Yep, a
blimin’ long way! Lots of ‘nothingness’ between Dubbo and Broken Hill – just
super flat scrub land. Mind you, everything around the boring bits was lovely.
The drive through the Blue Mountains on a brilliantly clear Autumn day had the
landscape showing off its spectacular colours. All shades of reds, from deep
claret through to bright crimson, interspersed with shimmering gold ‘pillars’
of tall straight trees (Poplars??) – stunning. We travelled through Bathurst
and Orange before spending our first night in Wellington. All these towns were
lovely, and made me want to come back to see more of them, plus their
surrounds. So much history, and lovely old, big sandstone buildings. People
seem so innovative in these towns, making funky little café’s, restaurants and
bars, and beautifully renovating these gorgeous old buildings from the late
1800’s. Already, my imagination was being fired with leaving Sydney to do
something else; something more creative. And to live in one of these awesome
old houses.
First
touristy thing we did was visit Dubbo gaol, which is situated right in the
middle of town. In the old days, the folks of Dubbo were proud that its gaol
was in the middle of town, as it saw itself as a bit of a ‘centre for justice’.
But as time moved on, they didn’t think it was such a drawcard! Anyway, Dubbo
gaol is now only open to tourists, but it’s done so well, and is kept immaculately.
The usual stories of hardship and toil, but interesting how things got better
as the justice system went through reforms. It was really interesting to look
through one of their books to read about, and see pictures of previous inmates.
Stuff like their occupations, height, crime and sentence. One poor fella was
obviously an alcoholic, and was repeatedly locked up for drunkenness and
‘indecent language’. Eight men were hung at the gaol. The gallows were pretty
creepy, and the hangman’s kit exhibited there was the original set of ropes and
tools…yurg!
 |
Voici
Msr Jean Duval – a thief, when he wasn’t busy as his occupation as a cook. Lots
of description about his tatts! Just one of many interesting characters who
ended up in Australia from overseas, and sampled the NSW justice system!
And of
course, boys were insolent too…
…and,
quite rightly, punished!
(Elliot
actually described the pillory as ‘comfy'!).
Broken
Hill
I’d
heard a fair bit about this town (or ‘city’ as it’s called), and it didn’t
disappoint. Another place I’d love to go back to and spend a bit more time
pottering around, as we really only scratched the surface. Yes, a mining town,
but again, that innovative streak folks seem to have in abundance in these
rural towns and villages, was highly conspicuous here. Grand buildings
beautifully done up, a super cool café/restaurant and miner’s memorial built on
top of the slag heap in the middle of town, and a sculpture park about 15
minutes drive out of town to name a few. All in all, a very cool place, which
both Elliot and I really enjoyed.
The old Trades Hall
The miners' memorial (left) and 'Broken Earth' trendy cafe/restaurant on the slag heap. They're illuminated at night! Very cool.
And
some sculptures and beautiful scenery from the ‘Living Desert and Sculpture
Park’…
Daydream
Mine
We
were really lucky to catch this tour actually, and we were so glad we did.
Basically, the 90 minute tour does a really good job of ‘taking you back in
time’ to give you an idea of what it was like mining back in the late 1800’s.
Even with all the information, it was really hard to imagine just how tough
life was back in the ol’ pioneering days, but here are a few snippets…
- The miners were mostly
Cornish, from about 4000 years of generational mining – so they were ‘used
to it’ and certainly built for it…
- …the miners averaged
between 4’6” and 4’8” tall – the mine was built for them, not for us! Tiny
spaces inside!
- They would do every duty
involved in mining and daily living chores, like chopping down trees,
preparing the timber and cutting it to size once in the mine as support
posts, mining itself, winching the full buckets up over 35 metres above
ground, cooking and looking after injured colleagues.
- They did 12 hours on, and
12 hours off.
- They would have to sleep
sitting up because of all the lung damage from the smoke (from blasting
with black powder) and dust of mining (like emphysema, and silicosis)
meant they couldn’t breath lying down. They would usually sink a full
bottle of fortified alcohol, such as port a) because it was cheaper than
water and b) because it opened the airways (and killed the pain). Some
guys would string a rope across their stone ‘room’, and drape their arms over
it to sleep.
- Life expectancy was about
40 years old. If they made it to 45, they were considered old.
- Orphaned boys would work
down there from about 8 to 12 years old – their eyesight was wrecked
within 2 years. If they’d stayed down the mines, they would have been dead
by 18. Miners’ sons didn’t start donw the mines til about 15 years old.
- There was absolutely NO
safety gear – no hats, steel toe capped boots, gloves, nothing. And each
miner was allocated 2 candles per shift (they’d have to buy more with
their wages if they wanted more) which burned half the brightness of
modern candles, and with a lot more smoke.
- They had no machinery
(except a few bits in the later years), and one draft horse (horses drink
too much water, which was super expensive). Absolutely everything was done by hand.
- So why did they do it? Well, yes, it was generational, but the money was exceptionally good back then. About the modern day equivalent of $2000 per week. This went straight back to their families in nearby towns, whom they saw about once a year, if that. Not working, no pay y’see.
Quite
extraordinary. Here are some pics…
Hot and dry. The mine basically chewed up all the woods around this area. It’s now desolate scrub. The mine operated from 1882 to 1889.
 |
Miners’
quarters, where they’d sleep sitting up, propped up against a wall. They’d
finish their 12 hour shift, have something to eat (which their room mate had
cooked), drink their alcohol, and sleep. Wouldn’t wash for over a week (water
was too expensive. Plus, it probably wasn’t de rigeur to wash anyway!)
|
This
was our guide demonstrating how the miners used to split rock, by hand, to
access the silver and zinc (and other precious stuff!). The miners worked in
teams of 3, one guy holding the metal rod (which would start the shift sharp,
and be blunt by the end), one swinging the mega heavy hammer to hit the end of
the rod, and I can’t remember what the other fella did – maybe in charge of
‘lighting’! It might take them one 12 hour shift to split one rock, then break
it down to take it up to the top. They were doing this in half the light of a
modern candle, with heaps of dust and smoke reducing visibility even more. One
wrong swing of that mallet, and I’d take someone’s knuckles straight off, and
that’d be the end of his career. Oh, also, their candles were hand held, and
would often go our because of the ‘back draught’ effect of the wind sucking the
air out of the mine.
An
example of the fine workmanship of the miners – wooden supports, with spare rock used to line the tunnels. Built as
beautifully as the dry stone walls in their homeland.
Certainly
built for the tiny miners – one small hole leading to another tunnel in the
mine.
Silverton
This
is quite a famous ‘ghost town’, as, since deserted long ago (mining
opportunities ran out), it’s become a popular spot for movie and advertisement
making as well as photo shoots. It’s as dead as a doornail, but, again, that
outback innovative spirit, has kept the place an interesting one to visit, with
a couple of old churches, a café, the Mad Max Museum and a number of galleries.
Here
are a few pics of the place…
Elliot in the main street
Made
me smile to think some of the streets still have names (there are only about 15
buildings in the whole place). This is actually a view of the part of town with
the highest density of remaining buildings.
A
beautiful old deserted stone cottage.
No comments:
Post a Comment