3 March 2013 - Glenariff Rest Area, Mitchell Highway, NSW

We left Forbes at about 9 am this morning, even allowing for a chatty fellow camper and his marmoute dog, the latter which smelt yet shared the small space of the caravan with his owners. (I continue to be astounded by the number of fellow nomads who travel with their canine companions, even more so when the dog is anything bigger than a lapdog.)

The shops were still all shut, their owners making the most of the one rest day left to country town folk however there were dozens of middle aged people, presumably service club members, out and about with gloves on and carrying rubbish sacks, patrolling the entire town picking up litter. We called out a big “Thank you” to them as we pulled out of the park after having topped up our water tank, and can only repeat our gratitude here for this excellently friendly and welcoming RV friendly town.

Parkes is only thirty three kilometres up the road, situated on the inland Newell Highway and the main rail that crosses the entire continent. With a population of about 15,000 folk, I had expected a much busier place however it was Sunday morning and as we drove up through the sleepy main street, we noted that little was open apart from the national chainstores. Entering the CBD from the southern end, I was reminded of Orange which lies further to the east. We are earlier here than we were in Orange the year before last and so the leaves on the deciduous trees in Parkes are not as advanced in their decay but there was still the sense of deja vue.

Parkes started its life simply as Bushmans after gold was discovered in 1862, but when the famous Sir Henry Parkes poked his nose about the place in 1873, when he was then Prime Minister of New South Wales, the town was renamed Parkes in his honour. Interestingly Parkes was the first town in Australia to adopt a sister city; in this case it is Coventry where the same Henry Parkes was born.

Today Parkes thrives as an inland hub of Australia’s transport network, as well as being the urban support centre for mining activity in the area, particularly the Northparkes Mine. It is also an important rural centre for the agricultural activities in the surrounding district; wool and mutton, wheat, barley, canola, oats, oilseeds and winter legumes. The annual Elvis Festival is held here, the sort where everyone wears plastic wigs and pretends to look like Elvis Presley or his sidekick, Priscilla. I am not sure when this is held; I am just glad it wasn't while we were there.

In all fairness, we spent little time in Parkes and to say that I liked Forbes more than the larger town probably does Parkes a disservice, so I shall say no more.

We headed on further north along the Newell Highway, passing the CSIRO Parkes Radio Telescope which stood out clearly on the farmland to the east; a 64 metre steel paraboloid balanced on a three storey concrete tower. There is an information centre there where one can learn all about matters celestial and more, however we had visited a similar site when we travelled up through Narrabri so carried on, passing by the entry to the Peak Hill mine entrance which is today just a tourist centre.

This historic mine operated between 1893 and 1917 producing about 60,000 ounces of gold fom 500,000 tonnes of rock. Later, between 1996 and 2002, a company called Alkane Exploration had another go at it and managed to extract 145,000 ounces from 4.9 million tonnes of rock. No doubt at some time in the future when there are even more sophisticated techniques, someone else will have another go at pulling more wealth from the tailings. As I have said before, we are rather golded out and so left the experience for others, for now at least.

Peak Hill is definitely a has-been town, obviously of substance when the mine was operating but now jaded and faded and a good comfort stop, which is what all we did.

A little to the north of Peak Hill, we turned north west and cut through to Narromine, avoiding the longer trek around through Dubbo. Narromine doesn’t even get a mention in our Bible and yet is such a pretty town, situated on the Macquarie River. We stopped at the Rotary Park and had coffee, a pick-me-up before pressing on. Narromine is yet another rural service town of the Oran region of New South Wales. 

We had encountered very little road kill apart from the odd roo, but had seen, to our delight, several emu in the paddocks adjacent to the road and had to brake at one point for a small tortoise bravely crossing the highway.

The Mitchell Highway from Narramine through to Nyngan, the whole 125 kilometres is as straight as can be, running alongside the rail line that carries on to Cobar. We stopped about halfway at a small place called Nevertire to have lunch. There was a café and a pub and the rail station beside the grainstores that were a familiar sight right along the route.

Our camp beside the road

We pulled into Nyngan on the Bogan River, welcomed by a large sign “Gateway to Nyngan and the Great Outback”,  in the hope that the museum situated at the Railway Station might be open. Alas not; only Monday to Friday. Here apparently there is an excellent display of photos and other memorabilia celebrating Nyngan’s one claim to fame. In 1990 the entire population were airlifted to safety by helicopter when the Bogan River inundated the town. This was very big news however I personally have no memory of it at all. I guess for some it was and will be the only chance they ever had in their life for a helicopter ride.

Had we continued west we would have arrived at Cobar and from there we could have continued on roads already travelled and arrived again at Broken Hill, however that was not our plan. Instead we turned onto the road to Bourke, another long straight road on a couple of hundred kilometres, again following a rail line but this one seemingly unused.

Our camp site is about halfway and as I write this, we are alone but for a wild boar carcass up the other end of the rest area attracting flies. The sun has come out at last and hopefully will charge up the batteries via the solar panel. That always cheers my husband up however it is never enough for me. I am restricted with my computer and internet use under such conditions, however I do love the freedom of such roadside camping.