The sign at the highway rest area sounded exciting. A self-drive trail to historic mining towns, only 20klm of dirt road and the promise of something called the Ballara Springs, which, on another 37 degree day, was just the carrot I needed. Another early start, but a wrong turn, saw me going into a blinding morning sun, and head to head with B-treble ore trucks. Pointed helpfully to the right turn-off, the correct road was a quiet relief, and it wasn’t long before before the first location/information board loomed up. Now, I know Mary Kathleen was essentially, a demountable town, but clearly I was hoping for at least some tangible ruins from these truly historic locations.
But the village of Bulonga was clearly no longer….at all. The information board laid out the town map but obscured only empty paddocks, scrub and a few disinterested cows. Promoting tourist attractions that USED to be tourist attractions is a ‘novel’ approach, but disappointment soon becomes your new whiny back seat passenger.
But, as they say, life is the journey, not the destination. It was the natural world that provided the excitement along the way. An abandoned weir a little further on and the timing was perfect.
At least the dam wall was partly intact, so I wasn’t being led down some Trumpian rabbit hole. Maybe Ballara, the next ‘town’, would prove better pickings. It was still early morning cool and the breeze through the open windows had no trouble blowing away that disappointment. The cattle grid on the map showed I was about half way there, but didn’t show the welcoming committee that I confronted.
I’d seen camels back at Boulia, but they were almost the family pets. This was a full blown caravan of truly wild camels made up of one male and about a dozen females plus youngins. It seems that Arabian culture possibly thought this was a good arrangement (for the men at least), thus the harem we know today. After sizing me up, they headed up the rise and disappeared over the hill but in the sort of direction I was heading. Maybe we’d meet again. I dawdled along in 4th gear for about half a click and there they were, coming out of the scrub.
They had mosied onto the dirt road. I thought that would be the highlight and let’s move on. Even though they could have escaped in any direction as the Jeep approached, for some reason, they did a complete 180 and started to run ahead of me.
So, if you’ve ever heard the expression, “the arse end of a camel” used somewhat disparagingly, now you know what one looks like, and you can be suitably offended if it happens that YOUR at the camel arse end of that remark. Eventually, they tired of being corralled and dropped off to the side. Another few k’s, another big sign – Welcome to Ballara. Lots of information, and this time, I could at least see where a few buildings had once been, including the old railway platform.
It was starting to really warm up, and whatever Ballara Springs was, it was sounding increasingly attractive. Still, there was one more stop, the Hightville Tunnel near another ‘faux’ historic town only 4 klm along the railway line. Literally. I met up with my ‘neighbours’ from Clem Walton, also on the hunt. It was 4WD territory all the way, but we finally got there. Through the tunnel, we could see the McGregor mine in the valley below. It looked very imposing and I would have loved to gotten there. However the hill climb back at the turnoff looked even more ‘courageous’. Having just gotten the Jeep back from ICU, I thought better of it…this time.
Perseverance is it’s own reward, and the refreshing water of Ballara Springs was mine. The location was so quintessentially outback Oz. Set at the base of a towering red ochre wall, concealing the blazing sun, the deep pool fed by a cleft in the cliff face. And it was soooo cool.
I was alone, but as you can see, not lonely. It was really quite a special time when you can just sit and ‘be’, surrounded by such natural beauty. It was my last day at Clem Walton. One more leg travelling east would see me at the famous Julia Creek.
