The advice I had been given by the Wilpena-Pound National Park Rangers on going north had been right. While some creek crossings should be approached carefully, there was not going to be any problem on the track to Blinman, unless one veered off onto the closed road to Bunyero Creek and Brachina Gorge. Eager to avoid another “boggy when wet”-experience, I did not dare to even vaguely consider tackling an officially closed road. Thus, with feet drying quickly after each creek crossing, I reached the former copper mining town of Blinman in time for lunch.
“Blinman tuned out to be 200 yards of bitumen on what was otherwise a dirtroad. “
Jacobson, “In the land of Oz”, p. 224
Although factually correct, Jacobson could have described the remote, small township somewhat nicer. I agreed with him however in my surprise at the size of the dining room in the Blinman Hotel. Beyond the walls of a small, quaint bar, stretched a dining room of which the far wall appeared to be nonexistent to the shortsighted. Why such a vast space? Blinman’s population of 100 would easily fit into one corner! And Hawker’s 350 inhabitant’s were more than 100 km to the south while Leigh Creek’s 1000 were more than 100 km to the north. Tourist business must be big business ere at times. Presumably bus load after bus load tracks up here from Wilpena to investigate Blinman’s mining history.
Shepherd Thomas Blinman, looking after sheep on the Angorichina station, had discovered copper around here in 1859. During the second half of the last century, many small mines were established in the northern section of the Flinders Ranges, with copper being one of the main ores. However, individual copper deposits were small and cost of transport high.
“even the most productive mine, the Blinman, from 1862 – 1907 was worked by a succession of companies but never profitable. Costs of transport, first by bullock dray to Port Augusta, a distance of two hundred kilometres, and from 1882 by horse teams to the western plain for railing from Parachilna, absorbed most of the profits. ”
Mincham, et al, “The Flinders Ranges – A Portrait”, p. 26
Seemingly, even the ingenious invention of the Railway which G. BIainey had so praised as an instrument that opened up the continent, had not worked out in favour of the mining companies in the harsh environment of the Flinders.
Parachilna Gorge, for which I as heading now, not only marks approximately the northern end of the Heysen Range, but, according to the ordnance survey map, it is also the dividing line between the South Flinders Ranges and the North Flinders Ranges. A number of creeks on the eastern side of the range unite here to make their westward way through the gorge and then spread out, in a delta-like fashion, towards the saltpan of Lake Torrens. About ten kilometres from the western end of the gorge lies Parachilna, consisting of a couple of houses on the railway line to Leigh Creek ( pre – 1956 to Alice Springs). I had planned to stay at the Parachilna Hotel for the night – - – little did I know!!! Fate had a few surprises in store for me!
The first one came while I was still forced to “wash” my feet about once every kilometre. Merging creekbeds from the northeast and southeast gradually increased the amount of water hurrying towards Lake Torrens. Even the first creek crossings, usually jammed between a steeply descending and ascending road, had to be approached fairly carefully. The water was flowing fast and its uneven surface successfully camouflaged bigger boulders. I had been alright on my first and second crossing, but from there on I never failed to hit big, unmovable rock with either the front wheel or one of the pedals, bringing the bike to a sudden halt, and balance out of control. My shoes received a good wash every time, but with the water warm enough for shorts I had nothing to complain about, except for the ungainly sight of a bike tilting and its owner desperately trying to find a foothold on rather wobbly pebbles of all sizes. While approaching one of those dodgy crossings, I was more than mildly surprised when two doors flung open and two voices burst out simultaneously:”Hi!” For a moment I thought I was dreaming. But there, right in front of me stood Annie, Arkaroola’s chef and Brentan, One of Arkaroola’s tour drivers. After everyone of Arkaroola’s staff members had declared my idea of cycling up from Adelaide as total madness, it now seemed as if they were all checking up on me.
Just as in Quorn, only a few days ago, this was a totally coincidental bumping into each other. A few days later, once again, I happened to bump into friends. Naturally, I accepted a cold can of a famous Australian brewery. After a chat and “one for the road” I manoeuvred myself across the creek and, with slightly weakened legs, climbed uphill again.
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