To Mildura on to Broken Hill

Alighting from the ferry that transported us and our car and caravan across a few hundred kilometres of Bass Strait, we found ourselves driving through inner-city Melbourne at 6:30 in the morning. There’s something surreal about watching your surroundings come into light as the day begins. The journey northwards commenced immediately, and the first night was spent in the back yard of wonderful friends Andrew and Pip in Gisborne. It was a perfect start to such a long trip – homely, welcoming, comfortable and relaxing.

One of Pip and Andrew's beautiful puppies.

We had decided that the ideal distance for a leisurely day’s drive with the caravan was about 300 kilometres, which made the following day’s goal to reach the small rural town of Sea Lake in northern Victoria. Just before Sea Lake, however, is an even smaller town called Berriwillock. What’s significant about this place is that my Mum was raised here as a little girl in the 1920s, along with her many brothers and sisters. As well as the pub, a few very large grain silos and the homes of 30 residents, Berriwillock has Mill’s General Store. I remember Mum telling us stories about Mr Mills’ store, as it was a vital part of life in such a small town. But today it is sad to see “Closed” and “For Sale” signs in the window. Just outside were an elderly couple doing some gardening in the hot midday sun, so I approached them to enquire. They’d bought the business from Mr Mills a few years ago after coming out from England seeking a new life in the sun, but had struggled to make a living from it. The story made us grateful but sad to think that our superannuation was successfully working for us but the future for this couple was not looking so rosy. A scenario typical of small Australian rural towns.

Mills' General Store, Berriwillock (now closed)

After already doing 300 kms, we decided to push on another 200 kms to Mildura, and stay for two nights to justify the 500 km day. The land had become flat and featureless to the horizon, covered with low-lying shrubs and the occasional eucalypt tree standing only as tall as a person. The parched countryside, devoid of any cattle or sheep, looked like a moonscape for us Tasmanians from a hilly home of green grazing pasture. Arriving in Mildura at 6pm and with the temperature in the mid-30s, the sight of the caravan park’s swimming pool was most welcoming.

Mildura, on the Murray.

We had recently travelled the road to Mildura, but the road continuing north to Broken Hill was new for us, and we were venturing into some serious outback countryside. We’d never been to the birthplace of BHP before, and it is proving to be such a fascinating place that we’ve extended our stay from three days to five.