24 July 2016 – where the apostrophe lives

Today we visited Silverton. This mighty metropolis, population 89, used to be a mighty metropolis, population 3,000. I was in charge of breakfast and, though I say it myself, I did our party proud. Suitably fortified we set off.

We had intended to start the day with a visit to the Daydream Mine. The Daydream mine is to the east of Silverton (that is, before you get there). They apparently do a tour at 1000 and 1130. The evening before we had learned that Silverton is on Eastern Time which Broken Hill (which is to the east) is on Central Time (so 30 minutes behind). We factored this piece of contradictory stupidity into our departure time but we had reckoned without the helpfulness of the good burghers of Broken Hill. They had decided not to consistently signpost the Silverton road. This meant making a guess at a road junction and, of course, I made the wrong guess.

The road to Silverton is clearly one that is prone to flooding. That this is so was not immediately apparent to me. There were several signs that said “crest” as we approached the brow of a slight incline. I thought this strange for the road was not more “cresty” than any similar road across Dartmoor and those roads don’t announce their crests. The “crest” signs were soon replaced by “dip” signs. Eventually we worked out that the dips were portions of the road that allowed floodwater to stream across; the alternative civil engineering solution of building a bridge would have been either too expensive or not practicable. This explains the name of at least one emporium in Silverton that is called “Beyond 39 dips”.

I gather that there are 39 dips between Broken Hill and Silverton. I cannot say I counted them nor can I say if there are also 39 crests. It would be interesting to know. Or perhaps not.

Terry and Enid decided that they had already seen one mine too many so we headed to Daydream ourselves. It is reached through about 8 kms of red dirt road and couple of locked gates. One locked gate had a helpful sign saying that they are on Central time. Eventually the mine comes into view presenting itself as a smaller version of Broken Hill, that is, a big heap of rocks with some mine workings on top. There was a building at the top around which were gathered a number of horses. Nothing ventured nothing gained we found the door open. Once inside we were told that a tour had departed at 0930. A guide was coming to do another tour but she could not say when. And, anyway, she needed to get the scones in the oven.

The office at Daydream Mine, complete with welcoming horse.

Daydream Mine, or what's left of it.

On the left you can just make out the ruins of the old town which had a population of 500 but which probably lasted all of  5 minutes.

We weren’t too bothered so we made our way back down the red dirt road and into Silverton. We could see the ruins of the settlement of 500 people that had grown up around the mine. There had been a hotel, police station, butchery and a grocer’s.

We entered Silverton which was not what I had expected, I had expected a small village. What I found was something like Hill End a week before but with even less surviving. Silverton kicked off in about 1975 with the discovery of silver. The Silverton Municipal Council was formed in 1886 but within 12 years it had disbanded and the town presumably began to die. Many of the buildings that were erected were dismantled and taken to Broken Hill so the landscape is bleak with a few buildings scattered around and much space between them. Apart from tourists not a lot happens which is why we were greeted by donkeys roaming the streets.

Silverton: shoppers about their business of a morning.

The crossroads at Silverton: I wonder if they ever have a traffic jam.

We decided to drive through the town as one of the Aboriginal ladies at Wilcannia had said that we should go to Mundi Mundi where there is a lookout. From the lookout you can look out across more land than you can imagine. I tried a photo but it was impossible. The sheer scale just gets lost. We had noticed a sign to Umberumberka Dam. This was a few kilometres up the road and when we arrived we found a dam that was completely empty. It turned out that it had run out of water. When the rains come it will fill up again. Amazing.

At Munid Mundi lookout you can see for miles across the bush but with my photographic skills I did not think a picture would be useful. We did find this memorial.

There was no water in Umberumberka Dam and some wag had written "Where's our fucking water" along the base of the dam wall.

Back at Silverton, we did the tourist stuff. We visited three art galleries (two were uninteresting but one was good and The G made some purchases). We visited the Mad Max museum (the movies were shot nearby). We lunched in the Silverton Hotel (this would be the Silverton business to own I think). The G and I ordered two different types of soup: a pea and ham for her and leek for me. They were indistinguishable and we got them the wrong way round - or at least, I think we did.

The streets of Silverton were littered with odd cars. The rusty jeep at the bottom left is covered with bottle tops.

Our old friend C E Moore.

We visited the Silverton Gaol which is now a museum. This was interesting because adult admission was $4 and concessionary admission (which, as old people, we qualify for) was also $4. Very fair, I say. This museum was a bit like Malcolm’s History Hill. There was so much stuff there that you could not take it in. I did learn, however, that the C E Moore on the foundation stone of our church was one Charles E Moore who was the son of John Moore (died 1919) who with John Pellew founded Pellew and Moore which was Broken Hill’s leading department store. It merged eventually with another store in 1992.

The other fascinating display in the Gaol Museum was of the regalia of the various ancient or antediluvian orders of this and that. There is the Royal Antediluvian Order of Buffaloes, the Independent Order of Rechabites, and the Oddfellows.

There was some of the most pompous gobbledygook dished up in certificates on display. Later I found in Wikipedia that the “Order's honorifics of ‘royal’ when it did not have royal patronage nor a Royal charter, and ‘antediluvian’ when in fact its foundations are of historical record, or that it is an ‘Order’ although it had no standing nor recognition from any house of nobility, are meant to add mock solemnity to its fellowship status and have no more veracity than its having anything to do with the buffalo.”

I did enjoy reading the flowery language and looking at the pictures of men dressed in the most bizarre finery. I learned later that my hero (or one of them) John Wilkes was an Oddfellow. These fellowships exist today and I imagine do much good.

Up to the minute conveniences at the Silverton Gaol.

We had one thing to do before we headed home and that was to see the Silverton Cemetery. This meant a drive up another red dirt road. The cemetery is 42 acres large and a sign told us that the eastern part is still in use. We saw a stone dated 2010 so I guess that is true. The most remarkable thing about the cemetery was not the monuments. It was that there was a veritable plague of hairy caterpillars. These beasts were crawling around everywhere. There were a few monuments but many were broken and, in fact, there were not really any particularly interesting ones. I am not sure how I define ‘interesting’ in relation to cemeteries; I just know when I see it.

Looked like the Hardings were big in Sliverton some years ago.

A plague of hairy caterpillars, probably well-known to entymologists but not to me.

We looked in at Silverton station. On the left is what we found, on the right is what it used to be.

The heart of the city business district, thronged with citizens.

We headed home. The G decided that coffee would be good. I was dubious about coffee at 1600 on a Sunday in Broken Hill. My dubiety was misplaced; we found Temptations and had an acceptable coffee. Then home to chill before I cook dinner. For I am on dinner duty tonight and I shall be cooking up a storm.

A dried-up creek looking to the left and to the right of the road.

The place that we are staying at is well-appointed and large sums of money have been spent on its renovation. Apparently the place was a ruin when the current owners bought it. There was no floor. They seem to have managed to buy a job lot of ecclesiastically styled wooden pillars and have done a sympathetic renovation. The layers of the two foundation stones at the front may well be horrified to learn (were they able to) of the change in use and that fact that alcohol is drunk within a Baptist place of worship. One area where the owners’ sense of taste and design has let them down is in the sinks and tapware. The sink in the bathroom is beautifully proportioned but the tap is such that almost whatever you do water splashes everywhere except into the sink. The kitchen sports double and very deep sinks with a tap that defies description. I have seen these contraptions before and have thought them to be ridiculous. This one is the more so because it will only reach one of the two sinks.

While I am having a ramble there is a fine ceramic-hobbed electric cooker. I am not a fan of electric cooking but this has a strange (to me at any rate) set of controls. The controls are touch sensitive but not to my touch. It’s all hit and miss. There is a “+” sign for each hob but only one “-” sign. Eventually you learn that to turn the thing down you press the “+” of the relevant hob and then press the single “-” button. Weird. Give me gas.

A detail from the church. I don't think these were original. I counted a dozen which I am sure were bought from ebay. This particular pillar has no function; it is purely decorative as you could easily move it.