Service in 1928, which was destined to become the familiar
Royal Flying Doctor Service. But it was not until 1977 that a
fledgling Uniting Church adopted the name Frontier Services
for its outback missions.
Raised with three older brothers and a younger sister on a
dairy farm in chardonnay country on the east coast of New
Zealand’s North Island, the young Colin Gordon harboured a
dream to fly. Today, strong family ties remain significant for the
padre, who displays considerable people skills, a trait he attrib-
utes to his mother. “She would see a stranger at a local cafe and
crack a conversation with them,” he recalls. “Next thing you
know, they’re having lunch with us.”
At age 30, Colin turned from engineering to chaplaincy, a
move he now sees as a natural progression. “It meant freedom
and scope to be with people. If you are a social worker, you’re
a bit restricted,” he explains. “Yesterday, for example, I wanted
to stay another hour to talk and I could; I didn’t have to
justify it to anyone.”
After eight years as a navy chaplain, Colin sought a new
challenge and in 2011 answered a job advertisement by Frontier
Services. Halfway through the interview, as he tells it, they “asked
if I’d like to learn to fly”.
Now the padre flies with teachers, students and others to
stations, remote communities and far-flung outposts. Occa-
sionally, he even takes volunteer playgroup coordinators.
“ Parents from stations around the district come together and
have a chit-chat while playgroup goes on,” Colin says. “They
tell me they’ve been waiting for someone to do this for years.”
It is part of a strategy for pastoral care. Similar to Flynn before
him (who had a knack for fixing sewing machines), Colin is
more pragmatic than religious. “I need a fridge magnet,” he
jokes. “A picture from the front of my plane with a twinkle from
my teeth: ‘Got a problem, see the padre!’”
Being practical has advantages. It means respite for the over-
worked and provides an ‘in’ with outback men and women.
Nevertheless, men, in particular, remain challenging. “In the navy,
when you wanted to talk to a bloke you played sport,” Colin says.
“Ask him to come to your office to talk about life, and he’d
likely turn you down.”
That lesson now serves him well. “I’ll jump on a tractor or
bike, go mustering, sharpen chainsaws. People respond because
they trust you,” he explains. “One bloke told me ‘When I see your
car coming I relax – you’re not going to sell me something.’ A
padre never wants much; maybe a cup of tea.”
Colin stows a final item – a chainsaw – in the rear of the
Cessna before take-off and bangs shut the hatch. Our destination
is the remote Aboriginal community of Kaltukatjara in the North-
ern Territory’s south-western corner – 495km (and two hours)
by air from Alice Springs and about 10km from the Western
Australia border. There we’ll cut firewood for the aged care cen-
tre and spend time with staff. As the runway rushes beneath, the
aircraft hits 40 knots and the real-time aircraft tracking deviceOn the job. At Kings Canyon, Colin
visits a team building an exclusion
fence. Ranger Pete Beddows, centre,
talks with the padre as Conrad Bray
tightens the fence.38 Australian Geographic