Leaving Broken Hill

Packed up and pointed south. On the way out of town we stopped for the photo we missed on the way in: the big rusted-steel welcome sign, complete with mining silhouettes and a headframe. "Australia's first heritage listed city, established 1883", on Wilyakali country.

The four of us under the Broken Hill welcome sign with the car and caravan The sign we drove straight past on the way in.

Wentworth

First stop was Wentworth, where the Darling runs into the Murray. Three stops in town, starting with the giant blue yabby, Herbie, standing near the Pioneer Museum.

A giant blue yabby sculpture with red-jointed claws Herbie, the Big Yabby of Wentworth.

Stop two was lunch at the junction itself, where the green-brown Darling slides into the Murray. A family of wood ducks worked the grass beside us.

The river junction at Wentworth with dead trees standing in the water Where the Darling meets the Murray.

A family of wood ducks with ducklings foraging on the grass Lunch companions.

On the way out of town we stopped for the restored paddle steamer moored on the Darling and the collection of old machinery keeping it company.

A weathered white paddle steamer moored in a narrow reed-lined channel A restored paddle steamer, tied up on the Darling.

A vintage steam traction engine under a shelter Steam power, retired.

A vintage crawler tractor with rusted tracks and a sign reading Scruffler The Scruffler, and friends.

A heavily rusted vintage road grader on display A grader that has earned its rest.

The Cheapest Diesel of the Trip

Filled up in Wentworth at 285.9 cents a litre, the cheapest we have seen all trip. $200.03 bought almost exactly 70 litres. After the prices further west, it felt like a gift.

The bowser display showing 285.9 cents per litre and a total of $200.03 Proof. 285.9 a litre.

The Road to Mungo

From Wentworth we turned north towards Mungo National Park and checked into our Hipcamp on the outskirts of the park. The last stretch is red dirt.

The road in. Red dirt and nothing on the horizon.

The Mungo Woolshed

Once the van was set up we drove into the park to the visitor centre, and next door to it stands the Mungo Woolshed, the best kind of surprise.

The Mungo Woolshed, a weathered dark-timber shed with lean-to extensions, under a stormy sky The Mungo Woolshed. Built 1869, still standing.

Mega Flocks And Bush Carpentry

The shed was built in 1869 by the Patterson brothers for Gol Gol Station, the pastoral run that covered this country before it became a national park. It is built from local cypress pine in drop-log construction: heavy logs slotted upright between horizontal beams, no fancy joinery, and it has stood in this heat and dust for more than 150 years.

In its working years the station ran mega flocks, and at its peak more than 29,000 sheep were shorn here in a single year. All of it was blade shearing, every fleece taken off by hand, in a shed with no power and no fans, through a Mungo summer. Displays inside cover the pastoralists and the Aboriginal workers who were the backbone of the shed.

It sits where it always sat, next to what is now the visitor centre, cool and dark inside and smelling faintly of lanolin.

A row of antique red cast-iron Lister overhead shearing machines with large drive wheels along a rail inside the woolshed The shearing board. The Lister machines are from the mechanical era; the 29,000-sheep year was all blades.

The long interior of the woolshed, with rough log trusses, timber pens and a central walkway Inside the shed. Cypress pine, corrugated iron, and room for a lot of sheep.

Two people on an elevated wooden lookout deck overlooking a vast flat plain, one photographing the horizon Taking in the plain from the lookout. The camera got a workout today.

Sunset On The Station

Back at the Hipcamp, the owner Tom pointed us to a spot on his property for sunset photos. His family runs over 100,000 acres, so "a spot on the property" involved a short expedition. The spot was a sandy hill that caught the last light beautifully, and the sand was a ledger of everything that had crossed it that day: emu tracks, camel tracks, lizard trails.

The station from the air at sunset. We are the small figures on the sand hill.

A gnarled old tree standing alone in a grassy meadow dotted with wildflowers The paddocks on Tom's place do all right for scenery.

A gnarled tree with sprawling exposed roots on a sandy plain at golden hour Golden hour on the plain. That tree has seen a few.

White paper daisies with yellow centres growing in red sand Paper daisies out on the station.

Pale lilac-pink mallow flowers blooming in dry cracked red soil Mallow in the red dirt. Tough country, delicate flowers.

Wind-rippled sand dunes dotted with shrubs under a bright blue sky The sand hill Tom sent us to. He was right about the light.

The sun setting over an eroded red desert landscape with golden clouds Sunset from the sand hill. Worth the expedition.

Wide-angle view of the sun setting behind a ridge with long shadows across red sand and silhouetted figures on top The wide view. Sun going down behind the ridge.

Sunset over a vast arid plain from an eroded red bluff, with gnarled trees silhouetted against a golden sky One last look from the top. The light did not disappoint.

A trail of emu tracks across wind-rippled sand leading toward the horizon at sunset The last entry in the ledger, written by an emu.

Finished the day the right way: campfire, BBQ, and a sky full of stars. We ran out of time to explore the national park properly this trip, so the plan is an early start tomorrow and the long road home.

A group sitting in camp chairs around a blazing campfire at night, with the camper and car behind Chairs out, fire going. Day ten, done properly.