There are myths they tell you about the outback. They tell you it’s barren, they tell you it’s bleak, they tell you there’s nothing to do but look out across the red earth and ponder what it means to be here, what it means to be human. When I visit Broken Hill, I learn the place proves those statements wrong in so many ways. And in the most profound, heart-wrenching and reality-affirming ways, it proves them right.
Known by the traditional owners of the land (the Paakantji, Mayyankapa and Nyiimpaa people) as Willyama, Broken Hill is Australia’s longest-operating mining town. A huge deposit of minerals (mainly silver, lead and zinc) beneath the city led to the establishment of the country’s first industrial mine back in 1885, and it’s been operating ever since. The city’s main streets are named after minerals ('Oxide Street' and 'Cobalt Street'), and many of the heritage buildings that line the main drag are (or were originally built as) drinking holes for the mining population.
Referred to by various monikers including "The Silver City", the "Oasis of the West", and the "Capital of the Outback", Broken Hill was given its English name by the explorer Charles Sturt because of its location close to the Barrier Range. And maybe there’s something in the term 'broken' that allows the town to subvert expectations.
In 1994, Broken Hill made its name as the queer capital of the outback, after Priscilla Queen of the Desert pulled up outside the Palace Hotel in all her glittery glory. Since then, the Palace has lent in to its drag royalty credentials, with frequent drag shows and a merch shop selling glittery thongs and sequin-studded hats. In 2015, the town hosted its first Broken Heel Festival – an ode to Priscilla that saw drag culture light up the town for five flamboyant days every year (the last festival took place in 2024).
The list goes on. Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior was filmed in the surrounding desert back in 1981, and a Mad Max enthusiast has established a must-visit museum in the nearby village of Silverton (a 20-minute drive from the centre of Broken Hill). Broken Hill and its surrounds are home to more than its fair share of art galleries (including the oldest regional gallery in the state), and in 2021, the Byron-born alt-pop band Parcels filmed the music video for their single ‘Free’ outside the Silverton Hotel.
All that’s to say: there’s a creative current that runs through the wide, sunburnt streets. It’s colourful and fun and progressive and interesting. But the shadow of the town’s industrial heartland is more than just a shadow. On the western side of the city, a 7-kilometre mound of mining debris forms a mountain-like shape above the streets. Striking, rust-iron buildings cut sculptural silhouettes into the skyline – one is a memorial for all of the miners who have lost their lives. If, for a second, you forget why this buzzing 17,000-person town exists in the middle of the outback, the Line of Lode is there to let you know.
During our three-day visit to this fascinating, spirited town, we watched the sun set over a spectacular sculpture park, rode camels through the outback, ate a divine three-course dinner at the town’s fine-dining restaurant and explored galleries and museums whose collections could put city establishments to shame. We drank at tavern-style pubs and velvet-fringed cocktail bars, we snacked at excellent cafés and old-school milk bars. We watched the stars from an incredible alfresco stargazing set up, guided by an astronomer who knew everything there was to know (within reason) about the galaxy, and we danced at the Palace Hotel in front of the very same stage where Priscilla’s iconic passengers strutted their stuff back in 1994.
On our last morning, after breakfast at The Silly Goat – the best café in town, serving up A-grade coffee and the type of menu which, if found in Surry Hills, would garner queues around the block – we drove up the huge, ominous ore body on the west side of the city to connect with why we were there.
The striking, abstract miners memorial on the top of the Line of Lode is an ever-present emblem of the scar that the mining industry has left not only on the landscape, but on the community. Inside, the names of hundreds of miners are etched onto glass, next to the year and cause of their death: crushed by timber, electrocuted, caught in machinery. The most common cause of death listed was “rock fall”, words that echo through your mind as you step out onto the metal grid platform that stretches out into the air above the mound. From this side of the memorial, the full scale of the mine – which is hidden from the centre of town – is laid bare. At the end of such a playful, fun-filled trip, it felt particularly profound to connect with the roots of the town – the storied, dark, essential scaffolding that Broken Hill as we know it has been built around.
As I looked out across the mine, past the city and for miles in every direction – red, saltbush-studded earth meeting deep blue, cloudless sky – I was forced to consider the legacy that humans leave, regardless of our rank or role or motive.
When I landed in Broken Hill, a friend sent me a text asking what I was doing there, and I told him: I think I’ll write a story like “I went to Broken Hill and this is why you should too.”
In a way, that’s exactly what I’ve done. But the reasons I’m giving aren’t the reasons I expected to. Yes, you should go to Broken Hill to see the incredible collection of paintings at the oldest regional art gallery in the state, to have your mind blown at the Mad Max 2 Museum, to watch the sun set behind the sculptures on the arc of a hill in the middle of the desert. You should go there to cuddle a baby goat and stroke a camel and dance to questionable karaoke songs at the Palace Hotel. But you should also go to Broken Hill to understand what it means to live in NSW – to eat foraged herbs that the traditional owners of the land have used for thousands of years, to look into the sky and see the dark shadow of the emu between the stars, and, yes, to look out across the red earth – in its state of disrepair – and ponder what it means to be human.
We’ll be dropping our guide to where to eat, drink, dance and explore in Broken Hill over the next few weeks.
Stay in the loop: sign up for our free Time Out Sydney newsletter for more news, food & drink inspo and activity ideas, straight to your inbox.