We set the alarm for 4am and had intended to spring out of bed and be on the road in five minutes or so to ensure we reached the famed Menindee Lakes before dawn. Our rise was slower and we both decided we needed a hit under the shower to wake us up so our start was a bit delayed. We did however see a pretty impressive dawn on the way out to Menindee Lakes. We also saw a couple of Western grey kangaroos. The first part of the road was not as flat as expected as we wound our way through the foothills of Broken Hill to the floodplain of the lake system below. Despite the promise of a nearby lake on the map, we couldn’t see anything resembling water nearby. Eventually as dawn was starting to break, we spied a sign welcoming us to the little village of Sunset Strip – half a kilometre or so off the road. It appeared to have lake frontage so we followed the road to a shady little community on the banks of the lake. If indeed there was a lake there. We are well aware of the transitory nature of the Menindee lakes system but recent reporting (and rain) had us believing we would see a full water system teeming with bird life, recovered from the fish cull of last year. What we saw was a barren plain with the gnarled and twisted trees you expect to find in a flooded dam as the water recedes and what a million reports on Menindee Lakes have shown. On this visit the trees were still there but they were bare – not a bird in sight – and the water was long gone. The names out here are curious and conjure up images at odds with the harsh and desolate landscape that surrounds you. Sunset Strip conjures up images of the glitz and Glamour of Los Angles while the Silver City Highway makes you think of Las Vegas. But in Australia, the home of a thousand Breakfast Creeks, the naming conventions are much more practical. Sunset Strip is a strip of dwellings positioned to watch the sunset over the lake (when it is there) and the Silver City Highway leads to the region around Broken Hill and the aptly named Silverton where silver was discovered and mined.

Eventually we reached the town of Menindee – we drove into the National Park on a dirt road to read the info about where we were most likely to see water (and birdlife). We encountered another couple of skippys (kangaroos) along the way. As it turns out the unsealed roads that would get us to these areas were closed. We consulted the map and headed back to Menindee to another, more major, road to one of the lakes. Alas it was also closed so we decided to head back to Broken Hill, this time able to see the vast flat landscape roll by. We were greeted by an emu a few feet off the side of the road. Fortunately, he ran alongside us and then away. The light across the plain also allowed us to discover something else we had missed in the darkness – another E.L.K piece – an E.L.K stencil on an abandoned pink couch (possibly red when abandoned) sitting there on the vast red earth plain against a backdrop of the new green growth from the recent rains. I was aware Luke had done this but had no idea where along the route from Sydney to Broken Hill it could be found. So, it was a pleasant surprise that we came upon it.

Our dawn adventure over, we decided on a pit stop in town for breakfast before heading back to the hotel to chill out for a couple of hours. We had walked past the café in the Astra Hotel the previous morning so decided to give it a go. It wasn’t our best experience. Firstly, it seemed to be a hassle for them to serve us but eventually we got a seat and some menus. The food was edible but not spectacular. My breakfast wasn’t quite what I was expecting but that was largely my own fault – I saw the mushroom in Mushroom Ragu, not the ragu. So, when it showed up with mushrooms in a thick tomato sauce, it wasn’t quite what I was expecting. With such an early rise, a post-brekky snooze was the order of the day. I am not usually one for napping but even I was ready for some zzzs. [Ordinary World – Something for Kate – there is something synonymouse with the wall of sound that is Something for Kate and the Australian Outback. I am not sure why but the textures speak of wide open spaces (perhaps not as clearly as The Triffids…]

More than one person had recommended a visit to Bell’s Milk Bar lauded as a 50s style milk bar. It was and they largely nailed the retro vibe with Formica tables and chrome and vinyl chairs. There was also a lounge area come makeshift retro furniture museum out the back. The Milkbar makes its own syrups and the menu includes milkshakes, spiders and sodas.  While the online menu promises some light lunch options and desserts – Dan was really keen for apple pie – the only option available on the day we visited was waffles. I chose the peaches and cream waffles with peaches and custard syrup and a lime freeze spider. Dan had some waffles with chocolate syrup. Unfortunately, there were no peaches and while the custard syrup was ok it was really sweet as was the ice cream so a bit overpowering without the peaches. The spider was pretty good. The syrups were great and the milk bar itself had a definite cachet of cool but everything we ate could have benefited from better ice cream.   

Broken Hill is also endowed with a range of art galleries – apart from the Pro Hart gallery, and the plethora of outback caricatures, there is also a rich indigenous art culture. I’m not a huge fan of Pro Hart’s work (and always associate him with those 80s adds for carpet protection) so wasn’t really minded visiting a gallery filled entirely with his work. We both agreed the Broken Hill Art Gallery which boasted an exhibition of entrants of the Pro Hart art prize was the place to go so we headed back into the main part of town on what was by now a pretty hot day eager to wander around the art in the cool of the old sandstone building. Unfortunately, when we arrived it was closed due to a fire! We were reliably informed there was no substantial damage and none of the art was affected but we had to wait a few hours for the smoke to clear.

With no apple pie at the Milk Bar, Dan was still o a quest and we blindly followed a Google tip, moving further away from town with every step. Sweltering in the sun walking on a verge where the footpath had long since vanished, we came upon the bakery. It turns out it was an actual bakery – where bread was baked and dispatched in vans with no retail outlet in sight. We made a hot hasty retreat back to the shaded verandas of the main street, where, as luck would have it the gallery was open again once more. The gallery itself was a mixture of art from the region including, predictably some works by Pro Hart alongside a grab bag of other local artists some long gone and some local indigenous artists. The art prize exhibition was interesting though with an eclectic mix of works. As with all art some challenged the viewer, some were works that you could understand the skill but didn’t speak to you personally and one or two sparked something in you that if you could afford it you could wake up every day and enjoy. My favourite piece from this exhibition was a sculpture of a desert landscape. And no, I didn’t take it home. I did visit the gallery shop (I love an art gallery shop) and purchased a Christmas bauble made by a local indigenous collective and, randomly, a pair of Mondrian inspired socks. Wandering the gallery was a good way to spend an hour or so enjoying the cool inside the two-storey sandstone building.

After the gallery, we made a quick trip back to the miner’s memorial to purchase a necklace and earrings made by a local silversmith from local silver. Silver has long been my metal of choice for jewellery and collecting pieces when I travel to places known for their silver has been a habit since my first ring purchased in Bali. Surprisingly for a town built on silver mining, examples of local artisan jewellery were few and far between, save for the small collection at the miner’s museum. Purchase accomplished – thanks Dan – and we headed back to the hotel for some respite from the heat.

On our last night in Broken Hill, we decided we couldn’t go past Palace Hotel for dinner. The Palace Hotel is a Broken hill institution. Made famous for that scene in Priscilla Queen of the Desert where Guy Peirce’s character Felicia, in her full drag queen regalia takes one look at the floor to ceiling (including ceiling) murals in the hotel foyer and loudly proclaims “tack-o-rama”. Partial to a bit of kitsch culture, and the stranger and tackier the better I was geared up to see them in the flesh. And they didn’t disappoint. Rather than take offence at its treatment in the film, this outback town that prides itself on its big personality, selection of characters and embrace of the weird, if not wonderful has taken the idea and run with it. The owners of the Palace have taken the liberty of adorning nearly every wall (and other available surface) in similar murals and have embraced the connection with the ultimate drag queen movie hosting regular drag shows. And it doesn’t end there – there is also an annual drag queen festival in town. But back to the Palace hotel. We went around to the restaurant side and due to the COVID arrangements they asked us to wait in the bar for about 20 minutes until our table was ready. We gladly obliged and walked into the bar with its high ceiling allowing for more mural action. We grabbed a couple of drinks and sat down.  I didn’t stay that way for long and took the opportunity to wander into the hotel foyer to take in the full force of the murals. They really did paint everything you looked up at including the underside of the staircase. What no doubt started as an idea to recreate something akin to Michelangelo’s Sistine chapel extravaganza that turned into an obsession. [I’ve been to paradise – Charlene – this may not be the most popular or memorable of the songs from Priscilla but it is the epitome of the terrible music that filled the airwaves in the early 80s and while the revolutionary bands that were playing small clubs have gone on to be lauded, music such as this and anything by The Captain and Tenille is relegated to comedy and kitsch.  And by the way, what was it with mid-90s Australian films and ABBA? Australia’s film industry pretty much revived the careers of the biggest band to come out of Eurovision.]

Eventually we made our way around to the restaurant which offered a menu packed with upscale pub food.  Or the Broken Hill version of it. No avo or caramelised onion jam in sight but there was a lot of bushfood accompaniments. Dan went for his greatest hits starting with cheesy garlic bread, followed up with a porterhouse, chips and salad with bush pepper sauce. I decided to broaden my horizons albeit with a step back in time to the 70s ordering the mushroom and smoked cheese bruschetta, and a fillet mignon that came with mash, carrots, beans and bush pepper sauce. The bruschetta was tasty but basically a smoked cheese melt with mushroom. The steak was really good and while the bush pepper taste was a bit jarring at first, the slightly sweet yet hot flavour was a delight as I adjected to it. Pretty full – unsurprisingly these were quite large serves but having seen sticky date pudding on the menu and following Dan’s bitter disappointment in Hay, we thought we’d give it a go. Sadly, it didn’t stack up against the rest of the meal and the search for a good sticky date pudding continues on – perhaps we’ll find one in the backwaters of the UK if we’re ever allowed to leave the country.