Last night’s sunset did end up as being superior to the night before
offering the mauves and blues that Kerry, the camp caretaker, had promised. We
were satisfied after all with our detour to Menindee.
It was after nine o’clock this morning by the time we had packed up, but
then time was irrelevant, because we subsequently passed in and out of other
time zones. Broken Hill decided some time ago to do its own thing about time,
and since most of its ties were with South Australia with the rail link for ore
export, and those initial settlors coming across the border from the west, the
powers that be decided to share the same time zone as South Australia rather
than those on the same latitude north and south in New South Wales.
So if I told you how long it takes to drive that bitumen road back to
Broken Hill, and how long we spent refuelling with both diesel and water, and
then what time we had lunch on the road fifty kilometres south of the city, you
would simply be confused. I realise I have contradicted myself regarding the
water supply; we had been reluctant to simply rob water from this city so
finding it available at the Information Centre was a bonus.
So instead I will just say that our route back to Broken Hill was
uneventful, even without the scurrying of sun seeking lizards.
As we headed away for the second time from Broken Hill we passed through
southern parts of the town hitherto unvisited and seemingly more attractive.
However we did wonder about the prevailing winds and the dust storms that do still
occur from time to time, even if they are fewer and less ferocious than those
in the earlier part of last century.
And speaking of wind, we struggled along against it as we drove first
north west and then south, as it blew in from the west. Fuel consumption will
not work out very well when we next do our calculations.
We stopped for lunch near Pine Creek, pulling in down off the road to an
area that is strictly for dry weather use. The first official rest area on this
road to Wentworth is this one, 137 kilometres south of Broken Hill and a pretty
spot too.
As we wandered about scouting for the best level spot here at the edge
of Lake Popiltah, we chatted with a couple who had called in about four years
ago; then the lake was bone dry and sheep grazed what little growth had
appeared. Apparently it was like that for fourteen years. This lake is one of
many that make up the flood lands of the Great Darling Anabranch mentioned a
day or so ago as one of the outlets of the Mendindee Lake system. Unlike the
Menindee Lakes, the birds here are less, just the pied butcherbirds,
apostlebirds and noisy miners, but they all delight and I am well
satisfied. The lake is surrounded by black box eucalypts and the trees that
provide shelter here are white cypress pines. We are parked immediately
adjacent to the road however the traffic will soon abate I am sure.
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