Day 15.01 - Monday 3 July 2006

We read up on some interesting facts:

‘“Welcome to Kalgoorlie-Boulder” reads the sign at the edge of this remarkable town, located 597 km east of Perth. Here is a town built on gold over 100 years ago and is still basically driven by the same metal to this day. It is a prosperous town, with two city centers, Kalgoorlie and Boulder. Hanna Street in Kalgoorlie and Burt Street in Boulder are a feast of superb 19th and early 20th century buildings, which are still largely intact and well maintained.’

‘Hannan Street, Kalgoorlie’

‘Exchange Hotel, Kalgoorlie’

‘Recreation Hotel, Boulder’

Day 15.02

‘Attention was drawn to this area when Arthur Bailey discovered gold near Coolgardie in 1892. The following year Paddy Hannan, Tom Flanagan and Daniel Shea discovered alluvial gold nuggets near Mount Charlotte, when they were forced to camp out unexpectedly after their horse lost a shoe.

On June 17, 1893 Paddy Hannan registered his claim, and within 3 days an estimated 700 men were prospecting in the area. This was the gold rush to beat all gold rushes.’

‘Paddy Hannan gave this town its gold. Now quenches passerby's thirst’

Day 15.03

And now for some plagerism...

‘In the early days the town was simply named Hannan’s or Hannan’s Find. Hannan’s find drew attention to an area containing an ore body that later became known simply as “The Golden Mile”.

Today there are about 50 mines operating within the Goldfields district. About half of these are gold mines, including the massive Super Pit, which exploits the most productive square mile of gold-bearing ore ever discovered anywhere in the world. Nickel, chrysoprase, copper, granite, lime, salt, sand and silver are also of industrial interest here.’

About the Super Pit:

‘The massive Super Pit, Australia’s largest open cut gold mine was established in 1989 and was the brainchild of Allan Bond. Western Australia supplies 75% of Australia’s total gold productions and about 8% of the world’s gold production.

It takes seven 220-tonne truckloads of rock to produce a 2-ounce nugget.

More than 50,000,000 ounces of gold have already been mined on the golden mile.

About 85 million tonnes of ore and waste are removed per year – that’s 232,000-tonnes per day.

Ore carrying trucks used at the Super Pit are the biggest of their type in use in an Australian gold mine. The new Cattepillar 793C costs $4,000,000 each. They weigh a massive 376-tonnes and are 6.4m high and 7.4m wide. They travel at a top speed of 54.3 km and carry 220-tonnes of ore in one load. Each tyre costs $26,000 to replace.

The Super Pit’s mine life is further estimated at a further 16 years. At that time the size of the pit will be 3.8 km long, 2km wide and half a kilometer deep and more than 17 million ounces of gold will have been extracted.”

At the Super Pit lookout I see, again, that a little boy’s fascination with big toys starts early. As soon as he could get away from mum he made a beeline straight towards it.

‘Little boys, big toys’

‘The Super Pit – a very big hole’

Day 15.04

Not long after, the little boy inside the man with whom I travel through life made a similar beeline.
He saw the big Caterpillar trucks as they were being transported into Kalgoorlie, and followed. They made the long road train that carried them look rather small.

‘he saw the big truck and followed’

‘little wheels, big wheels’

‘the ‘CAT’ hardly fits’

Day 15.05

About the water:

‘The average rainfall in Kalgoorlie is 250mm per year, hardly enough to sustain a bustling gold mining town. It was called the “Scheme of Madness” when Charles Yelverton O’Connor, born in Ireland in 1843 and Western Australian engineer-in-chief, proposed, in 1895, to build a pipeline to carry water from Perth to Kalgoorlie, a distance of 563 km. Sadly, subjected to a vicious press campaign, O’Connor committed suicide in March 1902. His suicide note included detailed instructions on the construction of the pipeline, which was completed the following year. The water travels from the Perth hills and takes about 10 days to get here. It was originally powered by steam powered stations to pump the water uphill. The pipeline assured the survival of Kalgoorlie and Boulder. Today it is more likely to be described as a “Life line”.’

Day 15.06 - Monday 10 July 2006

We bush camp a little north of Kalgoorlie in a quiet spot, with red earth, green shrubs and trees, and plenty of sky. The best thing about bush camping is that one doesn’t need to go chasing the sunrise or the sunset. Just find a ‘nice spot’ and wait. It’ll happen all by it self. The sun will come up in the morning and tickle your cheeks awake, if the birds, enthusiastically greeting the new day, haven’t gotten to you yet. No need to race to find the perfect shot. Just enjoy the day. Before you know it, the sun will begin to set, and there’s your light show. Each day displays a different colour scheme. Different patterns entice the photographer, as well as just an observer.

‘find a nice spot’

‘a good morning peck’

‘light show’

Day 15.07

The ground consists of what can best be described as a fine sandy mixture of dried flaking earth that in places takes on the appearance of an elephant’s hide. Some parts of it are entirely covered by black pebbles, some the size of a pinhead.

‘flaking earth’

‘elephant’s hide’

‘entirely covered by black pebbles’

Day 15.08

In this part of the ‘red outback’ our companions are quite small, of the 6 or 8-legged variety. They build intricate structures for their homes. Some take the shape of a crater, or a volcano like mound that is about one inch high. Others seem to be mud structures that tower up to 3 inches.

‘a volcano like mound’

‘towering mud structure’

Day 15.09

Be intrigued at the webs that coat the surrounds of mounds. Consider the trap door spider that conceals the entrance to his house with a door on the ground. It looks almost like an oyster shell.

‘fine webs coat the surrounds...’

‘...of another mound’

‘I guess the occupant is home, we better not disturb’

Day 15.10

Even the trees seem to change colour throughout the day, as the sun changes its aspect. Where one minute you would swear the trunk of the tree you are looking at is a silvery white and the leaves that perch on the ends of its limbs glisten with green hues, a little later the trunk appears bronze and the leaves a tinkering copper.

‘bronzed trunks’

Day 15.11

A short way off to the west of us runs the railway. The train engines that clatter along it pull their many carriages, loaded with all sorts of things. From rocks and earth and moving equipment to fuel and water. A long way off to the east is the main highway. Its position is given away by the hum of the traffic that subsides after dusk and reinvigorates at dawn.

All in all, providing you have plenty of water, a most perfect place. But you’ll hear me saying that just about every where. I’m just a diehard optimist. I tend to see things in their most positive light. Lucky me!

Radio West informs us that the weather forecast for the week is fine, fine, fine, and cold.

Day 15.12 - Sunday 16 July 2006

It is not always practical, and perhaps it could even be perceived as rude, to casually take photos of people. So, in order to satisfy at least one of our followers on the blog, I will try to describe what I see, as objectively as I can. Denny (if you are reading this) this is for you:

“It’s big enough to be able to get whatever you need here, but still small enough to remain a friendly little country town. Just the way I like it.” a young female shop attendant so rightfully pointed out on our first day here. Kalgoorlie certainly is a prosperous mining town. Many young mums with toddlers in pushers, often expecting another little addition, walk together with their girlfriend, who is also pushing a pram, or will be soon. As Greta, another friendly soul who was named after her grandmother, said: “They say that there must be something in the water in Kalgoorlie. It makes all the women pregnant.” She wasn’t kidding.

There are many, many children here. And hence, many a kindergarten and primary school, practically one on every corner. And from what I can see, a great deal of little girls. There is a little body wearing pink (and purple) just about everywhere I look. ‘Thank heaven for little girls, for little girls get bigger every day.’

Young teenage girls walk together, their hair coloured black with a few streaks of pink or deep violet, goth-style, through long straightened tresses. They would appear to be all grown up, as they furiously sms with their friends on their mobiles and window shop for the latest fashions, but for the lolly-pops in their mouths, or the skate boards some skillfully negotiate along the wide footpaths. They wear hipster jeans and skimpy singlet tops that accentuate their perfect youthful bodies. The mid-afternoon sun can be quite warm. And, if it’s a bit too cold in the morning, then ugg-boots seem to appear indiscriminately on everyone.

Teenage boys hang around together in small groups rolling back and forth on their BMX bikes, close to the takeaway shops. (Growing young men need the security of food close at hand.) And then there are the working men. Miners, truck drivers, the guys in utes, and all the others that enable this town and its main activity to continue and prosper. They are strong and tough. But you’ve got to have your wits about you, for they always have a joking remark at the ready.

I love to sit and observe the passers by. Today I am parked just outside of a bakery and a baby store. Since Chewie left me here not more than a half an hour ago, 3 new prams have walked out and a proud grandad has just fitted a new baby seat into the back of his 4-wheel drive. In goes another pregnant young woman and her mum to get that all important stuff for the expected new arrival.

The aboriginal people here are in a minority. A couple on a Sunday morning walk with their toddler in a pusher, dad at the helm. They are obviously not ‘well off’’, but they are certainly clean and neatly dressed. Talking and laughing together as a young family should. They wave a happy ‘hello’.

Somewhere else, on the outskirts of town, in the midst of old truck tyres, scrap metal, old chairs and mattresses a group of aboriginal people surround a large fire. Most of them with a paper bag (bottle or can inside) in their hands. They get a visit by the local police, as we pass by. And no doubt, from the body language of the young officers keen to assert their authority, get asked to ‘move on’. Their greeting to us confirms that: ‘mind your own business, you bloody whities’.

In the heart of town an elderly couple is drawn to the intriguing depth of sound and rhythm and search for coins to drop into a wicker bowl on the pavement, when they round the corner and see a young boy standing outside the supermarket playing his didgeridoo. It is almost as tall as he is.

Kyle and Keenan both think it’s quite funny, judging by the smirks on their faces, that we are so interested in them. Kyle also paints “Nanna taught me. That’s my hand, to say ‘hello’.” And he points to his works of art.

‘Kyle plays his didgeridoo to earn some extra money while on school holidays’

‘they think it’s funny that we are so interested’

‘Kyle’s work of art’

Day 15.13

A young girl, I’m guessing at no more than in her early twenties, struggles with her shopping trolley and two small children. Her hair is unkept. She wears thongs on her dusty feet. Both children, a toddler and a preschool-age girl, sit inside the trolley, amidst copious cans and boxes. The youngsters wear thongs and only shorts and t-shirts, even though it is only 2.5degrees.

A woman arrives at the ATM for some cash. She wears high-heeled court shoes with a smart black pant-suit. Her shoulder length hair is cut in the latest style. Her make-up and jewellery are subtle and elegant. In the latest model 4-wheel drive she pulled up in sit her husband, her teenage son with earphones nodding his head rhythmically to his ipod, and young daughter fidgeting with her hair. Several new carry bags from up-market clothes shops are draped over the back seat.

A youth walks alone, crumpled denim shirt, red knitted hat pulled right down over his head, kicking stones, sometimes picking them up and then throwing them away, aimlessly.

A man with dust on his shoes and his ute, sunnies on the top of his head and a newspaper under his arm, stops at the café for a bacon and eggs breakfast.

A middle aged woman hurries along the footpath in a most efficient manner carrying office files. While a young woman at the information center greets the tourists and helps out with cheerful advice.

An old man stumbles between a tree and a pub. His whole appearance is disheveled, torn and dirty.

A man, who is in town for a short while to pick up supplies, weasels five bucks out of Chewie to have his picture taken. “You’re not going to see a face like this in Melbourne, mate.” he says. He claims to be a painter who spends his time teaching the young ones about his art and the dream time.

There is a wide array of social status. And attitude. And I guess, ultimately, no matter what tribe you come from - black, white, red, yellow, brown or pink with purple spots, it’s all up to your attitude.

"...you won’t see a face like this in Melbourne"

no, not for $5.00...

Day 15.14

We headed out of Kalgoorlie last weekend for a ‘Captain Cook’ (to take a look) a little further north towards Menzies, some 130 kms away. About 20 minutes out of Kalgoorlie a few bikers overtook us. As many people do. Including many a road train. That’s truck with a trailer, and a trailer, and in some cases, another trailer. They rode ‘easy rider’ style along the highway, which runs along the rail road. The sign pointed left to Broad Arrow. The bikers turned left. We turned left. It has been our experience, in Victoria, that bikers know of the best country pubs. It would appear that that theory applies in the West as well.

‘Broadie’, as they call it, was established in 1896. And it serves a mean burger. “Another midi, mate?” asks the barmaid. Sandy and Neil have had the pub since 1986. Whoever stops by is welcome to leave their name on the wall. Providing a space on the wall can be found. They will even provide you with a pen. “You should see some of them. They come in with ladders to reach up to the ceiling. Literally hanging of the rafters.” We add our names to the walls thick with graffiti: ‘Walkabout Rubblesby 2006’ and ‘Watson 2006’.

‘Broadie - est 1896’

‘we add our names to the walls’

Day 15.15

The bikers stopped by for lunch and to relax outside in the sun. Locals stop by for a midi and a chat, or to catch a ride back to town with an obliging soul. Some watch the telly, others, like Chewie and I, shoot a few games of pool. Everyone is moving slow, except for those tending bar. An old, faithful dog lies near the warmth of a wood fire stove, unperturbed. The jukebox plays country songs and bids the tapping of toes, at least mine.

‘bikers relax in the sun’

‘The fastest barman in the west’

Tough 'House Rules'

Day 15.16

We continue to head north, on the now unsealed road, to Ora Banda. The sign reads: “Siberia 19 km”. Who could resist an invitation like that. We’ve been to ‘Biddleonia’, why not Siberia?

‘The road to Siberia’

‘Siberia 19km’

Day 15.17

“To Hell or Siberia” reads the information plaque. “The rush was a failure of Frost, and so great a one that ‘Siberia’ was the only word adequately to express the chagrin of the men who hoped so much from its discovery. Being one of these myself I can cordially endorse the appropriateness of the name…

Siberia was said to be 70 miles of dry stage, and yet off we all started, as happy as kings at the chance of mending our fortunes. Poor Crossman (since died), McCullogh, and I were mates, and we were well off, for we had not only our ‘Little Carnegie’, who, like his master had been earning his living at Bayley’s, but a camel, ‘Bungo’ by name, kindly let by Gordon Lyon. Thus we were able to carry water, as well as provisions, and helped to relieve the sufferings of many a poor wretch who had only his feet to serve him.

Men in sore straits, with swollen tongues and bleeding feet, we saw and happily, were able to relieve.” (David Carnegie, ‘Spinifex and Sand’, 1898)

“The origin of the name is uncertain, but in a book on the Goldfields, by Duke Stewart, the author wrote that J.S. Christie told him how ‘Siberia’ was named: ‘A swagman struck the track near the Carnage and cut on a tree the words ‘To Hell or Siberia’.”

Of the miners only disused shafts and rusted old tin cans remain.

A row of graves each bordered by white quartz rocks, a sign with the names of those buried there, is all that remains of the original settlement. The grave on the very end, half hidden under the scrub is the smallest. On it lies a baby angel. Tears would well in many an eye with the thought of life, and death here.

‘rusty can’

‘baby angel’

‘Afghan cameleers saved many lives during the ill-fated rush to Siberia’

Day 15.18

We finally made it to Menzies and to Ted’s great surprise we came across another driving bear. Of course, Ted thinks he’s doing all the driving, sitting right up front, nose to the windscreen. But it looks like this bear has been stuck in ‘park’ for quite some time.

‘another driving bear’

‘stuck in ‘park’’

‘and a road shot for Denny – as requested’

Day 15.19

Menzies is on the edge of the Western Australian wild flower country. And although not due to start flowering until August, many of the trees and bushes, as well as the flowers, are already sporting new blooms. I will let Chewie show you, rather than trying to describe them in all their complexities. In this case, ‘a picture tells a thousand words’. (For the connoisseurs, these are in a 1600 by 1200 resolution)

Day 15.20 Some 1600x1200's

Day 15.21 Some 1600x1200's

Day 14.01 2nd July 2006

Balladonia – also referred to as Biddleonia in these parts, and by the sounds of it not just by Chewie and myself – is the place most famous for the Sky Lab crash back in the 1970’s. As well as ‘Balladonian Marbles’. What started as single grains of sand some 2,000,000 years ago, had each collected various materials along the way to form almost perfectly round stones. “Someone lost their marbles here2 million years ago, and they’ve been calcifying ever since.” was Chewie’s comment. He continued: “ Too bad that Sky Lab missed the roadhouse.” Having arrived on a Saturday evening, the roadhouse and adjoining hotel was full of ‘yobos’. A perfect example of beer drinking, fight picking and generally obnoxious Australian males. Needless to say, we were out of there like a flash at first light.

‘Balladonian Marble’

Day 14.02

Blackened trunks of dead trees in the morning light lend an eerie feeling as we drive through patches of bush, where fires have left their mark.

‘blackened trees’

Day 14.03

They contrast the lush greenery of the Foster Ranges, where he stood at the edge of the road. He eyed the van cautiously as we pulled up and switched off the motor. A few seconds passed as we watched each other in silence. His coat was thick and his snout sniffed high at the wind. When he was satisfied that there was no danger, the dingo calmly crossed the road, just a few yards in front of us. When he reached the other side he paused, as if to pose to ‘have his picture took’, before his sharp ears picked up the sound of an approaching truck and he disappeared into the under-scrub of the bush.

‘he paused, as if to pose to “have his picture took”’

Day 14.04

A little further down a sign beckons us off the main road again: ‘The Foster Sheep Station – An Oasis in the Desert’. What would appear to be an old sheep station converted, in a most romantic way, to provide accommodation with a difference. Corrugated iron shacks are intertwined with curved paths, neatly lined with stones, and intermingled with bright welcoming blossoms. Old rusty wheel barrows and wagon wheels are placed strategically for that added authenticity. Bird feeders in the center garden provided a richness of sound and moving colour. The lady who came up to say ‘hello’ would have been at least in her late fifties, but her youthful exuberance hid her years. “We’re just cleaning up. We had a Camp-oven party last night. Ended up with 26 of us. I’m sorry you missed it. The more the merrier, you know.” She was trim and fit. Her pink jumper matched her fluffy pink and purple scarf and pearly pink lipstick. Her blue eyes twinkled through her suntanned smiling face, framed by her blonde hair. We agree, it is a very pretty place indeed. Had we known, we would not have bothered stopping in ‘Biddleonia’. “We came for two weeks. That was 18 months ago. We really love it here. It really is an ‘Oasis in the Desert’!”

‘Foster sheep station – An Oasis in the Desert’

Day 14.05

A few miles before Norseman a large red hill, which looked purple from a distance, displays its geological composition. Shimmering in every shade of red, bronze and gold. “Maybe there’s gold in them there hills.” I try for a witty comment.

‘a large red hill, which looked purple from the distance – shimmering in every shade of red, bronze and gold’

Day 14.06

Soon the signs on the side of the road begin to welcome us to Norseman. “Fresh fruit and veggies in town”. “Great.” We think to ourselves, having eaten all our veggies and fruit before the quarantine checkpoint at the South Australian - Western Australian border. It has been over 700 km since these types of luxuries had been available. “ATM & Bank in town center”, “Supermarket & Newsagent”, “Internet access”. “And hopefully a decent computer.” Chewie hopes.

‘signs leading to Norseman’