Broken Hill and Silverton

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  Broken Hill, New South Wales, Australia
Thursday, September 11, 2008

Hi everyone
 
This part of the blog is called Broken Hill because we drove from Adelaide up through the outback to a town called Broken Hill which is very famous indeed and then back down to Melbourne to visit friends. We had read up about Broken Hill and it was touch and go at one point about whether to make the trek there in our car but after reading and hearing that it was so famous and so unforgettable, we decided it would be sinful not to go have a look.
 
We drove for approx 5 hours, or 500km, straight. Why? Well, as well as having the maddest hotel there which starred in Priscilla Queen of the desert, the nearby spitting-distance location of Silverton has the one and only pub which is the most famous pub in the world for commercials, modelling shoots, films (Mad Max, Town Called Alice plus others...)
 
Broken Hill started off and is famous for its mining town history

A dried up creek...a common sight

. It was 'discovered' around 30 years after the founding of Sydney - or Melbourne, or Adelaide - one or the other. (David: Oddly, although it is indeed 500 km from Adelaide and about 800 from Melbourne, why on earth did it take them 30 years to find the place?? I can imagine it taking 5 years or so perhaps BUT there is absolutely NOTHING in the way. It's completely flat. You could walk from Melbourne to Broken Hill in a dead straight line and nothing would get in your way. You wouldn't even need to deviate around a tree. 30 years?? if you were hacking your way through a dense jungle whilst balancing a Piano on your head, maybe (don't laugh, some early Australian explorers have done worse) but 30 years to get to Broken Hill? Perhaps they needed time to perfect a portable fridge to keep the beer cold.)
  
Broken Hill is not only tiny but just one massive red dust-devil of old buildings and little life! We went to see "Mario's Palace Hotel" - the 'Priscilla' Hotel. The three-storey ornate Victorian-balconied building dominates one end of a block, looking very grim with peeling paint, dirty grey nets hanging limply and a dark foreboding demeanour. An unanswered knock on the door led to ringing the mobile number and being told he (the manager?!) would come shortly. Currently, David is reading Bill Bryson's book "Down Under" chuckling through it. Bill Bryson mentions this Hotel commenting on the bizarre wall murals that adorn the inside

The Priscilla Hotel

. While waiting outside David filled me in: "An aboriginal painted them - in short bursts - some years ago. He'd come by, paint a panel, get paid and bugger off on walkabout for a few weeks or months". Peeking through the locked glass doors we saw the mind-altering murals dominating the décor consisting of angry waves and cyclonic trees in gloopy oil-painted hues of dark blues and greens.
 
Finally, we were met by the manager (?) - (resembling a farmer! Albeit a very thin farmer (David: nothing strange there, it's a mining town.) and we acted as though we wanted a room so he showed us around. My god! The place was carpeted with patterns that can only have resulted from a magnificent LSD Trip with dark wood-panelled walls and a big imposing mahogany staircase which sat heavily underneath the mezzanine floors above. On the expansive ceiling in the lobby was painted, in the same recreational-drug mood, a copy of Botticelli's 'Birth of Venus' which bore down on your heads as you stepped through the eery silence of the Hotel. We asked who had painted everything, waiting for the story: "The owner painted the Venus up there, but... some black fella painted all the others - in short bursts - some years ago. He'd come by, paint a panel, get paid and bugger off on walkabout for a few weeks or months" No real change there then, Bryson's research is mostly sound.

Mind-altering murals and carpets

 
 "The only room available..." was a deeply regrettable missed photo opportunity. Silvery-foil and pale blue flocked wallpaper. Two single mahogany beds which may have witnessed dead people from the 18th century. The bathroom was the size of a shoebox with a shower from the 60's and peach toilet, corner sink and freezing grey flecked ceramic tiles that used to be in hospitals during the 70's. It was all very dark, dank, musty and about as inviting as sleeping in a rotting corpse's pyjamas. We made superb positive noises though, asked all the right questions as well as "are you busy at the moment? Is business good?", "no. all the rooms are all empty, well, unless you count the one up there......" and as we glanced up to the upper mezzanine floor, saw more dark, dank rooms standing in rows. Apparently, an Italian woman had checked in with her husband earlier but they'd left after ten minutes!
 
The place was like a haunted mansion. You could feel the air stiffening around you, cobwebs shivering as dusk breathed onto its wispy threads and as the creaking boards of the lonely winding staircase carried you down you would probably see dead people quickly disappearing behind corners. The main office was a taxidermist's heaven! There were stuffed birds of all flocks perched and hanging, all fixed with that Hammer House of Horrors frozen steely glare and puffed out chests just waiting for Alfred Hitchcock to resurrect them and have them peck your eyes out as you sleep

One of the historic mines..a short drive to visit!

. The 'Hotel' bar was closed but I'm sure the dead found it a handy meeting place for pre-guest-haunting tipples. Apparently, according to Lonely Planet, there was a 'Priscilla' room you could have but I got the feeling that, 'if we didn't want the room then thanks and goodbye' sort of impatient-ness was hanging in the air. Actually, we wanted to take some sneaky snaps - but the 'manager' was itching to finish his steak supper... so we left. (David: I don't blame him; he looked like he needed it) Bill Bryson thought it was a very creepy place and left soon after being shown around. Good idea. Definitely worth a visit though. We will have to watch Priscilla again now.
 
We found a B & B above a row of shops and it was lovely but all the décor was mint green - deep and fluffy shagpile carpet, walls, skirting boards, towels...it was like walking into a trebor mint! It was really homely though, like staying at your gran's house with rocking chairs, tea cosies and doilies in the centre of little tables. The whole place also reeked of Shake 'n' Vac! To bring that freshness back.... The B & B had had a massive fire some years ago caused by an electrical fault. It had destroyed several guest bedrooms and completely gutted the guest lounge. Thankfully though, the business wasn't ruined and they managed to restore and redecorate. The owners thought that this piece of their history was something that future guests would find fascinating so they displayed several framed newspaper articles of this fire all over the walls in the lounge

The famous Silverton Hotel

. Possibly not considering that all future guests, like us, might think "shoddy workmanship kills us in our sleep!" and then not want to stay or even spread the word that you may be killed in your sleep by a fork-lightening plug socket next to your bed.
 
The owners were actually really lovely people - the husband especially was very friendly...particularly when we attempted to snuggle up in the tea-cosy lounge to watch a DVD and were suddenly subjected to hearing which were his favourite films of all time...favourite actors of all time...favourite funny lines of all time from...his favourite films of all time or...favourite beer of all time which is lovely to drink...while watching his favourite film of all time.
 
And.... 'oh, isn't that Jack Nicholson... he's a great actor.'
And... 'I thought he was really good in that Sun Shining over a Cuckoo-burra's nest thing that he was in'
And... 'No, no, no... The Shining... that was it.
And... 'Or was it Two flew up a Magpies nest... Magpies like shiny things don't they?'
 
He also loves a good Port at the end of every day..

Silverton!

. No shit?
 
We contemplated watching the first half of the DVD again since we'd missed most of it by now - but decided instead to try to find out whether they add mercury to the water supply (David: Or the Port) in an attempt to speed up the decline of the town.....
 
We've found so far that despite these small towns being in the middle of a dusty nowhere, they still have expensive classy clothes boutiques (in the middle of the flaming outback?! (David: Kangaroos are very fashion conscious, didn't you know?)), classy restaurants and trendy wine bars as well as local spit 'n' sawdust pubs, dusty trucks rolling past and local women gossiping on street corners. Although, by day, they look like ghost towns out of an episode of Sapphire and Steel, at night they come alive with young suited men striding about, groups of girls giggling, families fighting over pizza slices and backpackers photographing the eccentricity of it all. (David: One dad even offered a small three year old girl to Lois: "If you think she's so adorable, you can have her"... we declined... we'd already eaten....)
 
We visited Bell's Milk Bar. A must have. A small diner that is like going back to the 50's

Mundi Mundi Plain...where the world has died..

. It was a place, for me, of absolute fantasia and fantastic-ness. The whole place is decked out like a scene from Grease. You can just see Frenchy and Sandy sharing a milkshake and whispering under the sultry croons of Frankie Avalon. It was an absolutely superb place with original murals all over the wall (see photo), marble topped tables and black and white square linoleum floor tiles. The woman behind the counter was fantastic as if she had stepped out of the pages of a 1950's Woman's Weekly. To cut a long story short, the place started out as a confectioners in 1892 and the original building occupied the same site that Bells does today. Over the years and through different marriages, the place changed hands to a milk bar and people would walk from 10km just to have a famous Bell's milkshake..like a Ginger Beer Spider or a Green Lime. It's won numerous awards over the years as well as being the most famous and popular place for your wedding receptions, first dates, hanging out with Bikers..all over one wall there are customer memories remembering Bells from their childhood. Some handwritten memories brought tears to my eyes, locals absolutely revered the place. I can safely say that their Vanilla milkshake did in fact arouse in me some rather odd squeaky noises and deep throaty groans which didn't go unnoticed with the 50's waitress who found my excitable approval of her Shake very amusing! David, meanwhile, wondered quietly how long a drive-thru divorce takes these days.....See Bells for yourself: type into google: Bells Milk Bar and be prepared to adore and crave the past

Go in for a Spider Green Lime Malt shake...!

.
 
After a great night's sleep in Trebor Mint Kingdom, we drove to Silverton. It really was as imagined and described. Just one long red-dusty road, the end of which shimmered away in the distance, beyond the end of the world. It's so called because it literally used to be an old silver-mining town. It was booming in 1885 but in 1889 all the mines closed and everyone moved to Broken Hill leaving Silverton a ghost town. Today, it's kept alive by tourists and an odd array of art galleries - well, you wouldn't be lost for inspiration..desert..dust...dust...desert....er...mountains...dust...desert.....We found the one and only famous pub with a replica Mad Max car parked outside and a man chewing tobacco on the bench outside. The pub was a wooden shack type affair with a plethora of movie and commercial memorabilia stuck to the walls. Humorous quips about men and women hung from the ceiling, cow bells tinkled in the desert breeze and sweaty cheese sandwiches queued up pathetically in the bar's chiller cabinet. We asked about the famous 'Silverton Test' we'd heard mentioned. I volunteered David, when the barmaid told me one had to do the test to find out what it was. So, David had the task of leaning his head back and balancing a large potato on his forehead. And then - WITHOUT USING HIS HANDS - he was to carefully let the potato fall and catch it in a large funnel that had been thrust into the belt of his trousers

Where are you Frankie Avalon?? Bells Milk Bar

. This had to be accomplished three times in succession to pass the test. I exclaimed loudly, "is that it?!" but soon ate my words when after the first successful drop, the barmaid lent over the bar and squirted water down the funnel which soaked David's groin!!! I experienced my own water seepage...from my eyes for quite some time and the barmaid smirked, muttering "another sucker!" and went off to print David a "Congratulations for passing the Silverton Test" Certificate. (David: Yes... However, I take comfort in the possibility that Mel Gibson may have also fallen foul of the test there when filming Mad Max.)
 
Next: Mundi Mundi lookout, a scenic viewpoint 5km from Silverton. You come off the road onto a dirt car park and just stand and stare at the Mundi Mundi Plain before you, squinting and praying to see just one human...just one...anywhere....or a car.....please...in the distance....As well as being supremely stunning it is also quite alarming. If the whole world died tomorrow, this is how it would feel. To be the only person alive. (David: Well, except for the other three cars of tourists and the one car of local 'gropers') Darling, I'm building the scene, building the scene, making it eery!!
 
With Broken Hill and Silverton ticked off, we now descended down to Melbourne, via Mildura, a one night stop-over at a great Motel with crazy-lady receptionist who could talk for the Sydney Olympics and whom David briefly helped out with guests when she lost her professionalism while exercising her jaw about her forthcoming wedding...her 2nd wedding...her partners previous children...her previous job at a casino...her dream wedding dress....her reception on a riverboat...how overworked and underpaid she is......!

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