TENNANT CREEK - PART 2 (13-14 SEPTEMBER 2013)

It is somewhat sad to have to admit that before we visited Tennant Creek, I knew surprisingly little about it or the region, other than it was on 'The Track' and was pretty remote.  In fact, for some strange reason I had always thought of TC as an old town, but this is definitely not so.

 

The current township of TC did not really develop until the early 1930's after Charlie Windley, a linesman employed to maintain the overland telegraph line, discovered gold in the nearby hills.  This prompted Australia's last 'gold rush', when many men, struggling to make ends meet as a result of the Great Depression, walked 'up the track' (as it certainly was in those days) to try their luck.

 

Extraction of TC gold, which was deposited as fine grains within the ironstone mother rock, was difficult.  Those who arrived in the area hoping to strike it rich in the way others had in alluvial gold fields elsewhere in the country were doomed to disappointment.  Heavy stamp batteries were needed to crush the ironstone (aptly named) and released the captured gold particles.  This required capital and organization, two commodities on short supply amongst the wandering hopefuls.

 

But modern TC was born and the town of about 3,000 folk now exists as a regional centre offering government services, accommodation, regional touring, shopping an dining to visitors and locals alike.  The development of mining in TC can be explored at The Battery Hill Mining Centre which sits at the eastern end of Peko Road, a stone's throw from our caravan park.

And just in case a visitor need reminding of the past endeavours on the gold workings, old pieces of mine machinery are dotted along the length of Peko Road. (would you guess we are in the 'red centre'?)

   

But despite its relatively late start in life as a township, the general region has been 'on the map' since the construction of the overland telegraph line which was erected over the 3,600 kms between Adelaide and Darwin, following the route taken by the explorer John McDouell Stuart. 

This enormous project was managed by the then South Australian Post Master General, Charles Todd and, incredibly, given the equipment then available and the harsh nature of the country over which the line was constructed, it was completed in two years.

The Tennant Creek Telegraph Station, one of the eleven repeater stations between Port Augusta and Darwin, began life as a temporary bush building alongside the creek named after John Tennant.  By 1872, when the line was completed, the TC station had been rebuilt of local stone and, as we were to discover, became a real local outpost. 

We had spotted this complex as we drove in from Threeways, but now we were off to take a detailed look at what was on offer.  

 

 

 

 

The first thing we noticed near the car park was a small monument commemorating the completion of the Stuart Highway.  That did not grab my attention nearly as much as the remaining bitumen strip which was the original sealed road.  Better than a dirt track, but only just I suspect.  What a contrast this makes to the wide, generally smooth blacktop carpet on which we were now travelling. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Off to the Telegraph Station, which we discovered is being wonderfully restored and preserved since being acquired by the NT Government in 1986. (more of its interim history later)

The telegraphists and support staff who lived and worked here and in other such stations were a hardy lot.  They had to be.  They were utterly isolated apart from a stores supply visit once very six months. Aside from relaying the Morse code messages to and from Australia to England, they had to maintain the line and preserve and grow their own food.

Food preservation in a climate such as this was no small challenge in the days before refrigeration.  But, as I said earlier, these were a resourceful lot.  The cool store in which all manner of foodstuff was stored is a marvel. 

Thick walls, a deep cellar

and an ingenious vent system over which damp hessian bags were laid and through which the winds of the desert blew in a primitive but effective form of evaporative air conditioning, all served to keep the interior remarkably cool even during the hottest period (did I mention it was hot out here?...many times I am sure!)

The nearby smokehouse was used to cure various portions of the station meat supply and as the place in which the bread ovens were set up.  The last thing these chaps needed was to have a hot oven operating inside their living quarters. (this model seems just get in the way all the time!) This shot give a good view of the thickness of the walls of these buildings, and of the flattened kerosene tins which were used as roofing iron.  Nothing was wasted in these parts. 


The main station complex consists of a spread of buildings including the telegraph office (on the right of shot) and the living quarters next to it.

 

 

Behind these two main buildings are the rough stone erections which served as workshops and store rooms for the equipment which was needed to maintain the line and other infrastructure.

 

 

 


The main buildings were designed to remain as temperate as possible.  The living quarters boast a fully mesh enclosed, wide verandah which allowed the slightest breeze to cool the building while at the same time keeping at bay the hordes of pesky little bush flies which infest this region in their millions. (there's that model again)



In a perverse kind of way, I was glad that the day on which we visited the station was a stinker.  It enabled us to experience just how efficient these buildings were in maintaining a reasonable interior temperature and gave a real feel for the environment in which these hardy souls lived and worked.

Not that they were the only white folk in the area.  The construction track alongside the telegraph line became a popular (well, in a relative sense at least) route for early adventurers of all sorts.  My favourite is Jerome Murif, who, believe it or not, in late 1897, arrived in a somewhat parlous state at the telegraph station.  This is not entirely surprising.  He had just pedalled a bicycle from Adelaide en route to Darwin.  Now that's a challenge!  And he wasn't the only one.  In 1908 Francis Birtles also enjoyed the food, hospitality and companionship of the folk at the TC telegraph station when he cycled in having ridden from Sydney up the east coast to Darwin and thence south down the track.  No further comment required I suspect.


In 1951 the station was bought by a local grazier who used one of the outbuildings as a butcher shop.  His freezers and other equipment are still on site.  Fortunately the NT Government re-acquired the property in 1986 and its preservation and restoration have been a work in progress ever since.  And this still remains a challenging place to this day as this outlook from the living quarters shows.

But, just as we found in Cloncurry and Mount Isa, all is not bleak, barren, dry and dusty at Tennant Creek.  On our return to the town from the telegraph station, past some of the interesting local hills,




 

we popped in to have a peek at Lake Mary Ann.  What a delight.  We were enthused even as we approached the entrance.  Trees...lawn...surely not.

One thing these outback towns do really well is use their local water holding facilities for recreational purposes as well.  Can you imagine boating on the Happy Valley reservoir???

Even in the drought conditions, with the water very low, there was still plenty for boating, swimming and fishing.  And at the end of all that exertion, what better than a relaxing BBQ and a few beers on the lawns of the lake, which extended far further than this snippet of them shows.
 

This area is managed by a full time ranger whose workshop wall is adorned with a mural we found fascinating.

What an evocative piece of work, and how in keeping with the locale.  And I can make these comments because my blogsite prevents responses! (but some of you know that already, don't you).
 

After returning the telegraph station key to the Information Centre, the nearby 'Bill Allen' lookout beckoned.  As could be expected, Bill had been a local stalwart for many years and a driving force behind much of TC's development.

The views from this vantage point were well worth the short drive.

here looking across to the township itself









 

and here to the south where I was lucky enough to catch the end of a massive willy willy which had been hurling itself across the hills.  This time of the year is known as the willy willy season, and as experiences in the caravan parks at Mount Isa and here in Tennant Creek demonstrated, the description is apt.

Despite the fact that the telegraph station was the primary tourist attraction for us at Tennant Creek, we couldn't leave without our usual trot around the CBD and elsewhere.  As we walked into town along Peko Road we passed the Council Chambers

and the Government offices opposite

before pausing to take in the very impressive local pool where I had considered doing some laps until I found that the minute the doors open, the entire pool is inundated with a mass of glistening, squealing little black bodies.  The local kids just love the place, as they should, and a dedicated lap swimming lane is not on the agenda of the pool management.






Peko Road ends at the main street where the intersection boasts on one side a modest but interesting sound shell and park

and on the other the striking mural on the wall of the Aboriginal Arts Centre.







 

Murals are de rigour in Tennant Creek.  They can be found on the wall of the school,

and on the street bins.

The modern Uniting Church stands next to its predecessor, which remains one of the oldest buildings in TC (and looks it)

The Tennant Creek pub is also a building of considerable venerability.  Unfortunately, or perhaps wisely given some of the congregated clientele we later saw awaiting opening hour, we did not manage the time to imbibe in this local watering hole which, amongst other things has a most


  







interesting looking courtyard entrance.  Next time!

Tennant Creek's main street, which is in fact the Stuart Highway, is quite long, and, not surprisingly houses the majority of local business houses, restaurants, pubs, service stations and other service providers. After all we had been told of the town we were surprised to find how green and leafy it was.

 

 





Not so in the 'suburbs' where dry, red earth margins such as seen here are typical. 






And, of course, how could I leave TC without a visit to the local RSL which is one of three thriving local service clubs.  Annoyingly, the posted opening hours on the front door were incorrect, and our visit was not rewarded with a beer with the troops.  Again, next time!

As we made our way back to camp to prepare for our departure for Alice Springs the following morning, I was in the process of taking a shot of the very large local drainage system (when it rains here it really does) when Liz spotted a ute whizzing around the nearby backstreets, trailer in tow.  Nothing surprising about that I hear you snort.  Indeed so, until you take a closer look in the trailer.  This chap was actually driving up and down 'the burbs' collecting shopping trolleys which evidently make their way a considerable distance from the supermarket in the main street on a regular basis.  Tennant Creek in a nutshell...no car...no worries!

 





 After all this exploring what can one do but relax and await a wonderful outback sunset...which didn't eventuate.  But I did enjoy the wait,




with the additional bonus that, as the sun had set, we were joined by our neighbour, Hubert. So what you say.  

Well, as we soon discovered, Hubert had been one of the original miners here in Tennant Creek in the mid 1940's. As an 18 year old he fled his country and family who were becoming closely associated with the burgeoning Nazi party.  When I asked if he had any regrets about never again having seen his father or the remainder of his family his response was simple....."would you have backed Hitler?"  What a great fellow he is and what a chat we had.  He regaled us for an hour with tales about the Tennant Creek mining industry and his adventures around Australia after he left this area. 

"Well, Hubert, are you married?"  "Of course..to a lovely Greek girl".  "Well, where is she..does she travel with you?"  "Don't be silly...she's got too much brains to come up here..she just says..see you when you comeback!"   And no, Liz is not giving him the Nazi salute!!  What an absolute champion Hubert is and  what an end to our last evening in Tennant Creek!

 

TENNANT CREEK - PART 1 (13 -14 SEPTEMBER 2013)

The morning of our departure from Barkly Homestead began as the evening had left off with another less than spectacular but nevertheless satisfying display, this time in the eastern sky.

A red sky over red earth...it doesn't get much more 'Red Centre' than this.  And so to the morning pack up and departure.  And here we were presented with another of nature's challenges at Barkly Homestead.  Mosquitoes.....squadrons of them, launching themselves like Kamikaze hordes on any skerrick of exposed flesh.  By the time I had set things up to leave, the interior of the cruiser was unbelievably thick with these buzzing pests, to the point we had to shut up and spray volumes of fly spray before we could take up our seats.  By the time our chemical saviour had done its work, the dashboard mat was literally thick with little mozzie bodies.  We have never seen anything like it this side of a mangrove swamp.

 

 

 

 

With victory achieved and a cabin now free of our winged antagonists, it was off again west along the Barkly Highway in a gathering morning gloom, the first real clouds we had seen since we left the FNQ coast.

 

 

And like the majority of roads in this part of the world, a bend is a cause for excitement. I keep telling the bored navigator that this is good practice for the 90 mile straight stretch on the Nullarbor (the world's longest)

Rain on the windscreen, even if it is but a few drops, is also a cause for momentary excitement, momentary only because that is as long as it lasted.  Did I mention it is as dry as a lime-kilner's boot up here?  I suspect I may have.

On we drove, undaunted by the challenges of straight roads, piddly rain and never changing scenery until a genuine moment of excitement...'the Stuart'.  We had finally reached 'The Track' at the junction known as Threeways, and were about to turn south for the first time in months.  Heavens, we are only 2,000 kms from Adelaide...almost home! 



At this point I have to comment that I remain relieved to find that it seems no matter how much Liz and I cavort around this huge country of ours, and how much we learn and experience, there continue to be 'those moments'.   For me at least, this was one such.

 

The country seemed to change markedly as we made our way the short distance from Threeways to Tennant Creek.  The grassy plains gave way to some decidedly different vistas

as we approached the cutting in the hills which surround the northern approaches to Tennant Creek.








In no time at all we were at the northern end of the main street of a town that had been on my personal 'bucket list' for ages, if for no other reason than I could not believe that it could be as bad as so many people had said.  And it wasn't.  I don't think I would really like to live in Tennant Creek, but I now know that the tales of woe spun to us by many are just that...tales from folk with a very narrow perspective on the world.

Having said that, we were just a tad daunted as we approached our caravan park on Peko Road.  Apart from the relative greenery of the main street, Tennant Creek is decidedly dry and barren,

but things looked much more encouraging as we made out way through the park entrance (here pictured complete with model).







This is one of those parks where sites are not allocated and at this time of the season there were plenty from which to choose, particularly given that we were, again, first in for the morning.

I have found that my old army compass is invaluable on occasions such as these when site selection is driven by the need for shade.  This is not to say I get it right all the time, but we have usually fared pretty well in working out the likely path of the sun for the remainder of the day.

And so it was in Tennant Creek.  After wandering around for a while I picked the site with the most potential shade and we backed in and set up for our stay of two nights.

Despite the rather bleak general outlook in the park, we had as comfortable a stay as could be expected when the daytime temperatures hovered on 40 degrees and at night it did not dip below 26.  As had the been the case since we left Mount Isa, the caravan air conditioner was on duty almost constantly.  This sort of heat can be taxing enough for us humans....for poor old black Max with his fur coat, it can be purgatory if cooling is not provided.

This is one of those parks where a licenced bar is part of the amenity.  Liz and I did venture down here for late afternoon refreshment on our first day, but to our disappointment we were the only starters.

The park pool was a godsend, even for one such as your correspondent who normally scorns anything less than 20 metres long.  A brief two stroke flop is more than welcome in this weather irrespective of the fact it can hardly be called a 'swim'.



In addition to the normal sightseeing which was on our Tennant Creek agenda, we had another mission.  One of my good friends and colleagues from my Workcover and government investigation days was posted to the TC police station twenty years or so ago when he was with the NT Police.  He had been instrumental in developing a 'Police Club' in a building behind the station in which brass plaques are set into the bar to commemorate the service of all who have been posted to this particular station.  In all the years since, despite entreaties to former comrades in arms of all ranks, he has been unable to acquire a photo of his plaque. 

  

We were determined to set this to rights, so, once settled, we trotted down to the main street to the very imposing local station where I introduced myself to one of the on-duty sergeants and explained my quest.  He was most accommodating and duly took me through the station and out the back

where a rather non-descript exterior hid a more than acceptable watering hole within. Here all the local police and their guests are able to socialize together without interference or the need to be constantly looking over their shoulders.  From some of what we later noted in Tennant Creek, the ability to be able to have a quiet drink amongst their mates in private surroundings is a highly desirable thing for the local blue hats. 

and here it is old mate....mission accomplished.




 

 

 

Tomorrow it is off to the nearby wonderfully preserved overland telegraph station and a general look around Tennant Creek.