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Published: June 30th 2021
Saturday mornings are apparently family mornings at Fiona's so we head there to share in the chaos and to meet her two grandchildren. Issy's always been a sucker for babies, so I suspect Fiona's daughter Sarah may struggle to reclaim seven week old Henri-Etta from my beloved's firm grasp. Two year old Jerry has recently discovered the not so subtle art of high-fiving. I'm not quite sure why his hands aren't stinging; those belonging to anyone else in his general vicinity certainly are.
Today we head north-west from Swan Hill to Mildura, and hope to take in some silo art along the way to break up the journey. We read that silo art started in Western Australia’s wheat belt in 2015, and there are now 48 sites across the country, with many more in the pipeline. One of its main aims is to attract tourists to regional communities, many of which are struggling.
First stop is the not so thriving metropolis of Culgoa. We assume that the art on the silos here has become a bit overly faded over time, or so it seemed until we discover that we're in the wrong town. Next stop is the even less
thriving metropolis of Nullawil, population about three and a half. We're not sure whether this includes the two policemen who've planted their cars not so subtly across the highway to breath-test passers by. The turn off to the car park we need to get into to view the silos is just in front of the paddy wagons, but Issy says that if we turn into it they'll think we're trying to do a runner. The constable tells us that if we'd done a U-turn they would indeed have come after us with lights and sirens blazing. That might at least have given the locals something to talk about. It would have been a short chase; we end up parking about twenty metres from where we got breath tested. It's lunchtime, which leaves us wondering how many drunk motorists they're hoping to catch in a one-horse town at this time of the day. I s'pose we're on a highway, so I guess they might potentially intercept a few tipsy out of towners.
The main feature of the stunning art work is a sheep dog. We marvel at the skills of the artist(s). I can't draw stick figures on a small
flat piece of paper, yet these guys have managed to produce a masterpiece on the curved side of what is the equivalent of about a six storey building.
Next stop is Sea Lake. We were here last night and managed not to notice the silos. This was some achievement given that they're by far the tallest buildings in town. The art work is again stunning, this time featuring a young girl on a swing. There's a spectacular sunset behind her reflected in what is presumably intended to represent Lake Tyrrell.
We're hungry and in need of a sandwich. What seems to be the only cafe in town is about to close, but the elderly owner kindly agrees to make us some rolls. He says we should thank our lucky stars, as we've stumbled across what is probably the only open cafe within about a hundred kilometre radius. He's half way through production before realising that he should perhaps have asked us what we wanted as filling. He tells us that he's done a course on sandwich making, and proceeds to give us chapter and verse on the order in which the various ingredients need to be applied. I
had no idea there was so much to know about making something that I'd previously thought even I could concoct without too much trouble. By the time he's finished talking we feel like we've done the course too. He tells us that his was the only one of three cafes in town that managed to survive the COVID lockdown, and no surprise given the eye watering price we're charged for a few humble salad items shoved into a couple of lumps of bread. I think we might be helping him recoup the cost of his course.
Next stop is Lascelles. This looks positively like a ghost town, and there seem to be more abandoned houses here than not. It feels slightly creepy. As we pull up next to the silos we can hear some very discontented sounding dogs barking angrily in the distance. The only person we've seen who doesn't look like they're here to look at the silos is in a dusty backstreet painting signs on the side of a table with what looks like pumpkins perched on it. I think he's hoping to make a sale, but it's hard to imagine there are nearly enough people here
to make it worth his while. It all feels very sad. We'd heard that a lot of these Wimmera towns were dying, with houses and shops just being abandoned, and there seems little doubt that this is true based on what we've seen today. Hopefully the art can attract a few tourists. It is again excellent, this time featuring an elderly farming couple. We discover the wife virtually by accident - she's only visible to those willing to take a hike a few hundred metres along the train track from the car park. So much for women's equality. The art's all in monochrome, which only serves to add to its atmosphere. A sign tells us that it was done with the aid of a scissor lift, which clears up at least one of the questions I had hanging around in the back of my mind.
Next and last stop on today's leg of the tour is Patchewollock. There are a few more signs of life here than there were in Lascelles, including the attractive looking "Patche Pub", which somehow gives the impression of being a bit of a local institution. We hope that maybe this is a sign of
relative prosperity. Then again maybe not; on closer inspection it seems that it's currently up for sale. The art work is impressive as usual, this time depicting a young farmer in a wheat field. Issy says this is her favourite of today's collection, as it really captures the mood of the area.
We've been brave and unplanned again, and only booked our Mildura accommodation on-line this morning. We went for an apartment based on pictures on the website showing it as having a good sized sitting area with full length windows. It's location looked good also - close to downtown restaurants. We get a call from the proprietors. They tell us that unfortunately we won't be able to stay in the same apartment for all three of the nights we've booked; we’ll have to move mid-stay. They then ask us if we realise that the apartment we've booked doesn't have any windows; none at all. I think the question is almost redundant. I'm not entirely sure anyone would ever knowingly elect to spend a supposedly relaxed three day sojourn in a windowless room. We tell them that in that case we'll cancel and stay in a motel, so could
they please arrange to give us our money back. They tell us that unfortunately this won't be possible, as we've booked through a third party website, and it was noted as being non-refundable. This is not going at all to plan. I'd been feeling quite relaxed until now. They go on to tell us that if we give them more money they can put us in an apartment with windows, but this is on the outskirts of town, nowhere near the other apartment, and certainly not within a bull's roar of anywhere we can get a bite to eat. To add insult to injury, they tell us that when we move from one apartment to the other, we'll need to be out of the first one by 10am and can't get into the second one until four hours later. Arguing with the person on the other end of the phone is like talking to a brick wall. They seem to have us over a barrel and they're milking it for all it's worth. I'm ready to kill someone and I think Issy's sensing I might not be too fussy about who it is.
The central Mildura restaurant strip is full of life, and unlike in Melbourne at this time of the year it's just about warm enough to sit outside. We enjoy a pleasant curry. I'd like to wash it down with half a dozen beers to calm me down after being extorted by our beloved accommodation providers. But of course I can't; our bed for the night isn't within walking distance. Grrrrrr. At least I can now look forward to writing the review.
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D MJ Binkley
Dave and Merry Jo Binkley
Silo Art
How magnificent!