Sounds of Silence

With the temperature in Moonta rising, the place to be was out on the jetty, letting the cool ocean air fan our bodies. To be a part of the ‘jetty scene’ we purchased a crab pot, stocked the esky and nestled down for the afternoon.


Dave and his catch

The Yorke Peninsula has a reputation for Blue Swimmer crabs and we were not disappointed, from just one pot we managed to catch 11 of legal size!

Part of our crab haul!










The sun had now set, we had drunk all our supplies, so it was home to cook us a crab feast, before we left the following morning.

The Barrier Highway led us away from the coast and further into the remote outback. As the vegetation subsided, so did the wildlife, traffic and noise. We were making our way to Broken Hill, but being some 700 kilometres away decided to stay somewhere to break the journey. There were not many options and passed through many abandoned towns, the hot dry wind having sucked any signs of life away.

The towns still in existence have changed little since their beginnings, bar decreasing in size. The homes and shops are still the originals built over a hundred years ago. The only giveaway of a modern time being the cars parked out front. This area of the outback really is an eerie place, full of ghost towns, bordered up windows and the engulfing sound of silence. The Central Outback region, with its iconic beauty, is not like out here and we began to realise why the outback can be seen as a desolate, isolated and slightly spooky place.

No sign of life for miles, then a delerict home

It was more comfortable in the car, with the air conditioning set on high, but sometimes nature calls. Stepping outside the heat made the air heavy, each breath becoming a laborious task. It was only a short walk to the ‘ablutions’, but seemed to take an eternity. The only sound to be heard was the eee- eww squeak of a whirly bird atop the toilet block. Perhaps it needed some oil, or was just working too hard but the noise, amplified in the silence, was rather eerie.

We had thought of stopping at Yunta for the night, but the patch of dirt, next to a petrol station, on the main road, that would have been home, made us press on to the next town. It was too hot to camp by the side of the road and besides, there was no shade or shelter, just a flat barren earth. We have all heard the saying ‘Big Sky Country’. It is true, the sky out here is enormous, stretching for miles and seeming to flatten the earth below.



Mundi Mundi Plains

And then we were suddenly in NSW, 50 kilometres from Broken Hill. We had been expecting a road block to take our contraband fruit and vegetables, but instead there was just a simple sign- Welcome to New South Wales. We were last in our ‘home’ state some 13 months prior. It was a strange feeling. We would soon be seeing familiar sights- NSW number plates, The Sunday Telegraph and place names familiar from childhood holidays in the ‘country’.

We had been on the road all day, and now a shower and then bed was near. Entering Broken Hill from the South Australian side the first thing you see is the cemetery. A cemetery that goes on forever, surely there are more people dead than alive in this town?

A stray I adopted in Broken Hill

Broken Hill- a place we had both visited as kids, but one that still offers many delights. No trip here is complete without popping out to Silverton. Silverton was born in 1883, but by 1899 was in decline when Broken Hill, with larger mines, was established. Although the population is less than 60, it is far from a ‘ghost town’. What is left of the ‘village’ (many buildings were transported to Broken Hill) is a major tourist attraction and movie location. Many films and commercials have been made out here, including Mad Max 2, A Town Like Alice and Priscilla Queen of the Desert.


The Interceptor from Mad Max 2

Artwork, Silverton

On our way home we detoured passed the Pro Hart Gallery. This famous artist was born and bred in Broken Hill, his quirky style just part of the Broken Hill scene.

Rolls Royce, painted by Pro Hart

Having picked up the entry key from the Visitors Centre, it was then off to the Sculpture Symposium. For six weeks from April 1, 1993 sculptors from around the world worked on a lonely hilltop, in the desert country surrounding Broken Hill. There are 12 sculptures in this isolated landscape, all carved without power tools.


Sculptures, Broken Hill desert

The National Park near Menindee, 100 odd kilometres from Broken Hill, is where Dave had camped as a child. The memories of dead Gum Trees standing tall in the Menindee Lake a happy one. The Gum Trees are still there, but water has not been sighted for a very long time. In fact, all of the lakes in the National Park were bone dry. With the South Australian water allocation running through the Menindee Lakes system, we were beginning to wonder if any would reach there. However, it is the lakes outside of the National Park that will be used. With the Darling running strong, these lakes still hold water and Dave got to see the Gum Trees still standing proud in the water.

Menindee Lakes

The National Park, called Kinchega was once part of a vast sheep station. At the end of its 99 year lease it was handed back to the Government. The homestead has been reduced to a pile of rubble, due to flood, but the Shearing Shed and Quarters are still in pretty good nick, having been maintained.

Shearing Shed, Kinchega National Park

The buildings and machinery provide an insight into our heritage, but I was amused by some of the relics from the station life. On display were gadgets from the early 70’s, when both Dave and I were born. Have we become that old, that a time from our life is on Museum display!
Homestead ruins

Hot and Cold

If you look at a map of South Australia, it is as if God realised his mistake and tried to claw away the oppressive heat and scorched land. But as the weather cooled he stopped. The result is a number of jagged peninsulas jutting out from the mainland, and we now found ourselves down the boot shaped one- the Yorke Peninsula.
As the rain came down we enjoyed the sweet relief. We will be forever grateful to the hospitality shown by Sam and Chris who invited us to stay until this cool change came through- some four days.

Our first stop was Ardrossan, on the east coast of the ‘Yorke’. A thriving sea port, on a clear day you can see across the water to Adelaide. But with the weather closing in, we marvelled at the red ochre cliffs that dropped to the ocean instead.
Mere kilometres are all that separates the towns of the Yorke. After the vast distances travelled between towns only recently, it took some getting used to. Or maybe it was the towns themselves that had us feeling a little nonchalant. Sure there were interesting discoveries like Wool Bay, where relics of an old lime kiln dug into the cliff remain (the industry died out in the 1950’s), but unless you are a keen fisherman the towns do not have much to offer (fishermen we are not).

Old lime kiln, Wool Bay

With such fertile land to grow barley, most of the peninsula is now farmland, the natural beauty simply cleared away.

However, a couple of nights in the historic town of Edithburgh allowed us slip back into our camper life. Many shipwrecks dot the coastline and the local cemetery provided an interesting insight into the tragedy of the ‘Clan Ranald’, shipwrecked in 1909. Forty lives were lost, all bar six an Asian crew. The Captain and esteemed cohorts are buried with full honours in the main body of the cemetery. The ‘Asians’ are buried in a mass grave some distance away, at the back of the cemetery.

A lonely mass grave, far away from the real cemetery

Although each crew members name was known, the mass grave was marked with a very small headstone stating ‘names unknown’. It wasn’t until the 90th anniversary that their names were finally recognised on a new headstone.

We were beginning to think that perhaps we were becoming a little ho-hum about our travels. With such a young history, much of Australia is the same, one coastal town much like the other. That was until we travelled to the ‘toe’ and Innes National Park. This was more like it- rugged coastline, spectacular scenery and a rich cultural heritage.

Our home, Innes National Park

A southerly breeze kept the air cool, but the sun enabled us to finally have a comfortable day on the beach. We had our mojo back, camped in the natural bushland with many emus for company. Contented after a day snorkelling and sunning, we took off to explore the park.

One of the locals, Innes National Park

With shipwrecks to discover our first stop was the ‘Ethel’. Back in 1940 this huge ship run into trouble on the reef. Salvage attempts only made it worse, securing the ship a grave at the base of the cliffs. Ironically, the first ship to encounter the troubled Ethel was the ‘Ferret’. Some 16 years later the Ferret too became shipwrecked at the same spot! The ravages of sixty years have left all but a rusting hull of Ethel, nature having reclaimed her body. It makes you wonder that no matter what we do to this earth, she will always win, simply reclaiming and adapting to a new way of surviving.

Wreck of the 'Ethel', Inneston National Park

Discovered in 1913, gypsum was once a rich mining industry of Inneston, which now lies within the boundaries of the National Park. The town, owned by the mining company, thrived and was a completely self sufficient community. That was until the depression of the 1930’s. A 2km walk took us through the remains of the abandoned town.

The Post Office, Inneston







Ruins, Inneston

The ruins of the post office, general store, factory, bakery, once grand homes, sporting grounds and stables, show it would have been a comfortable existence, albeit with no running water or electricity. Back in those days, before any environmentl concerns, rubbish was collected and piled at the top of the cliff edge. When the pile got big a tractor pushed it over, the rubbish falling onto the rocks and into the ocean below. Rubbish still remains at the cliff top, and is now heritage listed. In their wildest dreams, I'm sure the residents would not have imagined their broken crockery and used containers would become such. ...

Heritage listed rubbish. Broken plates and bottles dotting the clifftop


But it was the high energy coastline, sculptured by an unpredictable Southern Ocean that gave us the most rewarding views. It is no wonder there are remains of about 40shipwrecks here.

But, in need of a real shower and power, it was onward to Point Turton. Another coastal fishing town, but it did have a tavern perched high on the cliff top. As the sun descended on another day, we enjoyed a cold one and thought it all not too bad.

With no real destination in mind, we meandered our way up the west coast.

Yorke Peninsula coast

Stopping in at the odd little village to break the journey, we soon settled ourselves at Moonta. Luckily, Moonta has a certain charm of yesteryear. The buildings hark back to the late 1800’s when skilled Cornish migrants flocked to work in the copper mines.



Remains of the copper mining industry

Lucky, because we were to be here for four days, awaiting a new tyre from Adelaide- our first ‘car’ casualty to date.

At its peak the infrastructure built at the mine sites was on a grand scale. It was really quite bewildering to see photos from the heyday, looking across the stark ruins today. The buildings in the town itself have changed little. The shop names may have changed, but we still had to drive down a little alley at the back of the pub in order to buy takeaway alcohol.



Standing atop the tailings pile, across to the enginehouse