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Published: November 22nd 2009
We're back on the road!
After checking out of the Sydney Central YHA on the 18th November we went to Central Station (having remembered quite how much our bags weighed on the short walk there!) and found the platform for the Indian Pacific train. It's name comes from the fact that it runs between the Indian and Pacific oceans on its twice weekly 4,352 kilometres trip between Sydney and Perth, via a select few stops. We were only interested in one, Broken Hill. We checked out bags in (yes, checked in - like at an airport!) and found our very comfortable seats. Just as well they were comfortable really, we were to be in them for the next 18 hours. Yikes.
The journey was remarkably smooth, although that might be because we still haven't got used to the idea of travelling without ear-bleedingly loud Asian pop, durians at our feet and people sleeping in the aisles. We settled down and watched the scenery zip past as the evening drew in, slightly disappointed that the lush greenery of New South Wales extended further than we thought it would and we didn't get to see the beginning of the arid bushland
before night drew in. After a reasonable night's sleep in the big chairs we awoke early to find the green hills had been replaced by the orange dust and mangy looking scrubs that we had been waiting for. We even had a dust storm blowing past us for a little while, the sky darkening again as it enveloped the train for half an hour or so.
Finally we pulled into Broken Hill at around 8am, sleepy but excited to see the first stop on our way round Australia. Broken Hill is an isolated outback mining town just before the South Australia border that boasts some rich and tragic history. BHP Billiton, Australia's biggest company and one that was partly responsible for the development of Australia into a major industrialised nation was founded here and the BHP in the name stands for Broken Hill Proprietary, something not a lot of Australians I spoke to in Sydney seemed to know. Silver ore was found in Broken Hill (nicknamed The Silver City) in 1883 by a man called Charles Rasp and this led to the rapid development of the town as prospectors rushed in. The ground is still mined today and the
area boasts some of the world's largest deposits of silver, zinc and lead. Even the streets are named after metals and minerals found in the ground. However, as the mining industry has suffered over the years, so has the town and it's focus is now shifting to its burgeoning art scene as residents, inspired by the harsh outback, various mining disasters and the decline in the city's fortunes, express themselves in various galleries around town. We were told that at Broken Hill's peak there were 20 working mines and over 8,000 people employed in the industry. Now there are three active mines and only a few hundred people working in them. The population of the town has dwindled to 20,000 as a result.
We checked into the old but clean YHA that we had booked and had a quick shower before deciding to head out to the small village of Silverton, 25 kilometres outside of Broken Hill. If the history and atmosphere around Broken Hill is maudlin then Silverton is downright miserable. Around the time that Broken Hill was just starting up as a mining town silver was also discovered in Silverton. However, just as the town started to
flourish and 3,000 people had settled there, the miners in Broken Hill were hitting the jackpot below the ground and so virtually the whole town of Silverton left to join in the rush down the road. As a result Silverton is a virtual ghost town with only around 25 people remaining in the desolate and barren desert village to keep a cafe, museum, hotel and three art galleries running. We got a taxi to the hotel which is near the centre of the village and started to walk around the abandoned buildings and the few remaining businesses. By now it was about 10am and the temperature was really starting to pick up. It had been hot when we stepped off the train a couple of hours previous but now it was scorching. I mean really hot. To the point where breathing in hurt the back of my throat the air was so hot and dry. We had packed plenty of water for the trip around the village but before long we had downed it all and were still gasping. We walked around the galleries and saw some really nice outback art, as well as just taking in the general ambience
of the village for a couple of hours before we could bear the heat and thirst no longer and walked back to the hotel for a cooling beer. The Silverton Hotel has been used in so many films, TV shows and commercials it is instantly recognisable. It's austere location and traditional outback Aussie style make it perfect for use and it has featured in Mad Max, Priscilla Queen of The Desert, various Australian films and several XXXX beer adverts. We sat inside chatting to the owner (who informed us the temperature had hit 44 degrees celcius that day!) and a few other tourists while enjoying a couple of ice cold XXXXs before calling a cab to take us back to Broken Hill.
When our cab arrived the driver suggested we go a few minutes out of our way to visit a lookout point over the Mundi Mundi Plain so we agreed, without really knowing what it was. We drove a few minutes out of Silverton on the rolling road before we crested a small hill and the driver pulled over. The gentle hilly landscape suddenly ended and we were faced with a pancake-flat bright orange desert all the way
to the horizon, without a man-made structure in view. It was quite spectacular. Across the plain we could see dozens of mini cyclones of red dust snaking their way across the sand. The driver said that they were called dust devils and were very common in the outback, sometimes building up to the point where they can cause damage. As we drove back to Broken Hill we actually saw one crossing the road ahead of us and caught it on video:
We headed back to the YHA for a couple of hours sleep after our overnight train journey and exhausting morning in the heat. When we woke up we planned on walking up the huge hill by the town's train station to see the view of the town from the top but after a few minutes walking in the heat we decided to drop into a pub for another cold beer instead. There we struck up conversation with various locals who were all curious to know what had brought two scruffy poms to Broken Hill. They were all really friendly and we had a few beers with them before grabbing a quick pub meal and heading back
for an early night, much to our new friends' disappointment.
The next day we hired bicycles from the YHA and rode down to the southern part of the town, a few minutes down the highway, thankful that the weather had turned much cooler. Broken Hill South seemed somewhat less charming and more like the slightly scary outback town you might expect to see in something like Wolf Creek but we were there for a specific reason and would not be deterred. We had heard about a brilliantly preserved 1950s milk bar that was still selling milkshakes and waffles and had barely changed in 60 years. As Broken Hill still felt like it was stuck in the fifties this seemed an appropriate place for breakfast and we we wolfed down fresh waffles with ice cream and superb milkshakes in the fantasticly kitsch surroundings. The girl behind the counter seemed utterly baffled as to why we would want to take pictures of the cafe she worked in and regarded us with suspicion while we snapped away and called each other Daddy-O.
After breakfast we cycled back to the main part of town in seach of something called The Big Picture.
One of the guys in the pub the night before had told us about the world's largest canvas painting in Broken Hill. This seemed an unlikely boast for a place as remote as Broken Hill but sure enough, as we arrived at the gallery we read about Peter Anderson, known locally as Ando, and his 100 metre long, 12 metre high canvas depicting the outback around Silverton and Broken Hill. The picture is wrapped around a wall and the viewing platform is in the middle, giving you the impression that you have actually stepped into the picture. It was stunning and without doubt one of the highlights of our trip to Broken Hill. You can see the picture at this link but unfortunately it really doesn't feel the same as standing in front of the canvas:
http://silvercitymint.com.au/store/index.php?main_page=index&cPath=53&zenid=7c5fad166f73f34161eb855b91649650
In the evening we decided to head to The Musicians Club a couple of streets away for some dinner and a few beers. Because of the large numbers of miners who originally lived in the town there are lots of union style clubs and pubs and we had heard that The Musicians Club was the pick of the bunch. We got
our temporary membership and walked into the club that seemed to be a more glitzy version of Peter Kay's Phoenix Nights. We got some food and a few beers and settled in to watch the locals go crazy over the dozens and dozens of slot machines before a country and western band started up. We took this as our cue to leave and headed back to our room through the rather unusual phenomenon of rain in the outback.
On our final day we awoke to find that there was still a light drizzle falling so decided this was a good opportunity to finally climb the hill that looms over the town and see the view from the top. The hill is actually made out of deposits from the original mining operations and on the climb to the top we saw an abandoned old warehouse with various mining equipment rusting outside. When we reached the summit we sat for a while to catch our breaths while looking out over the town. Then we walked through the cafe and souveneir shop to the miners memorial that looked over the edge of the hill. It is an imposing structure, fitting in its
austerity and metallic masculinity. Inside are the names, ages and causes of death of the 800 plus miners who have perished in the mines since the town's beginning. We walked through, horrified at the various gruesome ways the miners had lost their lives in the shafts and quietly paid our respects.
On the way back to the road down the hill we walked around various parts of old mining machinery that had been left behind that seemed somewhat sad.
After three fascinating days in Broken Hill we finally had to leave. We got up early this morning and, grudgingly, said goodbye to the friendly and welcoming Silver City as we boarded the Indian Pacific for our onward journey to Adelaide.
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Steve
non-member comment
Back on the road again
Hello you two, great to see you back on the road and looking forward to more blogs, which have been missed while you worked in Sydney. Broken Hill sounds quite fascinating and i'm sure you have some amazing sights to come. Keep posting the blogs as often as you can. Dad/Steve