayd and I to stay a few days, ride motorbikes and ATV's and create family memory making outback experiences!

Dom, Josh and Dave - what was the first of many outback adventures, top blokes all round!

Josh searching for water stash SMUTI 2020