Having lunch at a corner table in a beautiful restaurant
with floor to ceiling glass, we look out at the scene before us - railway
lines, sheds, earth moving equipment and giant piles of rubble. Not the scene
we would normally find appealing, but today, it is perfect. This is Broken
Hill.
Its appeal seems to creep up on us. It’s a big country
mining town - or is it a city? We’re not sure, but it has the feel of a large
town, so we decide that’s what it is. It has wide streets lined with beautiful
old buildings that have, along the main street and the Heritage Trail, been
maintained, but along less visited parts been left to grow old without care and
in some cases shut down and bordered up. The latter become sad echoes of the
town’s better days, but the new gift shops, small art galleries and renovated
corner hotels are reminders that it now caters very cleverly to the tourist
trade. And so it should. We suspect that
every visitor finds something different in Broken Hill.
It’s not a ‘pretty’ place to visit but it’s striking and
honest and becomes mesmerising the longer we’re here. It is certainly proud of
its heritage and that is what draws us in.
Looming over the town is the Line of Lode, paraded in guide books in the glorious orange glow of sunset. During the day, it is less romantic, a mass of greys, charcoals, ochre, black and all the other colours of this broken
earth – which is an apt name for the restaurant and visitors centre that sits atop it and where we now have lunch.
It’s strange driving up to the Broken Earth centre, along a rough edged road that winds its way through tailings and past falling down structures that look ready to fall further. The centre has won architectural awards and we can see why. It is stunning and reaches upward to the sky, away from the earth. Pointing towards the future? Celebrating Broken Hill as a living entity? Near it is the Broken Hill Memorial which from a distance looks like a series of rust coloured mining buckets or trailers joined together. Together the two buildings represent the past and the future.
I am unprepared for my own reaction as I enter the memorial,
confronted with lists of names and dates of miners who have died here, the
youngest being 12 and the latest death being in 2007. It moves me far more than
any war memorial I have visited, no doubt because I am in the place where these
people died.
I wonder later how many aboriginal people have suffered and
died because of the occupation and mining here, but for now, I am involved in
the experience of what is presented to me.
I look out from our lunch table and see more than just the
rubble and cold grey colours. I see the shops and houses of Broken Hill, its
grid of streets and beyond to the mines and plains that stretch on forever. It is such an isolated place and perched up
here I get a very real sense of that.
I read a guidebook that said that you can never get a true a
sense of Broken Hill until you know its history. In many ways, the memorial to
the miners has done that, but I still wait for the history before the white man
and there doesn’t seem to be a great acknowledgement of that.
Our trip to The Living Desert and to the Sculptures there
give a different perspective, not just for an understanding of the connection
between art and the environment, but for recognition of the importance of the
land to its traditional owners. I am left wanting more.
But for more recent history, we try a little trek out to Silverton, with its “classic outback
look”. It's interesting trying to imagine the town as it once was, with 5,000 people. We tour
the museum housed in the old gaol, where the maintenance man at our motel has
told us ‘there’s a lot of ancient shit’ and he’s right. There is. We walk the
wide streets and marvel at how much of the town has disappeared with so few ‘ruins’ to
show. (Jon loves his ruins)
The town prides itself on its film history, as does Broken
Hill. A new breed of tourists is catered for. Popular culture creates a new
breed of tourists, not interested in the town’s past so much as its filmography.
But listen to me....I
have only been in Broken Hill for a day and a half! I know I need to stay
longer to discover more, as already I am finding holes in my previous statement
that the town is proud of its heritage. Who selects the heritage?
Two days later when we drive through the tiny town of Collarenebri
on our way to Moree, we stop at a park
for lunch. A huge sign explains how the town got its name, which Aboriginal
people live there and why the town is an
important site for them. It lists many sites and artefacts and explains their
significance.
On reading this, I understand more fully what I missed out
on in Broken Hill.
as always pixie, you offer us a sense of place that evokes my curiosity and my desire to follow in your footsteps / tread marks. I found your juxtaposition of celebrated heritage trial buildings beside the more neglected dilapidated structures a poignant one. (see renae. some people do use 'juxtaposition' in polite conversation). it brings to mind other images of working towns like port adelaide and queenstown that are not overly gentrified with restoration. I guess, the trick is to find a balance between preservation and honesty and commerce.
ReplyDeleteAnd so much juxtaposition on this trip Biro, every single day in so many ways. perhaps I should do a special post for renae on this subject? I'll muse on it for sure. Thank you for your interactive comment. I wonder how I'd feel about these places if I spent more time there. Still, the first impression is as real as a more considered one. Queenstown (in Tassie of course) certainly takes a lot of work to appreciate doesn't it? Also, the balance you mention would change over the years and from person to person?
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