First travel for such a long time, approaching it fresh.
Ancient Landscapes and Sacred Sites: an Archaeological Exploration of Far Western NSW, that was the name of the tour I joined after 4 days solo in Broken Hill.
Overwhelming high, 12 hour train ride across New South Wales – green, brown, red, dry, wet, animals feral and farm, birds high, blue sky. There was a lot of no where out there, but it is somewhere for someones, not sighted.
Broken Hill, a low. Depressing – sad or dead, I kept asking?
Three ‘industries’: mining, 600 people down in the earth; art and tourism largely closed with few visitors; health, innumerable storefronts for Aboriginal, mental and general health care. Plenty of money invested. No sign of patients, use. A few derelicts, but hundreds of shiny new cars- government subsidy, 2 new car sales lots.
Walking to dinner, I was the only person on the street, 2 cars passed. Same walking back. Food mediocre or less, with one fanciest priciest busy deli. Learned more than I wanted about mining.
Better the visit to Silverton where it all began, a sort of revived ghost town with charm and a museum- the old jail- filled to the brim with everything you could never have thought of.
Higher- the Synagogue beautifully preserved in tact, and the mosque, simpler, overseen by Living Treasure Bobby, descendant of original cameleers.
There used to be three bookstores, still listed on G maps, now there is one. A Sufi bookstore, and a Sufi bakery, real sourdough (not to be found in restaurants or cafes.)
Three Op shops on the main street, the Salvos and Lifeline immaculate and spacious.
Very high- visit to the Royal Flying Doctor Service. Museum, film, woman explaining the history, thoroughly if a bit by rote. Better the hangar, left as re-painted for the Ch. 7 TV series RFDS which brought and continues to bring RFDS serious revenue (just turn it on and go read a book- every viewing counts for them!) Several old planes, insides and out, and inspiring talk by a flight nurse, 6ft 2 handsome hunk, gentle. A store with the ubiquitous logo. Every penny spent there and donated goes to the operation itself not to salaries and management.
Highs- everything Aboriginal. The gallery whose owner carves leopard and other rare woods- who knew?
The Living Desert, 12 huge hard sandstone sculptures, done by people from around the world including Mark’s Uncle Badger. On a high hill overlooking everywhere. Welcome to country by Aunty Miriam, unlike any other welcomes, from an ancient heart of hearts. We were welcomed, and into the driving wind and overcast skies, no need for an advertised sunset, we had it all. Even wine and blown away crackers and cheese.
Mutawinji National Park, owned now and operated by people, whose land it is, including Mark’s, with ancient sacred sites, art and rock engravings, and serious conservation intelligently underway. Native lemon grass, a flavour to die for.
Being led by a man whose people have been right there for more years than we can imagine, yes. Makes a difference. Respect. Profound connection. And those rocks, rocky outcrops, even without the stories, are magical, sacred in themselves, for good reasons we cannot know.
Menindee Lakes, full up. Our bus bogged in undiscerned soft sand, another adventure, The kindness of strangers with shovels and towing straps. Rescue by local Fireies with a bigger engine and stronger tow rope.
Our driver and local Aboriginal leader, Mark, filled with information and stories and jokes and history and local connection, articulate and funny. Smart.
Our tour leader, Alex, easy going and organised and knowledgable and – for me- the best real conversations about his work as historian on Sikkim and Tibet and and and..
An intelligent interesting group on tour, several using real cameras, but the inevitable- –
Biggest low- long dinners (with local ordinary food) sit down at 7 pm at table of 18 and leave at 11. Talk among the 4 nearby, never becomes ‘real’ conversation. With a large group everyone has different preferences, not all coinciding. Give and take. Or put up with. I was often able to leave early and walk home (on that empty street) except the last night, we came by bus. Trapped til 11. (Too long living alone, eating what and when I like?)
Biggest of all lows, missing Mungo Park, the highlight of the tour. Wet. Roads. Get in and don’t get out.
The only Covid effects were less good service, under staffed or undertrained. Easy to understand and forgive. Fewer people, closed stores, as expected.
The last night treat, dinner at Stefano de Pieri’s restaurant in Mildura. His food has been well known for many years, the restaurant was fully booked in advance- we got lucky! The food was almost as good as promised, the service even better. The surprise was the wine. Turns out he has always wanted to be a wine maker and now he is. Experimenting with small batches of different mostly Italian grapes making unusual wines, a big list and growing. Worth further exploration, and an empty suitcase.
What feels really different is me. More patient, relaxed, even in the face of the lows. And I seem to hear and understand and feel things on different levels, more complex, subtle.
It is one thing to learn the history of the mine over 150 years and look at the old rotting machinery and the detritus left where it lay, as the then owners BHP pulled out before any remediation plans were in place, and they have no obligation now.
It is another to think of the 600 men underground digging up ore depending on the economic moment- it falls, they stop; it rises, they dig. The working mine is now owned by companies, half of them Japanese, half Chinese. Different levels, like that.
Thanks for your overview of the trip. It’s good to hear about it, but it definitely had its ups and downs. Maybe a littler more down than up!
You mention the Sufi bookshop – worth remembering the role of the Afghans in the area, and the long history of Islam, easily forgotten.
My friends who lived in Broken Hill loved it. One raised donkeys!
I mentioned the mosque, but the history dwindling, as Bobby’s faded photos will soon be all that is left.
Packed with impressions! Looks like this trip will fuel more writing. Thanks for the armchair travel.
now intrigued by history of afghanis in this (unknown to me) area. I admire your ability to squeeze the best out of every journey.