Day four of my outback tour and I woke in a tent on the banks of the Darling river, on a campsite near Wilcannia. As the sun rose, a procession of pelicans cruised past and gathered at a bend in the river a little way upstream. Or possibly downstream.
After breakfast and a rousing chorus of Waltzing Matilda, since we were camped by a billabong, we set off. Today's destination was Broken Hill. We stopped briefly at the truck stop at Little Topar before arriving at Broken Hill late in the afternoon.
We decided to head up to the memorial above the town, which sits on what looks like, and may be, a huge hill of mining spoil. Mining has been the reason for Broken Hill's existence and, being a dangerous game, many have died over the years. The memorial commemorates them, personalised plaques accompanied by silk roses on a board many metres long. A steady stream of visitors comes and goes, perhaps there out of curiosity or perhaps looking for the name of a lost relative.