Out at the Back of Bourke

Where the mulga paddocks are wild and wide
That's where the pick of the stockmen ride
Out at the back of Bourke!
Thus wrote Will Ogilvie, one of the lesser bush poets, in 1890, presumably giving rise to the now famous expression meaning a long way from anywhere. And it is. Even now.

I consulted Professor Google to see if Will is a relation but it appears he is not. He was born in Scotland and came to Australia in the late 1800s. Henry Lawson also spent time in Bourke as well as Albany so we now have that in common. I canoed the Darling the 7kms or so from Kidman's Camp in North Bourke where we stayed, down to the Bourke Wharf. As a West Australian I find it hard to get my head round a river that must be a thousand kilometres or more from the coast and is fresh, deep and has a discernible flow. Apart from the numerous Pelicans (again thousands of kms from the sea) and Major Mitchell cockies, I had it to myself. It would make a great trip to follow it down to the ocean but not this time.

At th bottom of the Bourke Wharf, which gives you some idea of how much higher the water can get.

From Bourke we headed down to Brewarrina, another of NSW's sad towns with little to recommend it apart from the ancient Aboriginal fish traps. It didn't look like it had ever amounted to much.

Walgett too is not much chop. The fact that its tourist literature makes much of the fact that it is Australia's chick pea capital is some indication of what it offers as a tourist destination, Sadly its in drought at the moment so not even the chick peas are providing much solace to the residents. We camped overnight at the Telleraga Rest Stop just west of Moree.

The Brewarrina Fish Traps. The Pelicans seem to think they were constructed for their benefit.

Moree is a place that deserves more recognition. All I knew about it was that it was infamous for having its swimming pool busted open for black kids by the Freedom Riders in 1965. Trish spotted an ad in the local paper for their Reconciliation Week Awards & Dinner and as we usually attend Albanys, we bought tickets. (When we travel we often try and attend community functions, quiz nights etc, because its a great way to get a feel for the community.) It was a great night. They've come a long way in 50 years

One of Moree's amazing Art Deco buildings. 

Moree is an attractive town. After a major fire in the 1920s, most of the central town was rebuilt with some amazing Art Deco and Arts & Crafts buildings. As a result the town equals Napier in NZ which is known worldwide for its Art Deco. I googled "art deco towns australia" but it didn't get a mention. Then I tried "Moree" and got an article from the Sydney Morning Herald describing it as the "crime capital of NSW" but you don't get that feeling from the town. It has none of the bars and shutters that a lot of the other towns do. Maybe that journo grew up here and has an axe to grind?Moree's friendly lady Mayor was at the Reconciliation Dinner and I told her how impressed we are.

Something else I didn't know about Moree is that it has artesian spa pools. There was one in the Mehi River Caravan Park which we took advantage of. The Park was on the river so I also went for a canoe there. Its a very pretty river with weeping willows, honeysuckle, some of the biggest castor oil plants I've seen and other deciduous trees turning red and orange, lining the banks. Ok so they're all weeds but it was purty. The overstory is still river gums with Sulphur Crested Cockatoos which means it still has a bush feel.

Moree's Imperial Hotel which appears to give Cobar's Great Western a run for its money in the iron lace stakes.

The Mehi River appears to be an anabranch of the larger Gwydir, which as far as I can see flows into the Barwon, which flows into the Darling, which of course eventually flows into the Murray. I can't believe how big this river system is!

Canoeing the Mehi River. Note pretty weeds - none of them blackberries!

I understand now too why a lot of eastern states visitors to Albany comment on how windy it is. Living in Albany I only think its windy if its blowing a gale but there is always some background wind. I've noticed on my canoe jaunts here that often there is a complete absence of wind. Incredibly peaceful.

A Bloody Big Country

Coming out of Broken Hill it's desert scrub country. As I drive through it I am eternally grateful for the motor car. It seems that you just drive and drive and drive and I can't help but think of people like Edward and others who made their way across it on foot, horseback, by camel or bullock train. Not only were they faced with slowly trekking mile after mile but they did so without the insulation a car gives you from weather extremes, insects and dust.

Somewhere along the road from Broken Hill to Cobar, I can't remember where, a local installation artist or artists has constructed a TV tree, a hard hat tree, a bra tree, a barbie doll tree and several other trees festooned with such objects. For several kilometres it breaks the monotony. Thanks guys.

Wilcannia lives up to it's reputation as one of the sad towns of outback NSW. It's sandstone public buildings speak of better days when it was at one point the 3rd largest port on tonnages shipped in Australia. Now everything that isn't closed and abandoned, has barred and shuttered windows and there is an air of lethargy about the whole town. The only sign of life was the local Indigenous Radio Station which was blasting out country music to the main street. Out front were two smiling local trannies and despite it being a radio station I don't mean old fashioned portable radios.

I called into the Police Station to check if the road up the Darling to Bourke was sealed. The Station, in one of those fine old sandstone buildings, has a formidable modern steel mesh door and I got the impression it was not designed so much to keep prisoners in, as to keep seriously disgruntled clients out. In the station I asked a receptionist about the road and she had just responded in the negative when a policeman popped his head out of a back office. He looked and sounded like a bogan who had decided to steal a police uniform and wear it as a dare but as he was inside an actual police station I assumed he was an actual policeman.

"Whadda yeh drivin", he asked. I replied that it was a Suzuki Vitara which would be fine but I was more worried about what I was towing which didn't have much clearance and isn't really designed for off road. "We went up to Tilpa this mornin'. Sat on 110 most of the way with no probs." I was thinking "yeah in a top of the range Landcruiser that you don't pay the maintainence on" but I refrained from saying it. The receptionist helpfully pointed out that was only half way and it might be worse further up.

"Much corrugations", I asked. "A bit. But if yeh hug the west side of the road yer pretty right." Now I'm not averse to using the technique of driving on the wrong side of isolated dirt roads if the surface is better but I was surprised to hear a policeman advocate it to a member of the public. I got the distinct impression he was challenging me, the presumed city slicker, to man up and get off the seal for a while. I guess Constable Bogan skipped class the day the Police Academy covered "Promoting Road Safety to Members of the Public". Anyway I thanked them for their help and decided to take the sealed road to Cobar and thus to Bourke.

Cobar's Great Western Hotel with what  they proudly assert is the longest stretch of cast iron lace in the Southern Hemisphere.

As we procededed east the vegetation got higher and turned from desert to Mulga scrub. I think I mentioned goats previously and there are millions out there. They keep the scrub neatly pruned so you can see blue horizon both below and above the trees. Apparently they are sort of feral, sort of owned and they do get trapped and sold for a good price.

Gundabooka National Park just south of  Bourke.

We camped a night at the Meadow Glen Rest Area and then went from Cobar, a copper mining town, up through Gundabooka National Park where we camped on the banks of the Darling River. We did end up doing nearly 100kms of dirt road through the park and the Suzi and Avan both acquitted themselves well. Despite some significant corrugations nothing came apart except 2 eggs in a carton in the fridge and virtually no dust got inside. It was worth it because the Park has some fine Original Australian artworks and a nice campsite.

Matilda views what she declares is some fine rock art.

A Desert Coincidence

Went out to Silverton, a mining ghost town 20kms from Broken Hill and home of Mad Max, Pricilla and numerous beer commercials, yesterday and found ourselves parked next to another Suzuki with Albany plates. Ok that's not a huge coincidence but the driver turned out to be Julian Hough who works for Amity Suzuki and sold our car new to it's last owner! That's a coincidence.

Who'd of thunk it? 2 Albany Suzukis.

Silverton Jail

Visited Silverton Jail Museum cos I collect Jail Museums. Have been to them all round the country. I guess it says something about our convict past that we have so many. Maybe my next project should be a guide to Jail Museums of Australia. This one's a real hodgepodge collection of stuff from  Silverton, Broken Hill and surrounds but that detracts from its function as a jail museum I think. Silverton itself is cute but I reckon it's not a patch on Gwalia near Leonora as far as mining ghost towns go.

Matilda, Queen of the desert, visits the Mundi Mundi Plains, one of Australia's largest flat lands just out of Silverton. Does that road in the background look familiar Mad Max fans?

Broken Hill is very like Kalgoorlie. A huge slag heap in the centre of town, old tin miner's huts cheek by jowl with grand mansions of those who got lucky, a pub on every corner but with many of them no longer pubs and some grand public buildings. However, Broken Hiĺl now has art in a big way with numerous art galleries, the most famous being Pro Hart's. Visited there cos I am a fan of his work.

It also has a proud Labor History, being the first town in the world to elect a Labor Mayor (with the fine name of Jabez Wright - remember that for your next quiz night) and the first Trades Hall in the southern hemisphere. The locals were vehemently against Australia entering WWI as they saw it as being a battle  for capitalist interests and not something honest working men should die for (good on you lads - wish you were still with us) and consequently the town was a major centre of opposition in the conscription referendums. Looking at the local pollies offices now though, it seems there are more Libs and Nats here these days. Perhaps that's appropriate given that I've often said the Nats are the only remaining Socialist party  (discounting Mr  Katter that is). If only they could accept that you have to socialise your profits as well as your losses!

This glorious pile is Broken Hill's Trades Hall.

Are We Closet Train Buffs?

The tyre turned up at last and we're off again. Bad news too was that the wheel in question is slightly out of alignment and can't be adjusted but if we rotate the tyres every 10,000km, which isn't so bad, that should be ok.

We headed up Horrocks Pass out of Port Augusta to Wilmington which has a puppet museum run by Brian who appears to be turning into a puppet himself. Well he has a face and haircut that was reminiscent of most of his ventriloquist dummies but tact prevented me from pointing that out to him. From Wilmington on, we are travelling in what is to us virgin territory. The route we had traveled so far was the one we took when we came over in 2003 for Erica's 50th birthday just when she was first diagnosed with cancer but now we were into new country.

Up and over the Flinders Ranges it is pretty country. Smooth green rolling hills although I suspect that much of the time they are more brown than green. They have recently had some unusually heavy falls of rain which has brought on the green which makes it lovely for us.

We stopped at Orroroo for lunch. It would've been worth it for the name alone but they have a lovely walk along a spring fed creek gorge which has some Aboriginal rock carvings in one spot and then further on an outrageously sentimental poem, full of o'ers and ere's, also carved into the rock, in 1896 by a young man who was about to go to America to make his fortune with a chainless bicycle he had invented! You couldn't make this stuff up.

We spent the night in Peterborough, once the central point of Australia's north-south and east-west railways and a meeting point for the country's three different rail guages. Their old railway yards and roundhouse is now Steamtown, a railway museum which has a nightly Sound & Light Show with a one hour video of the history of railways in this region. So having rode the Pichi Richi steam train we now had the Steamtown experience. I'm now full bottle on the difference between T and Y type trains and of course familiar with the Garrett engines. However, I think that is sufficient so I shall refrain from visiting any more rail museums etc for a while.

Matilda declares that she is a train buff too.

Peterborough also has a motor cycle museum in the old Baptist Church which I visited as well. No Ducatis but a very nice 1977 Laverda Jota which was the owners first bike. Lucky him.

The town also has some of the cheapest real estate in the country. The "Institute" which served as the original town hall and is a two story building about the size of Albany's Town Hall and has been restored as a private residence for some time, is currently for sale for $278,000. It looks in good nick too but sadly I don't think Peterborough is really the place for me despite that bargain price.

Peterborough Town Hall has a large quilt on display made for the centenary of Federation ànd depicting all the significant  buildings in town. I could see Trish's mind working and suspect Albany might end up with one similar. 

Out of Peterborough the hills stop rolling and turn into wide open saltbush plains with the occasional low range in the distance. It's still pretty green but with tinges of brown, Goats seem to be the livestock of choice in these parts with the occasional sheep. Fat and healthy looking goats they are too. After about 300kms of these goat filled plains and we have arrived in Broken Hill.

Twice as Long as Flinders in Port Augusta.

By the time we leave Port Augusta, we will have spent twice as long here as Mathew Flinders did when he visited in The Investigator in 1802 and yet nothing will be named after us. Flinders was here for 3 days and we will have spent 6. In those 3 days some of his party managed to walk to the top of Mt Brown, the highest peak in this part of the Flinders Ranges (named after his botanist Robert Brown), 24 kms away. I guess he deserved to get his name on it after that effort. We were going to stop for 4 days but tyre trouble, thanks to a poor wheel alignment has seen that extended.

Mt  Brown is the Pointy one in the middle. The view from Shoreline Caravan Park.

When we were at Pildappa Rock I luckily noticed that one of our rear tyres was starting to come adrift but spotted it before it blew. When we arrived in Port Augusta we discovered it is a very rare tyre. The blokes at every tyre place in town shook their heads in collective bewilderment at what would possess anyone to use a tyre of that size (225 60R18 for the tyre enthusiasts amongst you) and it turned out there are none in South Australia so our replacement has to come from Melbourne. Since discovering that I have checked every Suzuki Vitara I've seen and most seem to have the same tyres. Since Vitaras are not uncommon I can only assume they are very good tyres and don't need replacing too often. Hope so anyway.

The upside is that we have easily filled our time here. We booked into the Shoreline Caravan Park, on the shore as the name suggests and we visited the Dry Land Botanical Garden where the cafe serves delicious bush food themed fare (think quangdong jam etc). We've taken several bike rides round town and rode the Pichi Richi steam train up to Quorn. Today I paddled up to the head of Spencer Gulf where Flinders ascertained that it was not an entry to the Inland Sea. I can confirm that.

Quorn Railway Station bathed in sunlight. 

On Sunday, there was a Bargain Bonanza type flea market in town so Trish took a stall to try and sell some of her Uthando Dolls and felt art. I went to the Wadlata Interpretive Centre which takes a good 3 hours to see everything. An informative video presentation claimed that some of earths most primitive life forms began right here in Port Augusta and looking around at the patrons of the flea market, it seems that some are still here to this very day. Topped off a great day by watching the unbeaten Dockers stay that way in a game against the Bulldogs.

Finally, if anyone is actually reading this blog (and the page view counter suggests you are) feel free to add comments at the bottom of the posts so I know you are there. Just play around with the buttons there and you'll work out how to do it. If you post as Anon, perhaps put your name in the body of the comment so I know who it is. Be nice to communicate.

Which Child Sniggered When I Said Iron Knob? All Of Us Sir.

Largely due to it's mirth inducing name, one thing that's fixed in my memory of primary school social studies, is the role Iron Knob played in the development of Australia's iron ore industry. It would be tempting to say that Iron Knob has seen better days, but I got the sense that perhaps it hasn't. It doesn't have any of the magnificent but run down public buildings that you see in other old mining towns. I suspect it has always been a little tired, dusty and faded. Perhaps iron never had the glamour of gold?

Never-the-less, the Iron Knob Visitor Centre, located in the dusty old former single men's mess, will also remain in my memory because it was the first we visited that invited us to make a cuppa and sample the contents of a traditional  bikkie tin while we sat down to enjoy a 6 minute DVD on the town's history. Our hosts were two sweet old beanie wearing souls who were furiously knitting the next beanie, presumably as a replacement in case the current one wore out from over use. It seemed churlish to refuse such a generous offer. The DVD was well made and perhaps it's most memorable fact was that in the days when iron ore was loaded by shovel, the daily record was 70 tons! Tough in them days.

It's interesting to note that in South Australia, they refer to Ceduna and parts west of there as "the Far West". Not sure what they think West Australia is then. The Far West is similar to our "Up North" with dry, flat landscapes and occasional worn down ranges. Original Australians still sit under the trees and talk to each other in their own language and galahs and correllas flock around everywhere.

Old Paney Homestead in the Gawler Ranges.

Policman's Point in the Gawler Ranges.

Matilda at Uluhru - Sorry Pildappa Rock.

After Ceduna, our first nights stop was at Pildappa Rock, a campsite in the foothills of the Gawler Ranges. It's a slightly smaller version of Wave Rock and from some angles could be a miniature Uluhru. It's a credit to the Wudina Shire Progress Association who keep it immaculately clean. It's got a toilet and a free BBQ too. We left the van there while we took a day trip up into the Gawler Ranges which is just like the Pilbara but without the heat (although I guess the Pilbara can be cool in winter too).

From there we went on to Kimba which bills itself as the halfway point across Australia. It also has a Big Galah! Other towns looking for tourists could learn a lesson from Kimba which positively welcomes you, There is a free (donations invited & impossible to refuse in the circumstances) camp area behind the footy club with a lovely $1 shower. Each evening by 5pm it is full of vans. They also have a well signposted town heritage walk and a bushwalk up to Whites Knob (the South Australian's are very keen on knobs) where there is an impressive modernist sculpture of Eyre and his "native tracker". We spent 2 nights there and at the pub were accosted by a frugal lady from Warnbro who had an onion in her handbag that she was determined to give away, rather than have it go to waste in the quarantine bin. We accommodated her.

Matilda  meets The Big Galah

At Kimba too, in the dirt in front of the Halfway Across Australia sign, Trish picked up a 1950 thruppence. We googled its value to see if it would pay for our holiday. Apparently in mint uncirculated condition it could be worth up to $22. A circulated specimen might fetch from $1-5. Ours had clearly been circulated, recirculated, buried, dug up, walked on, pissed on and circulated again so I suspect it will be at the lower end of the range.

Trish & Matilda at the site of their 1950 thruppence find.

Eucla Line Opened. Hurrah

In 1877 when the Eucla Telegraph Station made it's first transmission with those words, it was an Australian technology centre. With c100 staff it was the biggest telegraph station outside the major cities. Now it doesn't even have mobile reception! No reception from Norseman to Ceduna as far as I could tell.

The Nullarbor crossing is something every Australian should do in their lifetime although I wouldn't recommend doing it too often. We did come across an old couple who have done it at least once a year for the past 30 or so years. Their 1987 Nissan Urvan camper had backfired a couple of times on the road between the border and Madura and then died. We stopped to see if they needed help. Luckily there were road works a couple of hundred metres up the road so while Pa went up to see what assistance they could provide, we stayed to keep Ma company. A generous assessment put them in their late 70's but my guess is they were well into their 80's so when I asked them what the purpose of their travel was and Ma began by saying that Pa made the crossing to visit his dad, I thought God 'elp us. How old is dad? She then went on to explain that dad died in 1997 but they continue to do the trip between two properties they own, one in Kelleberrin and one in Victoria. 

An amiable young road worker, who seemed glad of the diversion, volunteered that his off-sider was a truck mechanic and he'd have a look at the van during smoko. Given they were in safe hands, we said we'd be on our way and Trish gave them each a Time Out bar to keep them going. The road worker declined his but Ma declared that she would have two and did a little jig to demonstrate just how much she likes chocolate. The little Aussie battler lives on.

Incidentally, if Mr Hockey and Mr Abbott are worried about the plight of the pensioner, they could reassure themselves by taking a roadtrip across the Nullarbor. There is an endless stream of grey nomads and most of them are travelling in rigs that would cost upwards of $100k. Put our little A'van to shame. Clearly they are also happy (well willing) to pay up to $1.88 a litre and are probably using about 18 to 20 litres/hundred kms. They all looked older than me and I'm guessing there were plenty of pension cards on board so while I appreciate that there are battlers (in 1987 Urvans), there is plenty of fat in the system. 

In Norseman, we were sitting in a park having lunch when a Rolls Royce went past. Just as I suggested to Trish that some local obviously had a claim that was paying well, another one went past in the other direction. Then a few minutes later, down a cross street in the distance I could see what looked like another. Is Norseman the undeclared home of Australia's mega-rich I thought? Then when we pulled into the roadhouse for fuel, another one pulled up so I asked the driver what was going on. A Roller Round Australia rally apparently and then we were leap frogged by a variety of Rolls and Bentley's all the way across. Almost all of them seemed to be driven by one old fella with a lady in the front and another in the back. I suggested to Trish that if you own a Rolls Royce you can tell your wife you are taking your mistress too and to hell with what she thinks but Trish felt it was more to do with age demographics. Who knows?

Also in Norseman, Trish had been excited to visit their Doll Museum that had been touted in the tourist information that she picked up in Esperance. When we got there it was closed and had no opening times showing. Trish asked the young lady in the Visitor Centre when it was open and she said it had closed about 18 months ago. Time passes slowly in Norseman. 

Our first nights camp at the Woorlbi Rest Area, we pulled up our camp chairs at a fire lit by another travelling couple only to discover that not only were they also from Albany, it was Jordan's Grade 1 teacher Mrs Deegan and her husband. 

It's bloody cold at 7am on the Nullarbor. Can we claim to have cycled the Nullarbor on the basis of riding a couple of k's down from our overnight camp to admire the view?

No problems on the way over. Everything traveled well and I'm much more relaxed with towing now. Had two pleasant nights camping by the roadside and we are now back in civilization at the Ceduna Foreshore Caravan Park. Even got to watch the Dockers trounce Essendon at the pub next door last night. I think this could be the year! Might even be in Melbourne at Grand Final time. 

Leaving the Beautiful South Coast

Last stop before the Nullabor is Esperance. We travelled here via Hopetoun; a pretty place, pretty dead that is. Sorry Hopetoun, you are pretty but there seem to be a lot of empty buildings. A casualty of the mining downgrade I guess.

Fitzgerald River National Park will live on in my memory as the place I got my first official "Senior's" discount. I got my card a week or so ago and a day pass to the park was half price ($6) for vehicles with a Senior driving! I've waited 60 years for this although I think Trish was possibly more excited than me. She loves a bargain.

Had a vigourous storm at Tozer's bush camp out of Bremmer on Sunday night. Tested the van because at times it felt like some of the wind gusts had the potential to blow it over, but clearly it didn't or I wouldn't be writing this so cheerfully. Tozer's is an interesting place. A caravan park carved out of the middle of a farm about 20kms out of Bremmer. The owner "Toz" lives in town but comes out everyday and seems to enjoy having a beer & a chat with his customers. A middle aged typical windswept farmer Toz had a vision that if he built it they would come, and with some limitations it seems they do. There was only one other couple there with us, but Toz reckons he's had over 100 a night in the high season (New Year).

The camp has a large, central, fully equipped kitchen cum rec room, with a TV and internet connectivity. Fantastic showers of substantial size and all the hooks for clothes and towels you could ask for. Hooks are very important in an ablution block. One for dirty clothes, one for fresh clothes, one for the towel. Yes, you need hooks. Top spot.

In Esperance we are camped on the verge at Georgie & Dennis's place. They are leaving tomorrow as Georgie has a job in the Tennant Creek prison but they have been fabulously hospitable in the midst of their packing. I have put my back out somehow, possibly all the driving or just a bad bit of bending. If I sit down, when I stand up I walk like an old man for the next five minutes & then it seems to straighten out. Georgie recommended a Chinese massage place that she uses in town so I went & gave them a try. (I've often mused on who uses these ubiquitous places, well now I know.) Ethel, a petite Chinese lass of surprising strength pounded my back for half an hour and when I got up it felt worse than when I went in. After a short walk that passed and now I've been sitting in Esperance Dome for an hour or so and it feels fine. Something in it after all.

An Albany Work of Art Views an Esperance Work of Art!

Ok, bring on the Nullabor.

On The Road At Last.

We're  off and racing. Well  not really racing. In fact we'll be travelling quite sedately.

When Edward set off on his journey, a number of servants and what he called dark children of the forest, gathered to see him off. He was taking some horses to sell in Sydney so he had two stockmen with him, one European and one Australian (I think I will adopt the policy used in Dancing with Strangers , the excellent history of first contact at Sydney and refer to whitefellas as European and blackfellas as Australians) but he also had a couple of other European stockmen ride along with him for the first little bit.

I don't have servants, let alone dark  children of the forest, but we did have Paul, Carol and John, canoeing friends, with us for the first night. We all camped at Miller's Point, a bush  campsite on the Pallinup Estuary, about 130kms east of Albany. A beautiful spot and probably not much changed since Edwards time; if you discount the road in, pit toilets, assorted moored tinnies and ramshackle shacks.

Our first campsite!

When Edward sailed past here in 1854, the Pallinup Estuary would've still been pretty well untouched by Europeans. It fell into the Goreng branch of the Noongar peoples land,  just outside the territory of Albany's Menang people. George Cheyne had taken up land at Cape Riche about 30kms to the West in 1836, that land being taken over by the Moir's, who had started work on the homestead that still exists there, by the 1850's. John Septimus Roe, who managed to cover most of the Southwest, named Boat Harbour, just over the Estuary in 1848 and of course those intrepid trans-continental explorers, Wylie and Eyre, crossed the Pallinup in July 1842. Eyre's journal records that they came to a wide rivèr that they couldn't get across. They went upstream for 8 miles till they came to a rock bar that allowed them to cross. A day or so later, Wylie, a Menang man, started to recognise territory that they were passing through.

Paul and I paddled 14kms upstream  and sure enough came to that  same rock bar!