As close to half-way as I could find, Burra could have been just another sign on the highway, a village un-seeable from the road. Only a chance conversation in Mildura sparked my interest. It was late afternoon when I arrived, and after finding a nook on the village common, soon discovered a town frozen in time – nearly 180 years of time. Established as a mining town in 1845, at seems as though the whole village was built in a short time and, with the mine closing in 1877, unchanged since then.
Shepherd huts to churches, all hewn from local stone, Burra is like one of those pioneer theme towns, except it’s the real thing. Burra grew and then stagnated in the shadow of the Burra copper mine. The remnants are still preserved as part of the Burra Mine Museum.
So, back on the road through serious sheep country and the gold of ripening canola fields. But it wasn’t long before scrub country returned and in the distance a smudge of the Flinders Ranges. Two hours later I rolled into Hawker, spending the night roadside on the outskirts. Tomorrow, I’ll find a base from the many farm stays offering van sites.
