There are places that everyone should visit before they die – Paris, New York and Sydney, and the Croatian coast, according to my daughter. But closer to home there’s a region that every Aussie should visit. I’d like to explain why.
It was a Monday (Queen’s Birthday holiday) and I was due in Wilcannia the next day for a workshop. What the heck, I’ll drive out there to Hay and then head north – petrol at $1.69 litre, so it had better be worth it!
Getting there
I head out past Yass and onto Harden-Murrumburrah – decent homes and streetscapes. Yes, the golf course is as good as my mate Phil Hardy tells me. The population is just below 2,000. Damn the long forgotten local politicians that caused the civic fragmentation.
Stop at Temora for a coffee. The town is doing well, a local schoolteacher tells me.
David Lowy’s passion for flying old aircraft, and his championing of the Temora Air Show, has provided the spark and newfound confidence. The main street and shops are in particularly good nick.
Onward to Barmedman, with its old wheat silos and boarded up shop windows. Way too small now.
Then to West Wyalong, another victim of parochial politicians. Its decline has been arrested by the reopening of the Cowal goldmine, says the lady at the servo. She’s happy, but the Wiradjuri tribal elders think differently.
Quick beer at a very good pub. In fact, the CBD must have been laid out by the town drunk.
Further west to Rankin’s Springs (population 110), where a well spoken couple running the café lament their lack of customers and the dwindling attendance at the State School.
Next up is Goolgowi, with a population of 260. Same story. The Greek shopkeeper tells me to avoid unsealed roads because of the rain. So I head further west to Hay, then swing north to Ivanhoe.
Getting tired – lots of low scrub, roos, emu and goats.
Now this is different! Have reached Central Darling Shire. Two beers at the Ivanhoe pub – Melbourne is getting flogged at the MCG.
I ask my new best friend parked at the bar what makes the town tick. An incredulous look crawls across his face.
“Didn’t you see the f…… railway line on the way into town?’
He asks where I’m from, and his face takes on a resigned look when I fess up. He launches into a vitriolic claim for tax concessions for the bush.
He informs me the road to Wilcannia is cut, adding five hours to my trip. Fan-bloody-tastic!
So back to Hay, and then overnight at Balranald. My dark mood is lightened by my realisation that these two towns have improved markedly in the least decade.
Up very early and arrive at Broken Hill for breakfast. Now here is one funky city of 23,000 citizens. It is a honeycomb of old and new homes, roads, railway lines and mines. Although squarely in New South Wales, it runs on South Australian time and Aussie Rules is the religion.
Wilcannia
Two hours later, John Wayne canters into Wilcannia, and hitches the steed to the railing.
You have surely heard of Wilcannia. Along with Bourke and Brewarinna, which are further upstream on the meandering Darling River, this is the quintessential Outback.
In the 1800s, Wilcannia was a major port, with paddle steamers going further upstream to bring back the wool to Adelaide. It has some magnificent old sandstone buildings. A good town layout and some very nice homes. The population is 600, of which the majority are Indigenous.
Your knowledge of Wilcannia is probably shaped by TV shock jock stories about Indigenous alcoholism.
Sure it’s a problem. And there’s a burnt out supermarket sitting forlornly on the main corner, across the road from the pub and its listless patrons. Not a good look. But the locals get along. And it’s looking to get reinvented.
Council and Murdi Paarki, the Indigenous enterprise outfit, have bold plans to renovate the old post office opposite the pub. Beautiful sandstone.
The idea is to make it the town’s centrepiece – decent coffee and food, a training centre, Aboriginal art and crafts, smiling kids all spruced up and learning the ways of running a business.
I think of an Indigenous culture operation associated with the Cairns SkyRail, where wonderful Aboriginal kids leave an indelible imprint on customers.
But it’s all a dream at the moment because all the interest groups have to be connected, and the Feds have decided to sit on their hands for 12 months.
The river is 100 metres out the back. You can sense the history. This is the Outback. If my wife was here, she’d be marching forever along the riverbank with her water bottle.
Further afield
The next day I drive an hour to White Cliffs. If you think Broken Hill is funky, get a look at this place! Littered with opal mines and mounds, and wizened characters. This is not where you joke about being a tax inspector or a family court judge.
I stay at the underground motel. Excellent meal and company. I meet a minibus group of southerners and talk about Clunes and Ballarat, and how Lake Wendouree has dried up. Who was that sage that said ‘travel broadens the mind’?
Understanding Central Darling Shire is to think of four towns – Wilcannia as the HQ, White Cliffs to the north, Ivanhoe to the south and Menindee away to the southwest. All bisected by the Darling River, the transcontinental railway, the Barrier Highway and local roads that are impassable in the wet. Other defining features are its sunsets, the silence, its dry heat and its laidback residents.
Driving back to Canberra, I am impressed by Cobar and Nyngan. I make a mental note to harass our kids to spend a week out here, and to write this modest piece in support of small towns.
A dangerous subset of the Greens movement wants small towns and pastoral concerns in remote areas to be left to wither. They fail to comprehend that the folk out here are custodians of the Wild West environment.
* Rod Brown is a Canberra-based consultant specialising in industry/regional development, investment attraction and clusters and a regular contributor to Local Government FOCUS.
