A knock at the door at about 6am (but we have gone half an hour back), announces that we will get into Broken Hill in about 40 minutes. An opportunity to stretch legs, visit the miners memorial and work up an appetite for breakfast. Unfortunately, a delay in the middle of the night at Bathurst, has left us reduced time in Broken Hill and the miners memorial can only be viewed from down in the valley. The “tour” actually had two parts, first an re-enactment of a union meeting from the early 20th century, sand second the memorial. Having discovered there wasn’t enough time for the memorial, we skipped the “meeting” and just wandered the virtually deserted streets - rush hour in Broken Hill! Talking to other passengers later, I am at a loss to understand why they didn’t cancel the meeting and go to the memorial, as that was clearly what everyone wanted to see. As it happens we saw it 15 years ago and remember it to be a moving and peaceful place - shame we didn’t et to re-visit, but we wandered the streets, somewhat aimlessly, until we happened upon the Chinese/Italian (yes really!) at which we ate pizza at 1am 15 years ago as the torrential rain fell - the first rain Broken Hill had seen in 4 years. Children were playing out in the street, despite it being the middle of the night, as rain was (and still is) such a rare event, it is not to be missed - whatever time it is. The next morning kids could be seen rolling around in mud, having the time of their lives. Bit like a “snow day” back home! I think school might have been cancelled - for rain! I could coin a new phrase - “rain started play!”
Broken Hill is a mining town; Silver, Lead and Zinc. The streets are all named after minerals; Argent Street is the main road, Bromide Street, Iodide Street…The evidence is all around. But so is the evidence of decline, empty shops, presumably reflecting the falling price of menials, on which the strength of the Australian economy is based.
A walk around Broken Hill was a trip down memory lane. And one of the things we remembered was the light - such beautiful light for painting and photography. We didn’t have the time on this occasion but a trip out to Silverton, just outside Broken Hill is very much worth the time, a kind of artists’ colony out in the desert. And a superb sculpture park, which frustratingly is part of the Indian Pacific itinerary in the summer, but not the winter! We still have a piece of art bought in Silverton last time we visited - glad we did.
The afternoon offered a visit to the Barossa Valley, 60km outside Adelaide, to sample the wine, eat (yet again) before a transfer into the city to pick up the train again. Having already been in Adelaide (2 months ago - was it really that long ago!), this was great option as we had not had the opportunity to visit a winery the first time round. So our respective fathers will be the beneficiaries of a couple of decent reds.
We rejoined the train in time for some snoring juice…and then hit the sack, for another rocking and rolling night, as we headed out to the Nullabor and the longest stretch of straight railway in the world.