BROKEN HILL, SILVERTON & COPI HOLLOW (MENINDEE)

Sunday morning we departed White Cliffs, me leading with the van and Brian following in his BT50. We had to backtrack to Wilcannia then go west to Broken Hill, a total distance of 263km. Some 15 minutes into the trip we were hit by torrential rain which made for shitful driving conditions. To make matters worse dozens of big, fat stumpy tail lizards had positioned themselves at regular intervals along the bitumen, presumably to get warm.  I couldn't bear the thought of hitting one and swerving was a really bad idea so I simply slowed down. I did have to straddle a couple and hope to God they would stay still while four wheels passed either side. I'm pretty sure I missed them all, though I'm not convinced Brian was so lucky. I refrained from asking.

The rain had stopped by the time we reached Broken Hill. I'd only ever visited the place once before, a group of us flying in for a short stop and to refuel back in the mid nineties. I didn't really get into the city itself then, and was surprised to see a massive mullock heap virtually nestled right beside the main street. The city seems to have grown around the Line of Lode mine. It was a huge contrast to see the silver mine operating within a bull's roar of some stunningly beautiful historic old buildings.

We made our way to Broken Hill Regional Events Centre & Racecourse, a recommendation that came from Kaye, a solo traveler we had met a couple of days prior in the Underground Motel. It was a few kilometers from the town centre but offered huge grassy sites that backed onto the track railing and views over the rolling red hills rising out of the eastern horizon. $25 per night gave us power and water. We paid for two nights.

Broken Hill was declared Australia's first heritage-listed city in 2015. It was established by BHP in the late 1800's because of its deposits of silver, lead and zinc. Mining is still the main industry but a progressive, thriving art scene lead by Pro Hart (who earned a living as a miner before turning professional artist) now delivers over 30 galleries and open air sculptures. Visually it is an amazing city. Set amid rolling hills surrounded by flat, red plains that extend as far as the eye can see, it has wide streets, beautiful old architecture and, of course, the huge mountain of mine tailings that towers over the city centre. It was easy to fill our days taking everything in - art galleries, desert sculptures, Flying Doctor, the clubs, the views from atop the many lookouts, mines, the miner's memorial (which pays tribute to more than 800 lives lost due to mining) and drives in and around this iconic gateway to the outback.

Silverton, a 20 minute drive out of Broken Hill, is a well preserved historic old village, where silver was first discovered in 1883. It's a quirky place with a population of less than 60 that has been put on the global map not only because of its history and the fabulous country pub, but because of the movie and TV filming that  has been done in and around the town. Mad Max 2, A Town Like Alice, Wake in Fright and Last Cab to Darwin to name a few as well as several commercials have been produced locally. There is also a fantastic historical museum that has been set up in the old jail, the Mad Max museum and a few art galleries.

Before departing Tuesday we did the Living Desert Sculptures, the Pro Hart Gallery and we paid a visit to the Flying Doctor Visitor Experience.

I'd never heard of Copi Hollow until I got into conversation with Shell and Muzz, a couple of caravanners who camped beside us at Wilcannia. I mentioned I was planning to visit the (empty) Menindee Lakes, which prompted them to tell me that one of the lakes, Copi Hollow, still had water and was an amazing spot. And then a few days later when I met Kaye at White Cliffs, she also recommended it. Just 13 km out of the town of Menindee, it was less than 100 km east of Broken Hill.

We arrived late afternoon and set up on the grassed camping area beside the lake, which did indeed have plenty of water in it. We were the only ones there. The sign on the caretaker's window had instructed us to pick a spot and enjoy the space - they would come to us. Sure enough, a couple of hours later a tinny appeared from across the lake and pulled into shore in front of us. Drew and Amanda gave us a warm welcome as did their pup Orgi, and handed us a key to the facilities. As the sun went down I lit a fire and we kicked back and enjoyed the beautiful evening.

Brian had to head back to Yarrawonga on Friday. I decided I would spend a day or two longer given it was such a lovely spot, James was in doggy heaven, Drew and Amanda were fabulous hosts and it was pizza night on Friday. Brian might have to miss out but not me! We paid for 4 nights ($30/night with power). That would allow two full days to explore the Menindee Lakes area in the BT before Brian left.

Menindee Lakes had been on my bucket list since day one. When the lakes and the Darling river have water in them it's apparently one of the most picturesque areas in the Outback. Sadly drought and water mismanagement mean they are all empty (bar Copi which is man made). Nevertheless, there is plenty to see. Kinchega National Park is on Menindee's doorstep and aside from driving the tracks following the banks of the Darling, it also has a rich pastoral history.

The Old Kinchega Homestead and the Woolshed where six million sheep were shorn over the course of 97 years is a highlight. There's little left of the homesteads 1870's structure, but the woolshed, built in 1875, stands pretty much as it did decades ago when operations ceased. It's amazing.

There are many, many truly beautiful free camping options in and around the Darling and the lakes. Huge Red Gums provide heaps of shade along the river and toilet blocks are dotted through the camp areas. Even in the dry, the wildlife is plentiful, particularly the emu's that are clearly breeding well (we saw a family with half a dozen or so chicks).  If the Darling ever flows again and when the lakes do fill up I will definitely be back to experience this amazing environment in a different phase.

By Thursday night Copi was much busier. Around us were several other caravans so I took my fire pit over to the camp kitchen, lit a big fire with the wood Brian and I had gathered that day and invited the others to join us. It was handy to talk to the other travelers, particularly given Brian was planning to travel on 100 km of dirt road that had just been reopened after heavy rain, and a couple of them had come in from that direction. Apparently it had some rough sections but was definitely drivable. It never ceases to amaze me how quickly friendships are forged in this nomad world. Maybe because we can't connect with friends and family as we do at home we reach out and open up to others who are sharing many of the same adventures and experiences. Once again it was sad to see Brian go, and it was a relief to get his calls to say he had made it safely to the bitumen and later in the day, home to Yarrawonga.

Friday it literally blew a gale, the gusts at times reaching 70 kph. That, of course, meant dust storms. Drew dropped by to let me know the pizza night was off because of the wind. Two blokes who arrived earlier in the day and put their van beside mine popped over to say gidday, having, I suspect, eyed off my woodpile. "Are you going to have a fire"? Well, while it was still blowing and bloody cold, my pyromaniac tendencies require very little encouragement. I did opt for the half 44 gallon drum at the site instead of my shallow fire dish hoping for some protection from the wind. There was, I'm delighted to say, some reciprocation. First, seeing me crawl under my van in an attempt to locate the non-return valve which had failed and meant l couldn't take in water from the tap, they took over and found it. Not that they could fix it, but at least I know how to get to it. Second, they shared their huge rib eye fillets with me, even cooking my dinner. Yay! There ended up being five of us around the fire after dinner. Most enjoyable.

The weekend at Copi Hollow proved to be significantly busier. There are 116 permanent onsite vans/sheds at the caravan park. Home to the Broken Hill Speedboat Club Inc, the founders of which commenced the transformation of the semi-arid basin into a deep lake with park facilities in 1961, many of the members spend their leisure time at Copi. Saturday night the pizzas were on. Drew stoked up the big fire pit in front of the camp kitchen, Amanda had made pizza bases and had all the ingredients laid out ready to load, and with the wood-fired pizza oven (made by Drew) up to temperature the team cooked dozens of delicious pizzas. For $18 we all designed our own pizza and had a great night eating, listening to music and enjoying the fire and the company. What a great night! I wholeheartedly recommend Copi Hollow Caravan Park.

DUBBO, BYROCK PUB, BOURKE, COBAR, WILCANNIA & WHITE CLIFFS

I was still at Red Rock Estate Vineyard come Sunday. I found it, and Dubbo a really top spot to prop. James loved that he was free to roam and interact with patrons in for tastings and meals. I reckon he would be the perfect pub dog. He clearly adores being the centre of attention.

The golf club, I had discovered, was running a 4 man Ambrose charity comp commencing at eleven. I had dropped in the previous day and, given I didn't have a team of my own, put myself down as an emergency. I rocked up with my clubs and waited, but bugger me if there was not a single drop-out of the full field. Not to worry, I would have a hit on the 9 hole course by myself. I arrived at the 19th. hole where two guys had just teed off. Would I like to go ahead or join them? That's a no-brainer - I'm going with them! Scott and Andrew were not locals. From Melbourne and the Gold Coast, they were working on a construction project for a few months. We got on really well and while my golf was predominantly shit, I  had a really enjoyable time. At the end we had a few drinks and shared a late lunch.

Monday morning I felt rather industrious, so spent a couple of hours checking the eight tyre pressures, significantly increasing KPI in seven of them. My compact portable air compressor works surprisingly well, albeit slowly. I also fixed the upholstered board at the head of the bed. It had shaken loose. With water tanks refilled and windows washed James and I were given a very warm farewell from our hosts, Lin and Hilary, late morning. It was really sweet.

Our destination for the day was  Mulga Creek Hotel, aka Byrock Pub. Northwest of Dubbo by 388 km, I had read good reviews. On arrival I popped into the bar and introduced myself to Rebecca. She had been in Australia since June and was working her 88 days in the outback to qualify for a visa extension. It was certainly a different space to her mother country, England. She was warm, bubbly and vivacious. She told me to drive around to the large area behind and park wherever, which I did before taking James back to the bar for some mandatory bubbles and photo.

It was a very quiet night at the pub, the previous evening having apparently been huge. Most likely the 14 strong town population were all nursing hangovers! As we departed next morning I made a short detour down the road beside the pub to visit the Byrock Rock Holes. A place of significance to the Ngemba Aboriginal people, the permanent water holes are worth seeing and there is lots of information at the site about the history surrounding them.

Bourke was just under an hour's drive north. I'd heard it was a bit of a rough place with little going for it so planned to spend a few hours there before going down to Cobar. I was surprised when I arrived to find it quite appealing, and after a walk along the very low though still picturesque Darling River followed by coffee and cake at the excellent restaurant by the historic wharf, I decided a stopover for the night was the way to go. Rebecca from the pub had suggested nearby Mt Oxley was worth a look, so I popped into the Information Centre to buy a $9 permit and get the gate code to enter the private property on which it sat. Apparently sunset was the best time to go, but I was warned the road in was pretty bad. l parked the van at the Mitchell Caravan Park in town and unhitched it. A few sites along, Chris and Anne-Marie were doing the same and we got chatting. That resulted in me inviting them to join me on the 65 km round trip. We agreed it would be best to get back before dark to avoid the dusk kangaroo danger.

With a couple of hours up my sleeve I did a tour of the town taking in the cemetery where the famous eye doctor, Fred Hollows was buried, the very dry golf course, the historic old bridge across the river and some of the beautifully preserved buildings.

At 4pm Chris and Anne-Marie jumped in my Jeep and we drove up the highway to pick up the dirt road into My Oxley. To say the road in was rough was an understatement! At times I was crawling along at little better than walking pace. We eventually arrived at the base of the mountain to find a steep, single car width of bitumen with a sheer drop off one side to get us to the top. I took it very slowly! When we got to the top it was stunning.

Mount Oxley (aboriginal name Oombi Oombi) is a tableland that dominates the surrounding flat plains. It seems to be covered in pieces of rock that have broken off from larger ones. We were able to reconstruct a boulder by slotting in surrounding chips. There is a strange phenomenon associated with My Oxley that was originally reported by early explorer Charles Sturt in 1829. Apparently around sunset after a very hot day you can sometimes hear booming sounds emanating from it. I wondered if it might be caused by exploding rocks. There are also some unexplained rock craters - maybe also from some sort of explosions. It was certainly an interesting place and had great views. I had taken a bottle of champagne to drink up top but decided to uncork it for the three of us to share once I had navigated my way back down the narrow road. It was almost dark by the time we got back to town where Chris and Anne-Marie cooked a great dinner for us and pulled out another bottle of bubbles.

Next morning I bid farewell to my new found friends and headed south to Cobar just 160 km away.  I arrived before lunch and parked the car and van in a great free camp area adjacent to parkland right behind the main street and Cobar Memorial Services Club. It was very convenient. James and I wandered over to the shops where I was able to book a haircut in the afternoon. There were a few things to see around Cobar but given Brian was arriving the following day from Yarrawonga, I stayed put for the arvo so we could sightsee together in his car. He arrived mid morning Thursday having overnighted at Griffith, and we spent the afternoon visiting the Fort Bourke Lookout above the open cut gold mine, the Great Cobar Heritage Centre, the monument paying tribute to the copper miners, the airport and the Newey dam.

COBAR MEMORIAL SERVICES CLUB FREECAMP gets a 4. It is large enough to take maybe 16 vans all standing on bitumen. It's quiet, has toilets, parkland and kids playground. It's walking distance to shops and clubs.
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Wilcannia was our next stopover. It was 261 km west. We traveled in convoy, me leading and Brian behind in his BT 50. It was blowing a crosswind gale so I kept my speed well down. The Victory caravan park was just before town, and while a bit on the shabby side was cheap at $25 for a powered site and had new industrial washing machines that were free. Excellent. I threw in two loads which nearly blew off the clothes line in the wind. We went for a drive around the tiny township which, to be blunt, is largely a dump despite there being a couple of nice old buildings. We did have a lovely fire by the river when the wind eventually died down, however, so enjoyed our evening.

While my direction of travel was generally west, there was another little place I wanted to investigate. It was an hour north of Wilcania and, similar to Lightning Ridge, an opal mining town, albeit a far smaller place. Set amid piles of mullock heaps, the locality's most upmarket establishment by a long shot was the Underground Motel, Restaurant & Bar. After depositing my wheels at the only caravan park, we took the rutted track through the opal fields to check it out. We arrived at the same time as a lady traveling solo in a motorhome did, got chatting, and all three of us were invited to do a tour of the motel. It was nice, clean, well appointed and very different - but not a place I would like to stay. No phone coverage, no ensuite facilities (and a bloody long and windy walk to the bathrooms), no tv and obviously no natural light. It wasn't claustrophobic - just unappealing.

Kaye, the motorhome lady and I shared some information about where we'd been, where we were going to and good places to stay. As it turned out we were both planning to head across the Nullarbor to WA early in 2020. We friended each other on Facebook and agreed to stay in touch. Perhaps we would end up doing some travel together. Brian and I continued our tour of White Cliffs for the next couple of hours - the general store, golf course, fossicking areas, mining leases and locals.

Later that afternoon a dust storm rolled in followed by thunderstorms which confined us to the van for a few hours. It was fantastic for the countryside to get some rain at last. Fingers crossed the coming months bring more to the parched land. When the rain stopped we headed to the town pub just down the street. Saturday evening would no doubt bring a few of the locals out, most likely making for an interesting evening. Brian and I were not disappointed. By 6pm the bar had filled up and we were well entertained for a couple of hours.