The White Cliffs music festival was held over three days. It all kicked off on Friday evening with what was in essence a street concert in front of the pub and continued on Saturday with musical workshops in the morning followed by 'the main event', when a series of performers entertained all comers in the Community Hall from mid afternoon until late in the evening. On Sunday, after a breakfast session at the 'Poets' chicken and champagne breakfast', the tiny local church was the venue for a musical themed service, where the parson was joined by a number of those who had previously performed at the different venues. It all came to a fitting end with a sing along gathering around the camp fire in the caravan park.
And as we were to discover, some of those who had travelled here to entertain us were damned good.
As the setting sun began to tinge the clouds with pink on late Friday afternoon, we joined the crowd gathering in the closed main street. I'm not really sure if the barriers which prevented traffic movement were officially sanctioned or not (there is no girl or boy in blue here), but they did the job.
This was very much a BYO affair.....chairs, esky, nibbles, and, given the forecast, warm clothes. The long verandah of the hotel provided the stage for this event which was free of charge.
The entertainment came in two sections. For the first few hours the format was virtually that of an 'open mike', where anyone with talent (real or imagined) could make a contribution. I think many of the performances during this period could be best described as 'interesting'. We had everything, including songs, bush poetry recitals, joke telling and (spare us) a rendition of tunes played on a saw!
As the skies continued to darken and the crowd numbers increased,
a line of brightly burning braziers threw a cheery light
as various hopefuls took to the stage and did their best to retain our attention.
A community run BBQ to benefit the local school (I'll have more to say about this remarkable institution in a later missive) was in full swing under the porch of the general store.
With the all pervasive and irresistible smell of frying onions in the air, sizzled sausages and hearty hamburgers, with accompanying salads of a high standard, were racing off the hotplates as fast as the busy chefs could wield their tongs and spatulas.
The prices were more than modest and I can happily report that my decision to 'eat out' was a happy one. Needless to say the pub was also offering meals, but I was quite content to go with the 'picnic model'
As could be expected the pub was serving more than meals. The bar was buzzing, but we had no need to venture inside. We had come equipped with a well stocked cold bag
and had also heeded the advice to rug up. Long strides are not something I wear too often (once free of the icy shackles of an Adelaide winter!), but I was more than pleased to have broken out a pair of old jeans for this occasion. It was decidedly nippy.
So we sat back, slurped and munched our way through the first section of the evening and waited patiently for the arrival of a chap about whom we had, by now, heard much. Royden Donohue is well known as an Elvis impersonator of some skill (this performance listed for the morrow), but after he tuned his Fender
and got underway, we quickly realised that we were in for a treat. This bloke is good....a skillful guitarist with a good voice and an excellent backing set up.
And he just didn't stop. Royden regaled us with a repertoire which included all manner of songs, pop, rock and roll, country and ballads for a good four hours with only a short break mid session. We had a ball.
Now I am sure I have mentioned somewhere in the recent past that one of the reasons we had come to White Cliffs was to meet the owner of the local pub who just happens to be the brother of Liz's erstwhile colleague we caught up with in Crystal Brook.
Geoff lives in Broken Hill but makes the trip to White Cliffs on a regular basis, and was certainly on deck for this weekend. So after our three previous false starts, when illness had stymied our plans to meet him, we finally touched base.
'Seagull', as he is universally known in this district, proved to be as welcoming and avuncular as he is large! Apart from the excellent entertainment we had been enjoying during the evening, we took the opportunity for a good chat with both him and with our camp host Rob.
Liz has been quick to label this keepsake shot as 'a housebreaker between two White Cliffs locals'! Unfair in the extreme....it's a beanie not a balaclava!
It was almost midnight by the time that Royden finally unplugged his amplifiers and we all gathered up our chairs and other belongings and meandered back to camp. What a start this had been!
Another piece of advice we had picked up along the way before our arrival here in White Cliffs was to make sure we joined one of Rob's tours of the town and the area. We did just that on Saturday morning, and without preempting too much (I'll share all this later) let me report at this stage that this was one of the best tours we've ever enjoyed.
The Saturday 'main event' show was not free but the $40 per head entry fee did represent good value for money. This was the real money spinner of the weekend. Three of the featured performing groups took to the stage from 1500 hours until the 'dinner break' some three hours later. At this point a bush stew, damper and desserts were served for those wishing to part with an additional $25 per head.
The festivities were scheduled to resume at 1930 hours, and the four acts listed were those we were particularly keen to see and hear, so for us the decision was easy.......a quiet afternoon after the tour, dinner Chez Marshies and then the two minute stroll down to the community hall for the evening show.
For such a small and isolated town, the White Cliffs hall is surprisingly large. In addition to the main section, another large room runs the entire length of the building off to the side (the dinner servery on this occasion).
Needless to say one of the penalties we paid as virtual latecomers was a seat at the rear of the room, but we could still see and hear more than adequately from the 'back stalls', and as you can see, considerable effort had gone into the table decorations throughout.
With our well stocked esky at our feet we settled back as one of the first cabs off the rank for the evening session did a few sound checks on the very colourful stage.
Pete Denahy was first up, with his trusty bass player Aron McLean. Pete is an absolute hoot. He is a classy performer who writes all of his own material, most of which revolves around incisive and very witty observations about modern life and the Australian society.
His rendition about the situation we have all faced, trying to rid the interior of a car of a pesky fly, was absolutely hilarious.
Pete was followed by Nick Charles, a guitar virtuoso. Unfortunately his extraordinary skills were matched by the length of his performance, which in our humble view drifted into a period of unnecessary self-indulgence.
But the next act really livened things up again. The Davidson Brothers are as good as any country and blue grass band going around. I had no difficulty believing the introduction which noted that they are in high demand in Nashville, the home of this type of music.
And finally, our old friend from the previous evening strutted his stuff, but tonight Royden was Elvis. Apparently he is rated highly amongst those who follow these performers, and, despite my initial scepticism, I am happy to admit I agree with this view. His voice, costumes and style was spot on, and, as he did the previous evening, he was unstinting with his time on stage
and around the room.
This had indeed been $80 well spent, topped off by a refreshingly brisk walk home under the sparkling stars of a clear outback sky.
By now the thought of more alcohol at 0830 the next morning was all a bit much, so we were not starters for the $20 chicken and champers breakfast, but we did front up for the church service, curious to discover just how all this would be managed.
In a word...wonderfully!
The Reverend Helen Ferguson greeted all comers at the door,
and as early birds this time, we managed to find good seats in the tiny St Marys church.
True to the advertised programme, a number of those who had been performing over the weekend took part, including Pete Denahy who this time showed us his skills on the fiddle.
I must say I was more than interested to see how the theme of a music festival could be woven into a sermon. Well, the good Reverend Helen nailed it with a fascinating discourse about the strong faith held by that musical legend Johnny Cash, much better known for his excesses of the flesh than his commitment to God. Very clever indeed, and utterly fascinating.
There seemed to be no end to the good preacher's skills, as she plunked away on a ukulele with the members of Euripi and the Jam Tarts Trio for the closing musical rendition.
Tradition has it that all who have warmed a pew on this occasion must then line up for a group photo (apparently at the insistence of the local Bishop). As is obvious we did not join this group, but took our own photos instead.
And what of the finale, around the the park campfire? Again, we had another prior appointment.....Sunday night dinner at the White Cliffs Sports Club is not to be missed we had been told, so off we went (more later).
By the time we had returned to camp, the fire was indeed blazing and many had gathered around it. This had been advertised as a 'Campfire Jam', where any who were inclined could strum, hum, sing or recite.
Without wishing to sound overly critical, the standard of the offerings we listened to in our brief sojourn on the outer of the assembled group did nothing to hold us here. By now we were both more than musically sated.
We still had much to do on the morrow.....an early night was the decidedly better option. But what a weekend this had been. The organisation, scheduling, performance standards and variety of musical and other treats provided were outstanding. No wonder the caravan park is booked out annually well beforehand. It was great to have been part of it.
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