I was excited to arrive in Broken Hill. I’d heard there was plenty to photograph, and I soon realised the town was far more than a gateway to Silverton, Kinchega and Mutawintji. Broken Hill is a photographic destination in its own right, with its grand old buildings, weathered streets and the enormous Line of Lode rising above it all.
The town grew from an extraordinary discovery. In 1883, a boundary rider named Charles Rasp recognised the promise of an outcrop on a hill that the Wilyakali people knew as Willyama. Beneath it lay a vast seam of silver, lead and zinc. The discovery gave rise to BHP and transformed a remote mining settlement into a city whose wealth and working life helped shape Australia. Mining remains part of Broken Hill’s identity today.
I’m usually uneasy about mining because of the damage it can do to the environment. But in Broken Hill I found myself drawn into the story of it: the scale of what was discovered, the ingenuity it took to work here, and the generations of people whose lives were bound up with the mines. The town wears that history openly. I wanted to explore it through my camera.
Heritage walk
I took the heritage walk through the centre of Broken Hill, following streets whose names—Argent, Chloride, Blende—are a constant reminder of the minerals beneath the town. It was a lovely way to slow down and look properly at the old buildings. Broken Hill’s mining history is visible everywhere, but the walk also brought the people behind that history into focus.
The Trades Hall was one of the most interesting stops. Built in stages around the turn of the twentieth century, it became a centre of the town’s powerful union movement. Mining brought great wealth to Broken Hill, but it was dangerous work, and the miners fought hard for better pay, shorter hours and safer conditions. Standing outside the hall, I was reminded that the town’s history belongs as much to its workers as to its mining companies.
The old Post Office made a very different impression. With its red brickwork and prominent clock tower, it has the confidence of a town that expected to prosper. It must have been quite a sight in such a remote place when it was built in the 1890s, and it remains one of the most photogenic buildings in the centre of town.
Then there was the Palace Hotel, a building with a history almost too colourful to invent. It opened in 1889 as an alcohol-free coffee palace, intended as an alternative to the town’s pubs. That didn’t last: within a few years it had become a licensed hotel. Later, its interiors were covered in exuberant murals by Gordon Waye, and it found another kind of fame as a filming location for The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. I loved that one building could hold so many different chapters of Broken Hill’s story.
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| The Kintore Headframe in Kintore Reserve. It was moved here from the Kintore Shaft in 1984. |
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| The former Sulphide Street railway station, now part of the Sulphide Street Railway & Historical Museum |
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| The Syndicate of Seven busts. They depict Charles Rasp and the six men who joined him in pegging the mineral claims that led to Broken Hill’s founding and, eventually, BHP. |
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| Trades Hall |
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| Trades Hall |
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| Trades Hall |
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| Trades Hall |
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| Trades Hall |
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| Trades Hall |
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| Broken Hill’s old Town Hall façade. The main hall was demolished in the 1970s, but the 1891 street frontage was saved |
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| The AMA Band Hall, beside Trades Hall. “AMA” stands for the Amalgamated Miners’ Association. Built around 1914, it housed the miners’ band. |
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| Post Office |
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| Post Office |
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| Post Office |
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| Post Office |
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| Palace Hotel |
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| Palace Hotel |
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| Palace Hotel |
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| Royal Exchange Hotel |
Line of Load
From the heritage walk, I could see the Line of Lode rising above the town, crowned by the striking Miners’ Memorial. I drove up afterwards to take a closer look. The views from the top were amazing: Broken Hill spread out below me, with its streets and old buildings set against the vastness of the outback. It was also a chance to see the mining landscape from a different angle. The ridge that dominates the town is made up in large part of the waste rock and tailings left by generations of mining.
Along the way were old pieces of mining equipment and other relics, reminders of the sheer physical effort involved in extracting ore from this place. But the memorial itself affected me most. Inside its rust-red walls are the names of more than 800 miners who lost their lives, together with the ways they died. Reading one name and cause of death after another was deeply moving. From below, mining can seem like a story of discovery, wealth and impressive machinery. Up there, it became a story of individual people and the terrible risks they took each day.
I lingered at the lookout, taking in that extraordinary view. The beauty of the scene and the sadness of the memorial sat side by side. It gave me a much deeper sense of Broken Hill than I could have gained from photographing its buildings alone.
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| Line of Lode Visitors Centre |
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| Miners’ Memorial |
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| Miners’ Memorial |
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| Miners’ Memorial |
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| Miners’ Memorial |
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| Miners’ Memorial |
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| Miners’ Memorial |
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| View of the Post Office |
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| Line of Lode Visitors Centre and restaurant |
Living desert
After immersing myself in Broken Hill’s mining history, I was ready for some nature. I headed out to the Living Desert, where the noise and bustle of town gave way to a beautiful stillness. Red earth stretched around me, dotted with flowers that seemed all the more vivid against the dry landscape. I slowed down, wandered and took it all in. It felt peaceful to be surrounded by the outback again.
Sculptures at sunset
Up on a ridge in the Living Desert stood twelve great sandstone sculptures, with beautiful views across the surrounding country. They were carved in 1993 by artists from Australia and around the world, brought together for a sculpture symposium organised by Lawrence Beck. I wandered among them with my camera, looking at how each shape sat against the sky and the red earth.
I stayed to watch the sunset. As the light softened, the sculptures began to glow, their colours deepening by the minute. An echidna came out to say hello, and below the ridge I could see kangaroos bouncing through the landscape. There was something wonderful about being up there with the art, the animals and that immense sky. I felt completely present. It was one of the spiritual highlights of my whole trip.
