Day 55: Leaving the North West
Driving along the road I am experiencing something that I have not seen for over a month. The driving rain bouncing off the windscreen has forced me to put the windscreen wipers up to high. Prior to this, they have been used largely to wipe the dust off or smear bugs, often making it more difficult to see. I should have realised something was going to change as I drove past a sign that said “26th Parallel - You are Leaving the North West”.
Waking at Monkey Mai, a slight drizzle was starting to settle in making it one of our quickest pack ups to avoid getting everything wet. As we left I was thinking how fortunate we are having had a great day yesterday and the weather being on our side for all of this trip. Although it could also be the fact that today we were driving to Geraldton to drop Kathy at the Airport so the weather gods had only been nice to her.
While today is the end of the trip for Kathy (unless she has to spend multiple nights sleeping in airports as she is flying from Geraldton to Perth, then to Brisbane, then to Sydney), we still have a long way to go. Today marks the day we begin our drive from the west coast of Australia all the way to the east coast in Sydney.
As the windscreen wipers and constant rain fill the car with noise, I am not sure if I hear the radio weather forecast correctly? Did he just say the word “snow”? Listening more closely the announcer talks about a major cold front with the chance of snow in the Sterling Rangers. Snow in Western Australia! And the news doesn’t get any better. “High winds with damaging surf along all of the south coast”.
While the plan was to make our way further south to Perth before turning east, sometimes plans need to change. And listening to the weather forecast for the next week, now was that time.
With the decision to head directly inland away from the coast with the theory to temporarily avoid multiple night setting up the tent in the rain, we pull out the map. What alternative adventure could we take on? It is not long before we realise a path leading directly through the old goldfields of WA. With the thought of not only exploring some old mining towns, but hopefully some great pubs, we turn the steering wheel directly east.
With the sun setting (sorry wishful thinking) we find a great spot called Tenindewa Pioneer Well. This little known spot on the map was important for the early settlers as a water source allowing the pastures to be opened up in the region.
With the rain luckily holding off, we set up camp on the same site as the original Tenindewa one teacher school which operated up until 1939. And while the school no longer remains, fortunate for us there is a small shelter just in case the weather gods were definitely on Kathy’s side and the rain returns.
Day 56: “I’ve been everywhere”
Mulewa, Tenindewa, Yalgoo, Morawa, Meekatharra, Wiluna, Kalgoorlie, Coolgardie, Kambalda, Mukinbudin, Walgoolan, Burracoppin, Carrabin, Bodallin, Warralakin, Pindar.
No, I’m not repeating the lyrics to a Chad Morgan song or speaking another language but listing just some of the towns we are driving through or passing by.
Having left Tenindewa, the vegetation is getting shorter and the dirt redder. We have definitely left the coastal tourist route behind with processions of caravans being replaced with the occasional mining truck. It is not long before the dirt is replaced with gibber stones, an indication that we have entered the outback - that along with a sign stating “welcome to the outback”.
One thing I love about this part of the country is not only the isolation, but in between hundreds of kilometres of nothing, you have these small towns. Now ‘towns’ is a loose term as many of them are little more than an intersection with a few old buildings. If you are lucky they may have more, but often these are just the remnants of a previously busy town, now replaced with boarded up windows. But if you are really lucky, it may still have an operating hotel.
Pulling into Yalgoo, a small dot on the map, we are greeted with a sign on the door of a small building saying “The Best Pub in Yalgoo”. Realising this is the only Pub in Yalgoo what better thing to do than stop for a drink. Entering through the door, the hotel is empty. The publican, somewhat shocked at seeing people, is quick to offer us a drink. Now there is no fancy craft beers here, just the choice of Swan larger or Swan larger on tap. Ordering a Swan Larger, we then set out playing a few rounds of darts - and just for the record I beat Graeme.
Not wanting to be embarrassed any more Graeme sensible decides it’s time to leave. After several more hours of driving with nothing more than the occasional road-train to break the monotony, we arrive at Sandstone. This small town would have been thriving during the gold rush. While it used to have four hotels, the National Hotel, built in 1907, is the only one still managing to survive. The hotel remains largely unchanged with its iron bull nose verandah, red and white locally fired brick facade, and eclectic nick-nacs throughout the building.
Realising darts is not Graeme’s game, he tries his luck at pool - for the record I win again. With night time approaching we need to leave in order to find camp, although I think this was Graeme just trying to get me out of the hotel as a sign said “skimpies 5pm” (you will need to read an earlier blog if you don’t know what’s skimpie is).
Unlike the coastal tourist highways, where free camping is either non-existent or overflowing with caravans and winnebagos, there are multiple spots along these outback roads where you can pull over for a night. Tonight we end up at a small lookout east of Sandstone. If you do ever find this spot you can definitely say - “I’ve been everywhere”.
Day 57: A Pub with no beer
Standing in the small 3 room house the slight breeze coming through the broken window is whispering stories of what life was once like here. As it swirls around an old kerosene lamp lying broken on the floor the voice of Angelo ‘Ginger’ Branchi can be heard as he describes to his friend why he left Italy in the 1920’s to come to Western Australia on the hope of a better life and finding gold. With little more than the clothes on his back, there was no money to build, so tents and discarded iron were used to create a home. To give it a more welcoming feel he painted it pink.
This is one of approximately 20 buildings still standing in the ghost town of Gwalia. It is reported that the day the adjacent gold mine closed, the exodus of families happened overnight with the items they could not carry left to deteriorate with the ramshackle cottages. Walking through the buildings, all manner of items from beds to cooking pots are left, almost where they were when abandoned.
While I am fascinated with old buildings, especially the untold stories on why they have fallen in to disrepair, we are still on our search for more pubs to have a drink. The Gwalia State Hotel was constructed in 1903 and based on the 2 storeys and ornate structure you can tell there was money at the time. It was built by the Government to control the ‘sly-grog’ or liquor trade that operated illegally through the mining towns. But like the rest of Gwalia, the windows are boarded up and the timber is slowly rotting as the doors have been closed for over 60 years.
As we were getting thirstier, we pressed on following the old seams of gold to the town of Kookynie. Gold was discovered near Kookynie in the late 1890’s and in its hey-day the town had over 400 buildings including everything from a brewery to a racecourse. Like all busy mining town it’s also had its fare share of pubs - 7 to be precise.
Today the town is a remnant of its former glory, with little more than the skeletal remains of the road network and a few buildings slowly eroding away with time. But there is one building still remaining and that is the Grand Hotel.
Pulling up to the building the first thing I notice is a ‘For Sale’ sign on the front. While the thought of running a Pub sounds interesting, the idea moving to a place that is over 100km from the nearest civilisation, which is then hundreds of kilometres from a real town soon burst that bubble. But even more disappointing was the closed sign on the front door. Even the horse that was standing on the pub veranda right next to the door appeared to be annoyed it was closed.
It seemed the lack of open pubs was a sign of the broader death of many of these outback towns. And while the initial gold rush of the 1900’s ended, along with many of the towns, modern technology has seen the mines return but on a much larger scale.
While the mines of the past were small and a mere dot on the landscape, the modern mines are a physical assault on the land. With entire mountains removed or an open cut hole in the ground bigger than that left by any meteor.
Even the towns that remain are different. What was once a town full of families and all the functioning of normal life, the modern towns such as Leinster developed by BHP to support the adjacent mine, are sterile lacking a sense of soul.
Click on images below to enlarge
With no beers in sight we head to another free camp, this time Lake Ballard to set up camp for the night.
Walking out onto the dry lake bed at night there is no moonlight to guide the way. The stars are small smudges fighting to break through a light cloud cover, giving the whole lake an eerie feeling. Several hundred meters out, the motionless shadow of a person appears through the black, stopping me in my tracks. However the body is naked and not of a normal human, with long slender arms and legs. It’s as though an alien has landed and is staring back at me. But this is no alien, but an art work involving 51 statues placed over the lake floor.
The statues are part of a large outdoor art instillation by British artist Antony Gormley. He used the images of 51 local residents of the nearby town of Menzies to form the sculptures which represents “both the empty centre of the continent and the interior of our bodies”. When Gormley first visited the lake he recalls “being on the lip of the edge of the world”. Standing on the lake in the middle of night with these strange creature I can attest to the feeling of being on the edge of the world.
Having avoided the rain so far we enjoy another campfire and, since we were unable to find a pub, luckily we brought beers with us.
Day 58: Blowing a hole in the earth
There is one quick way to get you out of the tent quickly and packed. That is the pattering sound of rain on the tent fly. While the reason we headed inland was to avoid the rain, it seems we couldn’t outrun it completely. Leaving Lake Ballard, we continue on the gold trail exploring old pubs along the way.
One place we are guaranteed to find a hotel is Kalgoorlie in the heart of mining territory. In 1893 Paddy Hannah, along with two other prospectors found nearly 100 ounces of gold at Kalgoorlie. This sparked a gold rush with thousands of hopefuls coming to the district to make their fortune in the ‘golden mile’. While many of the original 44 hotels are now either converted shops, or worse stand empty, there are still plenty remaining for us to visit. And with the rain expected to settle in our plan was to stay in one of these ‘fine establishments’.
However, one thing we did not count on, was arriving in town on the exact same day where the annual Diggers and Dealers Mining Forum was being held. Over three days, 3000 miners, bankers and prospectors converge on the town meaning for us everything was booked out.
With no where to stay the best we could do was to go and watch someone blow up some dirt. Following the initial gold rush period many of the mines in town became less profitable to operate and closed. However with advanced technology, In the 1980’s Alan Bond attempted to amalgamate these mines into one, but like many of his other dodgy ventures, failed. While unsuccessful, a subsequent company amalgamated many of the leases which eventually led to the creation of one mine. Now when I say one, I actually mean one big super pit creating a hole in the ground 600 metres deep and 3.5km long.
Standing at the lookout overlooking the super pit, it is hard to grasp the size until you see the mining trucks that are bigger than a house look like miniature tonker toys. Peering into the abyss, the hole in the ground appears to continue to the centre of the earth, however the rest of the landscape is nothing like earth, devoid of any life. All of a sudden there is a boom that echoes over the pit and a cloud of dust billows skyward as a blast destroys a section of the wall.
It is strange to think this destruction of the landscape produces more than 14 tonnes of gold a year, the majority of which serves little real purpose other than as ornation on someone’s finger or around their neck. I have managed to avoid buying opals at Coober Pedy, and Pearls at Cygnet Bay, so there is no chance of gold being on the shopping list.
Leaving Kalgoorlie, we have several other unsuccessful stops at closed hotels until we reach Norseman, another of the many small towns with little more than a pub remaining. Luckily this one not only served beers but had a room for the night.
With the rain now coming down on the iron verandah roof outside my window it looks like we will be rethinking our plans for the journey home.
