A couple of people I spoke to before we left nodded and said enthusiastically that they “loved the place” but others looked a little quizzical and one person asked “Why are you going there?”
Hmmmmm. Why were we going to Broken Hill? I suppose we were after a sniff of the outback – to stand at the edge and get a look at that vast interior, so unlike the verdant, hilly, populated areas by the coast. A yearning for something different.
We started to experience that about an hour out of Broken Hill. Maybe it was an hour and a half though. It was hard to know. I didn’t realise until we got close but Broken Hill operates on SA time and this was something that our car’s clock and the GPS disagreed upon which meant it showed we had already arrived when quite obviously, we hadn’t. So we kept driving. Into the setting sun. I had the opportunity the day before to go back and get my sunglasses as I realised I hadn’t packed them when we were approximately five minutes from home. But I didn’t, because it’s winter, right? I hadn’t needed them for months. The glow was golden as syrup but still too bright and I couldn’t stretch high enough in my seat to block out the sun so handed the driving role back to husband. At least I could gaze out the window properly now. What I saw was a soft grey green, not the harsh red that I expected. Quite lush. No trees of course which is completely unlike my home in the Dandenongs but I enjoyed the contrast.
We soon came to understand that Broken Hill is all about the sunsets. They are vast and burnt orange and stunning in their grandeur. We saw a sunset over the city itself from the Line Of Lode memorial which commemorates the eight hundred men that died doing their job in the mines. At the Living Desert State Park the next night we witnessed the sunset surrounded by towering elegant contemporary sculptures. Back in the 1990s a number of sculptors from all over the world joined together to inspire each other and produce these sculptures that reflect beliefs and mythology from many of the world’s different locales. It’s well worth a visit as is the nearby botanical park that features the dainty low slung flowering plants of the desert realm.
You may remember Broken Hill from the movie, Priscilla Queen of the Desert. Whilst on our two and a half hour wind-blown walking tour of the city, our guide, Duck, pointed out the Palace Hotel which was featured in the movie. Duck is an ex-miner in his early 70s. He and a couple of mates have picked up the baton from the couple in their 90s that used to run the daily free walking tours. He paused and reflected that he saw some “interesting sights” around town when the movie was being shot but that if we were interested then perhaps we could consider the Drag Bingo night on Tuesday.
I think Duck’s real name was Don but Duck he will remain to me. Apparently all the miners had nicknames. One of the group piped up and asked why he had that nickname. He was a short fellow, a descendant of one of those early Cornish miners, so maybe duck because he was short (like a duck? Or ironically because he didn’t have to duck?) I was over thinking it. His name was Donald (insert surname that also started with a D). That became Donald Duck and in that Aussie way, got shortened even further to Duck. Duck took us into the Trades Hall building in town where there was a banner featuring a list of miners and their nicknames. I can’t begin to convey how important the trade union movement was to Broken Hill. This was something Duck communicated very well and clearly through his colourful and sometimes shocking stories of working in the mine. The day before we were on this tour we went on a tour of the Daydream Mine, just out of Silverton. Broken Hill in the 1960s and 1970s was ridiculously similar to mining at Daydream in the early 1900s. Dirty and dangerous.
It was cold in Broken Hill, no doubt about it. The maximums were similar to what we had been experiencing during a cold Melbourne winter but the sky was blue and the sun shone. Shame about that wind though. It hadn’t seemed to have stopped for breath on its way from the Antarctic. When we got to our cute little colonial Air b n b Cottage we pumped up the heating. It wasn’t long until we were cozy and warm. I imagine the early residents, prepared for the hot summers, might have been shocked and suffered in the cool winters. I just remembered that that was another reason for visiting Broken Hill- we ourselves thought it might have been a little warmer than home.
We made side trips to Silverton (a picturesque ghost town where Mad Max movies were shot) and the Minindee Lakes (full of water- which is unusual) and learnt of other nearby attractions. Well, when I say nearby, the definition of that is on a different scale out here. Wilcannia and White Cliffs will have to wait. Next July we’re off to Darwin for some guaranteed warmth!
Planning your Broken Hill holiday? Start here; https://destinationbrokenhill.com.au/
Want to see more from Helen Jahn? Read here; https://mountainashchapter.com.au/?author=7
