We are no longer free agents, with all the time in the world to kill. At least, so far as sharing a rail route is concerned.Īt 4.45 pm, definitely once more in civilisation, represented by the platform sign Blayney, we are warned in no uncertain terms, “ DO NOT get off the train!“. Not the horses.īy 4 pm we have reached Orange, and we reverse up the track again, until we are switched onto the Western line. I thought this land was the edge of the known world, until I went further west, to the land of the great outback. This, and the land we see at Condobolin at 1.15 pm, this is the countryside I thought I knew. By 12.30 pm we are at the unpronounceable Euabalong West, and I eye the farming land and wheat silos. By 10.45 am we are at Ivanhoe, where we have a five minute break to stretch our legs on the platform. Little by little, we are leaving the red dust and the salt bush of the outback behind.
They will need flooding further upriver to replenish. It doesn’t need much rain to breathe life back into the existence here.Īll the same, as we pass the Menindee Lakes on our right they are still completely dry. The creek beds that we saw on our drive to Menindee several days earlier now have muddy tracks running through them, and the stands of Red River Gums, which hint at the line of watercourses, look refreshed. Trundling further down the track, I spy glints in the red clay on either side, and as we reach them, I see they are small puddles of residual water. He told us also of the farmer who was just about to offload his lambs, but has decided to keep them after all. On the drive from our motel to the station, Wayne has told us the deluge we drove through the day before yesterday has given Wilcannia three months of drinking water, a welcome respite from bore water. As we trundle down the track, in the distance, there is low cloud and mist hanging over the Barrier Ranges, holding promise for more rain to come.
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