On set

This is me posing with a cab which will feature in the next scene. I needn't have bothered with the mascara as I didn't take off my sunglasses as the glare of the sun was intense. And sadly David Wenham wasn't on set to notice whether I was wearing mascara or not.

  

Even though we were later told we were not allowed to take any photos of the stars we got a quick picture of these lovely young people. They play two feral shooters in the show. They were so respectful of Dad's book and so dedicated to their craft.

    

This Helen Bowden, one of the producers during lunch break.

And here is Kristian Moliere, the other producer. Everyone was so welcoming and happy to have us share this production day.

Blocking the scene.

Paul and me sharing a joke with Kristian.

We were not allowed to take photos of the stars but I thought it would be o.k. if I shot the monitor. Sean Keenan did a handstand before each take. He wanted to have the reddened face that he would have had if he had been John Grant staggering drunkenly down the baking hot street.

I felt a shiver of excitement every time the clapper identified a new scene. I felt Dad looking over my shoulder as he sat there watching the fruits of his labour unfold with a new identity. The same but different.

The day's call sheet.

They said we couldn't shoot the stars but I thought it was alright to photograph the dead lizard which has quite a prominent role in the story.

 

And this is Mrs Peters an extra in the film. She was amazing in the fact that she had also been an extra in the original film. She and her husband were Rotarians and pillars of the Broken Hill community. They were almost ostracised when the film premiered all those years ago. But she was up for one last go. Hopefully the town will be kinder this time round.

 

We left the film set and returned to town to visit the Regional Art Gallery which was a marvellous old building full of wonderful works of art. That is another thing about Broken Hill, amongst the strange little square homes which dotted the outskirts of town were wonderful old buildings. Legacies of a more booming time. Most of them were pubs.

But the reason I took a photo of this little sugar glider was not because of its beauty but because it reminded me of a picture that my sister Megan painted long ago. Only hers was better. Meg would have loved to have been part of this pilgrimage, as would Ant.

 

This poster was in a front window of a shop in Argent Street, the Main Street of Broken Hill.

And this is a final shot of our last night in Broken Hill. A journey full of memories, fragments from a special shiny past. We have the promise of a new beginning with this new rendition of Wake in Fright and at the same time we can look back on something special. Life with Dad was unique. Thanks for the legacy you left us with, Dad.

Return trip to Broken Hill and a cracking sunset

    

  

Packing up the camp and dousing the last of the fire.

Intrepid explorers on the lookout for wild life.

A little bit of heaven. The outback is a strange place. At times it is so serene and spiritual and at others it is menacing and alienating.

A lot of the water holes had these thin spindly twigs reaching up to the sky. All sorts of water birds swoop and soar in the pellucid blue that stretches on forever. That is another thing about this country - it is vast beyond comprehension. We are just here for a few days and in the cool season. What must it have been like for those early explorers who struggled out here in all seasons for months on end? And what a bitter and lonely death it would have been for many of them. Even from our pampered perspective the dry atmosphere takes its toll. Our lips are cracked, our eyes are dry and our nostrils feel clogged with fine dust.

 Paul bet me that I wouldn't go into the water at Lake Pamaroo. My competitive spirit kicked in.

Here I am channeling my inner Wake in Fright. I am in awe of how my father effortlessly captured the very essence of this country in a few sparse words. I am very proud of my old man and very pleased we decided to embark on this nostalgic journey. It has given Paul and me the chance for mutual reminiscences. A time for us to remember our young selves basking in the light of our charismatic father.

Sunset at the Living Desert and Sculpture Park. At the top of a hill just outside Broken Hill sit twelve glorious sculptures carved from sandstone from Wilcannia. Even without the sunset these massive edifices were balm for the soul.

 

Beer, art,companionship and nature. What more could you ask for?

Slightly surreal nightscape as we head back to town for dinner at the Palace Hotel where we ate another hearty meal. Quite a few of the cast and crew from Wake in Fright were relaxing over a quiet beer in the main bar. We said goodnight as we adjourned back to the comforts of the Eumundi Tramway cottage which is our home away from home. And so one last sleep before we go on set and meet the actors and have some publicity photos taken with the stars. In anticipation I made a quick trip to Big W to buy some mascara.

A bit of magic

The desert after rain

Meeting the crew and back on the road

We had planned for an early start from Broken Hill for our camping trip at Menindee, two hours south of Broken Hill but a phone call from the P.R. lady for Wake in Fright changed our plans. We drove to South Broken Hill to watch a scene being shot. We were greeted with great friendliness by the producers Helen Bowden and Kristian Moliere. The director Kriv Stenders briefly turned away from the field monitors to say hello. We then watched three takes with Sean Keenan and Gary Sweet outside the Bundanyabba Arms. It was wonderful but freezing cold. I felt sorry for the actors who were dressed for summer.

Here we are with Kris.

And here is the wonderfully recreated sign for the Bundanyabba Arms. It was authenticity aged, after an hour or so we said goodbye and stopped for coffee at Bells Cafe - an amazing old original fifties milk bar.

And then we truly did set off for our camping trip. We stopped just outside the Kinchega National Park to watch these emus and kangaroos just beyond a sea of tiny pink flowers. Magic. We are lucky to be visiting the outback after a lot of rain. The lakes are full and the foliage,  not exactly lush but very much alive.

Bird's nests.

Looking out from inside the Kinchega shearing shed - an old wooden building built in the 1880s

The spot we picked to set up camp. I even got a chance to do a spot of meditation in this beautiful, tranquil location.

Tina bringing out the makings of dinner. Peter slept in his van while the three of us shared a tent. Cozy.

A change of light. That is one thing that is almost a visceral presence out here. The landscape changes with the light. It is no wonder there are so many painters out in this part of the country.

Our nifty BBQ where we cooked up a mean steak to go with our red wine.

And then a lovely sunset followed by a spectacular night sky showcasing dazzling bright stars.

Older than Dad

This is me and Dad on that 1982 road trip. As you can see we could have taught the hipsters a style trick or two and our oral hygiene was impeccable. Even in the outback we kept up our sartorial and health standards.

This is how I remember Dad. This is the image I see when I'm thinking of him. Here he is with George the dog, his adored granddaughter Sophie and me. George was a huge Alsatian that Dad found wandering around lost in the outback. 

Dad was a handsome man with a deep chocolatey voice. He was fifty seven when he died on one of his road trips into the outback. I have lived far longer than he did. If he were alive today he would be eighty eight. He wouldn't look anything like my memory of him.

It's a bit like Marilyn Monroe. She died young and attractive. Dad wasn't young but he wasn't old either. It is strange to be a person who is older than her father. When he was alive he seemed so much older than me.

Today in Broken Hill we met a man who is older than both of us. We met the very charming ninety year old Jack Absalom. To visit Jack Absalom's gallery was the first on our Broken Hill sight seeing list. We were surprised when the old man opened the door of his art gallery and ushered us inside.

We wandered around looking at the paintings and marvelling at this self taught artist. He had started off life as an opal miner at twelve years old, turned to roo shooting for a few years before he decided to become an artist. He was a fruity old gent, as was my father. Another thing they had in common was their love of opals. Dad had always loved opals. I bought a pair of earrings that Jack had mined himself in memory of Dad. He would have bought me a pair if he had been alive.

Here's Jack giving me an old man hug.

And here's one of Jack's paintings. And after that we visited the slag heap which overlooks Broken Hill.

The troops posing from the slag heap overlooking Broken Hill?

The lovely outback sky.

And then we headed out of town to Silverton where we were told we could get the best hamburger in town.

A lot of Mad Max was shot around here.

And it was picturesque.

And full of Twin Peaks mystery. Paul found a random bra in a dried up creek bed but luckily no body or crime scene. It was a wonderful day and then we returned to our temporary home where Paul cooked up a feast.

On the road

  We  Where are all the people at Mascot airport going to? Why are they all up so excruciatingly early? And who are they? Do they all have souls? And why is airport food so expensive and disgusting?

And why was the driver of our airport bus so cheerful and so chatty?

Enough of the soul searching. I was picked up by cheery Dave at 5.30am. Paul and Tina were already in the bus. We got to the airport in record time and then waited and waited for our flight. 

We are flying Rex and will arrive in Dubbo at 9.30am where Peter Dunn will be waiting for us. We will then drive for eight and a bit hours to Broken Hill. 

In preparation for this visit I finally read the scripts for the Tele-series. I have been putting it off for months but as we will shortly be meeting the cast and crew I thought I should know a bit about the plot.

I hadn't wanted to read it because I was worried about how this new rendition was going to deviate from the original book and film. There had been all sorts of talk about casting the ocker town cop Jock as a young Aboriginal woman.

I wasn't happy with that idea. I knew they had to tease out the the story line to make four hours of television. 

Luckily, Jock was still a man who will be played by David Wenham.

Kangaroos have been replaced with feral pigs, there is a lot of nudity and violence but the basics of beer, two up and flies remain as we follow John Grant's descent into hell. Not the same as the original but I can almost hear Dad say "take the money and run".

The forty five minute flight was a breeze. A bit bumpy but they gave us free coffee and rice crackers.

Peter was there to greet us and we set off on our outback adventure. 

Long straight roads slice though the vivid red earth endlessly merging into the blue sky on the horizon.

Eight hours on the road is a long time.

We stopped at Cobar for lunch. Peter had made some gourmet sandwiches and a thermos of hot tea. We turned off the main road and headed to a local lookout. At the top of a very windy hill we peered down into a huge open cut mine.

 It was a gold mine. We gulped down our tea and sandwiches as we battled a gale force wind. And then it was back into the car.

Some hours later we arrived in Wilcannia. The last time I was here was with Paul and Dad. We camped on the banks of the Darling River and nearly froze in the night. Today we strolled around the lovely old buildings and down to the river. Apparently Wilcannia was the third largest port in NSW after Sydney and Morpeth near Newcastle. This information comes courtesy of a nice old bloke who thrust tourist information pamphlets at us. The sun was shining and we saw flocks of red tailed black cockatoos swooping and swirling in the clear sky. Alas, the two coffee shops were closed. As were all the shops in Wilcannia. The only place that was open for business was the police station.

And then it was back on the road. We have seen a lot of wild life on this trip. Lots of dead kangaroos, a few live ones, emus, sheep, goats,cows and lots of birds. More hours elapsed before we arrived at our cheerful accommodation. We unpacked and headed into town for dinner.

We found some good cheer in one of the many pubs in Broken Hill.

There was a special tribute room to Priscilla Queen of the Desert. A bit disconcerting but less so than if it had been a tribute room to that other great Australian film Wake in Fright. And then a well deserved steak.

And then back to bed. And so ends day one of our road trip.