That evening we decided to go to a sculpture park on Sundown Hill just outside the town. Twelve artists from around the world have collaborated on a display of sandstone sculptures reflecting both their country of origin and an overall Australian theme.
There is a longish climb from the carpark up through dry, rocky country to the top of the hill, during which we saw only rock euros (a kind of big-eared kangaroo) grazing in the evening light, and the odd feral backpacker.
The 'disabled' can obtain a key to a locked gate allowing car access to the sculptures, and a remarkable number of presumably mentally-disabled city types were clustered around their gleaming 4 wheel drives when we finally reached the summit on foot.
From the sculpture park the views stretched East to Broken Hill, where the city lights were just coming on in the background, to the distant ranges all around.
We joined the snap-happy tourists looking for photo opportunities in the fading light, some sculptures proving so popular that a queue formed in front of them.
As the sun went down we became aware of the freezing wind, and the long walk down through the rocky gullies in the dark if we stayed around too long. We were quite glad when we finally got back to the warmth and cosiness of our little 'tinnie' in Broken Hill.
The following day we drove 25 km out of town towards the ghost town of Silverton. We had been told about an interesting mine tour at the Daydream Mine, a short side diversion off the route.
The stark countryside around Broken Hill lends itself to films and advertisements - 'Mad Max' was filmed here - and the Daydream road was briefly closed by a film crew with helicopters, cameras and whatnot, filming a Daewoo car advertisement for Korean consumption. For some reason not clear to us, a gleaming new Holden was incorporated in the ads as well.
We stopped and had a coffee from the back of the car, watched by a pair of wedgetailed eagles in a nearby tree. The dirt road surfaces were still moist and so the cars dragged bags of cement beneath them to produce the requisite plumes of dust which invariably denote the 'Outback' in all such car adverts.
Of course no outback dweller in their right mind would purchase such a car but city-dwellers, at least in Australia, seem to want to feel that they could take off into the wide blue yonder at a moments notice. Not sure about Koreans though.
We drove on through several gates, passing the ruins of a smelter off to one side. Crudely hand-lettered signs confirmed the general air of seediness which accompanies private-enterprise tourist venues in this country.
Interestingly, the back side of the signs showed that they were painted on original historic safety notices and the like. One would have thought that these were worthy of preserving - but then again the operators were merely lessees...
Abandoned mining equipment, obviously of superior quality, lay around everywhere and the dilapidated office had a display of tools and photographs.
Donning appropriate lights and headgear, we descended into the blackness of the mine for our guided tour. The owner unfortunately affected the irritating terminally-descending cadence of English TV reporters, but was otherwise a mine of information :(
This mine was established in the 19th century to work silver. Cornish miners walked hundreds of miles to get there, pushing their belongings in a wheelbarrow, to crawl on their bellies by candlelight along tiny horizontal shafts deep underground. Working was entirely manual with pick, shovel and gunpowder for dangerous blasting of the hard rock.
Flimsy wooden pitprops holding up giant boulders added to the general air of claustrophobia and oppressiveness. Turning off our modern lights and viewing the scene by candlelight gave us a small glimpse of what it must have been like to work there.
Miners toiled a 12-hour day for negligible wages, living at the surface in tiny unheated rock 'humpies' about four feet high. Typically they slept in a sitting position due to the coughing of frequently terminal silicosis from the toxic dust.
Children worked from six years old, and were only good underground for about 18 months after which their lungs were ruined and they could only work at the surface, pushing trolleys of ore. The deeper shafts were permanently wet, and miners lay in freezing water all day, adding pneumonia to their list of fatal ailments. Despite these vicissitudes, they moved a staggering volume of ore during the economic life of the mine.
It was a sombre tale, and we emerged with a profound insight into the relative ease of life in the 21st century.
It was a relief to drive on to Silverton in the bright, warm Winter sunlight. We stopped at a roadside park to share our lunch three ways, before driving on into the township itself.
Silverton was established in the late 1800's before Broken Hill, but after its silver mines were worked out it became an abandoned ghost town for many years.
During this time local aborigines ripped out the floorboards and windows from all the historic buildings for use as firewood.
Further damage was caused by general vandalism to the sandstone buildings themselves, and some were even dismantled and transported to Broken Hill for re-erection.
Following the belated interest in Australian heritage values, many of the original buildings have now been partly restored with concrete floors and new windows, for use as art galleries and souvenir shops for the tourist trade. (Emus seem to lend themselves well to caricature.)
Entry to the galleries is invariably by 'donation' however, and we soon grew tired of shelling out money to view repetitive tourist-oriented artworks by, lets face it, fairly mediocre artisans.
Of more interest to Joc were the junk shops selling old bottles and the like, dug up from the surrounding areas. She bought a large bag of old broken potsherds (sold by the kilo) to use in making a mosaic later at home.
We spent our last day in Broken Hill touring galleries and shops. Probably its most famous citizen is Pro Hart, an artist with a distinctive style whose works sell for high prices.
Leah has one on her wall, but we won't tell her how much it is 'worth' in case she feels the need to take out insurance...
Pro is famous for his Rolls-Royces and vintage cars - here is Joc in his carport. Probably the only time a non-factory paint job has increased the value of a Roller!
The gallery also houses a large personal collection of non-Australian art, and has a remarkably relaxed feel to it. Paintings are stacked on the floor against the walls, Turners, Monets and Salavador Dalis hang unglazed with not an armed guard or attendant in sight.