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Published: September 1st 2014
I feel a bit like the lead singer from Fiddler on the Roof tonight. I’ve just been going through my last few days worth of photos, and its all about the sun … the light ….
We are camped at the Broken Hill Race Course … right up next to the side rail of the track. Before us is the flat open expanse of the centre of the race track and beyond that hills and plains. I got very carried away last evening at sunset while the shadows lengthened and the red colours got richer and deeper. But this morning I awoke at the very break of dawn and simply had to get up and out with my camera … you can see for yourself just how magic the morning was as the sun slowly made its way over the hill. Last night’s sunset paled into insignificance and has not even made it into this batch of photos.
By 6.30am the light show was all done and dusted and we were bathed in glorious early morning Broken Hill sunshine … but the magic was set to continue as the trainers and horses moved onto the track at 7am for
their early morning workouts. I’m not sure who was most delighted … Lou and I with our cameras and an uninterrupted view of the horses going through their paces, or the riders who were clearly amused to see these two women with their cameras aimed at them as they flew by.
The day went downhill weather wise from that perfect morning start, but it really didn’t matter too much. I explored the township of Broken Hill somewhat, searching for post office and hardware store. Found a car wash which Sally very much appreciated and then set off to follow the Heritage Trail signs which was very interesting until they suddenly petered out without any warning and I was left stranded in the western outskirts of suburban Broken Hill. However it did help me get a good feel for the layout of the “lode” and various mines.
At Brown’s Shaft and Lookout I was fortunate enough to have a wonderful conversation with the driver of a scenic tour bus who was waiting for his passengers and guide to return. He was very intrigued with Polly who was attached to me by her lead fastened around my waist (my normal
method of taking her with me when I have my camera in my hands). Polly was having a “slow” day today having been quite worn out by all the accumulated activities of the past couple of weeks. I had to lift her over a fairly low log barricade, and this chap had to know how old she was etc. So we ended up having quite a conversation. He was born and bred in Broken Hill, a miner himself until he and 500 other miners were laid off by the company several years back, and himself the son of a miner who worked here way back. He told me how his father had worked in the shaft in front of us, and pointed to another three (now disused) shafts on the skyline where he himself had worked. He spoke fondly of the days when the “company” was good to its workers, when jobs were secure and a bloke could buy himself a car and house and be confident that he would have a job long enough to pay for it. He was very sorry for the miners of today who have no job security to enable them such luxuries apparently. I
asked him what it was like working underground – oh it was o’rite when I was young … we used to lark around and have fun. But then it all got very serious, the company put pressure on the bosses, and they then took it out on us. Not much fun then.”
After the Heritage Trail petered out on me, I accidentally stumbled upon the Pro Hart Gallery … and that would have to be the highlight of my day. Wow …. And guess what, I was allowed to take photographs of the art works …. So that will be the subject of my next blog.
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