Driving North
on the Silver City Highway from Mildura to Broken Hill, the landscape
gently fades from gum trees, dried grass and rolling hills, to the barren
soft mauve and sage hues of the Australian Outback. As the brutal brass
and pounding percussion of Brian May’s orchestra charged the air with a
driven urgency, I caught a glimpse of a dark mound in the distance, rising
dimly above the dusty horizon. Still 30 kilometers from Broken Hill, I
wasn’t expecting to see the Pinnacles so soon, or from the road. My eyes
were fixed in a lustful stare until I rode into town. After a quick check
of my maps, I rushed for the Pinnacles. Soon after passing the outskirts
of town, I was led to an unpaved road. With the Pinnacles ahead, I was
overcome with the revelation that I was on the very road that Max had used
to deliver the Rig. Like Max, I paused, stopping to ponder the enormity of
what was before me. |
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| As I continued to
drive alongside the Pinnacles, doubt and discouragement began to creep in.
The hills seemed recognizable, but there was no trace of the valley. Had
someone filled it in? Or had I, in my desperation, allowed the wrong set
of hills to lure me into their tangled web? As I took the path up the side
of a familiar mound, all was revealed. There was the hidden valley, and
the other Pinnacles in the background. Besides me, were the rocks that Max
confided in for protection, and behind me, the road He watched through the
telescope, the road that I drove in on. I scaled the rugged slopes, to the
top of Max’s Pinnacle, from where the view was even more amazing. I combed
the ground, hoping to find something Max had left behind, but found
nothing. |
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| I descended down into
the valley, only to find a fence blocking my way to the Compound grounds.
And so the groanings of a man’s heart are left unfulfilled. The road to
Silverton was a roller-coaster ride through a desert ocean. Carefully
examining every hill I overcame, I tried intensely to find the holy mount,
and the vast plain that lay at its feet. Before I could be rewarded with
assurance, I arrived in Silverton. I flipped open my brochure. There it
was: “Mundi Mundi (Mad Max) Lookout 4km” from town. I rode out again,
counting the kilometers on the meter, and finally, I had arrived. I stood
on the hill where Max gave life to the Rig, and where She met Her fate,
the hill where Max walked, shotgun in his hand, dog by His side, on that
sun-scorched blacktop: the image engrained in every true warrior’s heart.
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a viewer's tale of a journey - pictures and text contributed by and
© 2000 Karol Bartoszynski 
