We passed an excellent evening; another bottle of wine, probably the last until Christmas, and a defrosted pasta meal with salad, the third for me in a week. This too may be the last for a while because pasta is something I love and something Chris could well live without. Shall we simply say it was my week? An excellent rugby result rounded the evening off, especially shared with my parents on Skype who are even more enthusiastic about the game than we are.
I did hear a train or two through the night which reminded us that while Peterborough may no longer be the major cross-rail it was in bygone years, the Indian-Pacific rail still does pass through. I was woken again just before five this morning to the melodious song of a magpie suffering from insomnia and the far off cry of a rooster. Fortunately I slept again, finally waking to 1 degree temperatures and sunny clear skies. In fact the weather has been marvellous all day and promises to continue so all week. I should mention here that we are 535 metres ASL so it is no wonder that we are experiencing colder nights than those on the coast.
Chris discovered a mud map on the wall of the camp kitchen suggesting several interesting drives, which prompted him in turn to suggest we stay another day and explore the region further. And so we did, after unhitching and paying for a further day, the second discounted by 10%.
With lunch packed, we set off toward Broken Hill on the Barrier Highway, then at Oodlawirra, just short of thirty kilometres east of Peterborough, we turned north to Dawson and drove another twenty or so kilometres through the Dawson Gorge, following the bed of a dry river that must sometimes exist. The landscape reminded us of a day trip through the Flinders Ranges we did when we stayed at Wilpena Pound some time ago, although the sides of the gorge were somewhat lower. Here in Australia, the word “cliff” is used very loosely, and does not necessarily suggest the high dangerous cliffs I remember as a child; cliffs that caused death to sheep, cattle and small children if we foolishly were to stray. Here “cliff” can mean “low bank”.
Arrival at Dawson was marked by the ruins of the hotel, and a couple of churches, the latter two boarded up and relatively intact from an exterior viewpoint. The stone walls of the pub draw the curious in, to wander through the knee high weeds and imagine the function of each room. It could be restored or at least kept from further ruin if a roof were put over, however I suspect it will slowly disintegrate as so very many remnants of homesteads and farm sheds right through this part of the State already have.
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| Remains of Dawson's Hotel |
We wondered about the genesis of Dawson, now that there seems to be just one homestead nearby and the farmland a little neglected, but found no clues. Surely there had been mining? Surely a few scattered farms could not warrant two churches, a hall (which looks like it might have been used in the last twenty years or even more recently) ? It was only after we arrived back at camp and I fired up this machine that I learned it really had only ever been the small centre of a farming community, and as such had a post office, a school, an Athletics Club, a Cricket Club, a Football Club, a Institute, a store, a blacksmith, and so on. The area was initially settled in the 1870s and was to have been a wonderful wheat growing region. It was for a few years and then Australia’s weather cycles put paid to that. There was hope at one time that the rail might come on through however Terowie got that honour. It was a place of hope and disappointment as so many places have been, especially through South Australia.
In 1894 gold was discovered at nearby Mt Grainger; this did bring a surge in the population but was not enough to put Dawson on the map. And so it has continued to be a farming area, neither prosperous nor otherwise, and a place to tantalise those who bother to drive the rough tracks through.
A small plaque beside the road advised the pub had closed down in 1961, which isn’t really that long ago.
We drove back toward Peterborough on a more direct route then turned once more toward Broken Hill, this time turning south toward Burra. Twenty kilometres on, we pulled into the historic town of Terowie, this the place of where the varying rails met and where the hardworking inhabitants of the town transferred the freight from one system to another. Amazingly there is a photo of wagons of iron ore, taken in 1909, being transferred to the different gauge for transport on down to Adelaide. When we visited Broken Hill, we did understand that the iron ore had always been transported through to Port Adelaide for export, but had not realised about the complicated transfers required en route!
The area was taken up in the 1850s by graziers despite warnings that the soils and climate were unsuitable for farming. The town was founded in 1875 by a private leaseholder, John Mitchell, who died a few years later. By 1881 the population had reached almost 700, just one year after the rail had come through. This coincided with mineral discoveries and mining operation across the State border in Broken Hill and Silverton, and so Terowie became a centre from which supplies were drawn and to which produce was delivered.
The railway yards at Terowie were immense, extending for a length of almost three kilometres and included workshops, engine shed, shunting lines, a turntable, and the transhipping yards. The population numbered just over 2000 at its peak.
During the years 1941 to 1946 there was a further increase in activity due to the establishment of a large military camp in and around the town to cope with the transhipping of men and materials to the north.
In 1969, the broad gauge line was extended from Terowie to Peterborough and the station became a whistle stop. With its major employment base gone, the town’s population declined rapidly to about 130. The Barrier Highway constructed at the same time, bypassing the town; Terowie’s shops and stores closed and it appeared it would become a ghost town. Almost all the workings and buildings in the railway years were removed and demolished from the mid-1960s onwards.
In 1985 Terowie was designated a Historic Town, one of only seven in South Australia. Today there are excellent interpretative panels about the town and along the rail line to the cemetery, a trail we walked in the sunshine and past several flowering cherry trees, and learned more about the towns past. It is also an RV Friendly town, offering free camping and good facilities but nowhere really to spent the money such a plan should include.
Along the track we came up close and personal to a Shingleback or sleepy lizard and enjoyed the small flocks of mallee parrots. We had stopped on our way into Dawson to greet a Shingleback; he had been enjoying the sunshine on the bare road. This one in Terowie was not quite so delighted with our attention.
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| Feisty Shingleback |
There are some wonderful old buildings left standing but most are desperately in need of restoration or demolition. Some have been lovingly restored and are occupied, others are also occupied but possibly by squatters or at least that is the impression one gets.
From here we drove back to Peterborough by an alternate and more direct route, and in doing so distanced ourselves from the masses of wind turbines we had seen earlier to the south of the town. Later I learned that there are thirty eight turbines near Hallet, which is in turn about thirty three kilometres south of Terowie.
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| Views over Peterborough |
Back in Peterborough we called for the second time into the Information Centre which is, unsurprisingly located in an old railway carriage. I picked up a couple of self-drive leaflets which would have been more useful had we called this morning. There we were encouraged to take in the award winning tourist attraction, the Sound & Light Show at the Steamtown Heritage Rail Centre. We had already decided not to do this, having picked up most of the history which interested us in our own travels about the area. Instead we headed up to the lookout to the north of the town and the Greg Duggan Nature Reserve, ten hectares of scrub and fir trees. From here we enjoyed distant but expansive views over Peterborough before heading back to camp to quietly pass the rest of the afternoon.
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