Broken Hill is the regional base for the Royal Flying Doctor Service, the state-run utility that flies emergency help into remote parts of the outback. I take an inexpensive public tour of the hanger and its facilities. Three planes are in dock, one is on the runway.
Mine tours are a popular attraction – there are three exhibits in the area – including the granddaddy of them all, the Daydream Mine en route to Silverton.
The arts are well-represented in Broken Hill. Over 30 galleries dot the city, a result of the many artists drawn to the clear, bright Aussie light. The Broken Hill Sculptures and Living Desert Sanctuary, nine kilometres west of town, showcases 12 limestone monoliths sculpted by 12 international artists.
And in Sturt Park in the middle of town, the city fathers have erected a memorial to Titanic’s eight-man orchestra, not because any of the musicians came from Broken Hill but because back in 1912 Broken Hill’s musical community felt a kinship with their ill-fated brethren and raised the money to do something about it. That’s the kind of place Broken Hill is, quirky and unconventional.
Back at the Palace Hotel bar, dining on a plate of marinated squid, barramundi and mussels smothered in spaghetti and red chilies, I’m reminded of another theme that permeates “Priscilla Queen of the Desert.” Nothing is exactly as it appears, and while I first thought of Broken Hill as a dusty, non-descript town in the middle of nowhere I soon discovered it’s a cultural and gastronomic oasis with one foot in traditional Aussie culture and the other on the world at large. Civilization on the cusp of the outback and yes, drag queens are welcome.
A Priscilla, Queen of the Desert Pilgrimage in the Australian Outback
Vancouver writer John Thomson specializes in architectural issues, urban design and travel. He writes for broadcast, print and the Web.
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