We awoke early and decided to get on the road. With a 600-kilometre drive ahead of us we didn’t want to be pulling into Broken Hill in the dark. Check out was as easy as check in – pack the car, drop the key and then head out west in search of the Sturt Highway. The morning started much as the day before had ended, traversing the Hay Plains and pulling into Balranald for breakfast with just a touch of regret. Balranald is the jump off point for Lake Mungo, the dry lake site of some of Australia’s oldest history – indigenous artefacts more than 40,000 years old – and some amazing limestone formations called the Walls of China. The original plan for our trip had us staying overnight at Mungo Lodge and visiting the park. Alas, we had to make a last-minute adjustment as the Park, the lodge and most of the roads in and out had been closed due to recent downpours.
We stopped at Balranald’s Discovery Café in the tourist information centre for breakfast – a couple of egg and bacon rolls with homemade relish. The relish wasn’t some fancy hipster concoction – you could just tell it was from a recipe passed down from someone’s grandma or maybe even made by grandma herself from a 100 year old recipe penned in blue ink in an old notebook with instructions for it to be passed down within the family. My only criticism – it could have done with being on a smaller bun for a better egg, bacon and relish to bread ratio. We also shared dome raisin toast. One of the best things about breakfast in the country is that it comes with butter. Dry toast is one of the things that irks me most about urban cafes. Sure, my daily breakfast substitutes less heart-attack inducing ingredients but when you are having eggs and bacon for breakfast, you aren’t choosing the healthy option so what difference will a smear of butter make?
After breakfast we checked out the tourist information centre and picked up some extra produce for our picnic basket – some chilli kalamata olives and fig paste – and a fridge magnet. Apparently, Balranald must be home to a population of green tree frogs – they were on all the merch – so we thought a new magnet with a floating frog on liquid was the perfect addition to our collection. We also checked out the advice for Lake Mungo, and while the park was open, most of the roads to it and through it remained closed. We decided to continue on our journey the long way to Broken Hill, on sealed rods rather than take our chances – Lake Mungo will likely be more of a spectacle when it isn’t so muddy and slippery out there.
We continued on towards Mildura, alert for roadside fruit vendors. The one thing our cheese platter was lacking was fruit, and as much of the Riverina Murray region falls within the no fruit fly zone, we couldn’t bring fruit from home. Not that there is really much to stop you apart from goodwill. The inspection stations of the past which were more reminiscent of cold war border crossings where quarantine officers searched your car for fruit products have been replaced with warning signs and a roadside bin. As we drove through the Mallee and the roadside scenery changed from scrub to orange trees and grape vines, I thought we might find some plump eating grapes to accompany our cheese selection – Sunraysia is where eating grapes are grown -– both table grapes and those for sultanas. It seems these days, making wine is more profitable. Despite many a roadside sign advertising all manner of fruits (and some vegetables) we couldn’t find anything available except oranges and occasionally eggs. Either the farmers complaints about having to let produce rot on the vines because no one wants to come and pick it are tru3e or we just picked the wrong time to come through. We pulled over at a roadside stall on the back of a ute which operated on an honours system with a cashbox, and in a mark to modernisation creeping in – eftpos details for those who find themselves without cash, We collected a $3 bag of oranges (paid for with cash) and continued on our way. [There Goes the Fear – Doves – a friend introduced me to Doves 17 years ago. As with most of my fave bands, my first experience of them was live. And they had me enthralled. The perfect music to start an early drive while your brain is just a bit too fragile for punk rock.]
As we drew closer to Mildura we came alongside the Murray at various points, with massive houseboats moored along its shores. COVID restrictions meant we couldn’t actually go into Mildura, most of which sits on the Victorian side of the border. We did spy a manned checkpoint as we made our turn north to Wellington where the Darling River meets the Murray. As we continued North the vineyards remained for the first 50 kilometres or so. From that point we saw signs to lakes in the Darling River system but not much direct evidence or irrigated farmland near the roadside at least. As we moved further north on the long straight Silver City Highway heading towards Broken Hill, the earth became redder, the trees shorter and sparser and scrubby shrubs appeared. The pictured bare red earth did not materialise, instead it was carpeted with greenery that contrasted against the red giving rise to a tapestry of colour. Another curiosity appeared alongside is stretching northward – what appeared to be a buried pipeline with different sized hydrants every kilometre or so and warning signs peppered even more frequently between them. The signs were far enough away that it was impossible to read them from the road. Eventually after a failed attempt at a rest stop that was on the wrong side of the highway, we just pulled off the road to discover, as expected, they warned of a high pressure water pipeline buried deep beneath.
The aforementioned rest stop was a hint of the artistic characters that has developed out in these parts, not a sense of urban style as such but a loud brash creativity to much the big personality of this western town founded by miners and its fair share of characters. At the entrance to the rest stop was an old piano, and a fridge that had been turned into a bush library. And we knew we were pretty close because as soon as we stepped out of the car, we were besieged by flies. They annoy me when they come inside at home but here it is a full-time job just keeping them off your face. After our pitstop we pushed on to Broken Hill, spying our first unusual wildlife about 50 kilometres out of town – an emu running away from the road. As we approached Broken Hill, its mining heritage was laid bare. A massive pile of rubble that was presumably once the town’s namesake was all you could see on approach. The mining site which is now home to a miner’s memorial and café splits the town in two.
A sign on entry to Broken Hill notes it is Australia’s first heritage listed town and it is no doubt true that as you drive along its streets, the housing style is heavily weighted towards the early 20th Century – lots of bullnose verandas, fibre sheet and weatherboard homes. There are some stone home amongst them but not the grandiose old dames you see in most of the eastern capitals or Adelaide. With the lack of water out here, the gardens at least in the front of homes are more concrete and pebbles than greenery. In fact, the desert landscape seems more inviting. I thought Broken Hill would have been a prime candidate for modern artificial lawn, but I didn’t see any. While it doesn’t have the same temporary feel as Lightning Ridge where everyone thinks they are going to come to make their fortune and leave. Bit there is a sense of practicality about the place – build where and what you need and a sense of a place past its heyday. Its not clear whether the heritage listing has prevented new architectural adventure or whether moo me except the council is prepared to invest but you do get a sense of neglect and decay as you wander the streets. Not as much as surrounding towns in outback NSW though and there are pockets of creative endeavour and that strong character that still shine through. [The Dead Heart – Midnight Oil – You can’t drive through outback Australia without listening to Midnight Oil – it speaks of the country – the landscape and the indigenous culture tangled up with the harshness of life out here. And despite the fact they are a bunch of blokes from the Northern beaches, it sounds like the outback.]
After a drive through town and a quick stop at Coles for some grapes and strawberries, thanks to the lack of fruit stalls, we headed for our home for the next three nights – the Broken Hill Outback Resort about 10 minutes out of town. On first look resort might be a bit of ab overstatement. It is a set of luxury cabins, a caravan camping ground and a pub. No pool. No room service. No breakfast. The pub was good for a beer and quite busy when we arrived. We sat and enjoyed a cold one. I foolishly ordered a vodka lime and soda which came with lime cordial instead of actual limes. Best to stick to beer out here and I should know that from my trips to Roma. The rooms though are well set up. What looks like a long demountable with motel style parking at the front door of each unit belies what is inside. The airconditioned units have a really comfortable king-sized bed, a functional kitchenette a comfy couch and a TV bigger than the one we have at home. But it is what is at the back of the cabin that makes it so special. The back of the cabins look out onto the desert landscape, positioned so you can watch the sunset without the sun directly on you – from the large covered deck, complete with outdoor deck and dining table, or the spa bath with a full length one way picture window. And they are built so you can’t ever see your neighbours (except if you happen to be going in your front door at the same time.
We took full advantage of the deck, laying out our delicious spread of nibbles and popping a bottle of Moet (which we brought from home. The flies were annoying, but we persevered. As the sun went down, the flies retreated, only to be replaced by a plethora of other bugs. We decided to retreat inside to enjoy our dessert of assorted chocolate goodies collected from Junee. It was a pleasant evening once the sun went down – an advantage of being inland so we slept with the doors open (with screen doors closed at the front and back. I woke up around 3am to see both screens covered with bugs. I looked at my phone and was immediately besieged by a couple of moths that had suck in. Moral to this story – be incredibly quick shutting the screens and do everything in ty dark or leave the aircon on – bugs really don’t like the cold. Putting the phone down did the trick and I drifted back to sleep content and relaxed, if not a little tipsy.
