Never a dull moment on Unshackled Adventures… this time, another detour from the plan.
With the car battery starting to play up—and remote country ahead—we made the call to duck across to Broken Hill and get it sorted before pushing on.
We pulled in for the night at “The Valley” hobby farm stay, just 6km out of town. A hidden gem. Wide open spaces gave everyone plenty of breathing room, with a rustic camp kitchen and some of the cleanest, best-presented amenities we’ve come across yet.
By morning, we were back on track and rejoining the Darling River Run, following the Barrier Highway toward Wilcannia. Recent rains had transformed the landscape—lush, green, and teeming with life. Goats, kangaroos, and emus were everywhere, all looking healthy with plenty of feed about.
We rolled into Wilcannia around midday. Neither of us had visited before, and it’s a confronting place to drive through. The isolation is palpable. Boarded-up shops and a closed pub paint a picture of a town doing it tough.
Wilcannia has long carried a reputation, and it’s clear there are deep-rooted challenges—crime, alcohol issues, limited services, and public health concerns among them. Yet, it’s also a place of strong cultural significance. Over 60% of the population identifies as Indigenous, and the Barkindji people continue to maintain deep connections to Country along the Darling River.
Remnants of its past are still standing proud—the historic Athenaeum, old storehouses, and the 1896 Wilcannia Bridge, once a vital link for paddle steamers navigating the river trade.
That said, based on what we’d learned and observed, we made the decision to keep moving.
Crossing the Darling, we turned onto East Tilpa Road—kicking off a 360km stretch of dirt that had only just reopened after rain. Tyres down on both car and van, ready for the corrugations. Even with an off-road setup, these roads can punish gear, so lower pressures are essential. And if you’re travelling like this—a dust reduction system is worth its weight in gold. Pressurising the van keeps the red dust where it belongs… outside.
Out here, it’s all stations, grids, and endless horizons. A reminder of just how remote life is—and how tough it can be.
We camped that night on the Darling within Paroo-Darling National Park. Spanning over 178,000 hectares, it covers two arid catchments and protects a huge slice of outback ecosystem.
Our stop, Coach and Horses Campground, sits on the old Wilga Station—once home to a 19th-century hotel servicing paddle steamers and coach routes. You can almost feel the history.
The river was low but wide, with carp cruising through the shallows. Glenn wasted no time dropping a line… and let’s just say we weren’t eating fish that night—steak won.
We hit the road early the next morning, bound for Tilpa. Out here, we take it slow—soaking in the wildlife and scenery. One standout moment: a massive flock of black cockatoos feeding on seeding grasses. Magic.
Rolling into Tilpa felt like stepping back in time. Once a bustling river port, it’s now home to fewer than ten people—but what it lacks in size, it makes up for in character.
The Tilpa Hotel is the heart of it all. Corrugated iron, timber, and stories etched into every surface. Established in 1894, it’s a must-stop. We grabbed a cold beer and a proper pub burger—and met Patricia, the resident goat, who has a particular fondness for hot chips. A gentle headbutt is her way of asking you to share.
Another tradition: a gold coin donation to the RFDS (Royal Flying Doctor Service) to sign the pub wall. “Unshackled Adventures” is now part of Tilpa history.
Over lunch, the conversation turned to rain. And out here, you listen to locals. When they say it’s coming—you take it seriously.
So, plans shifted.
Instead of staying, we crossed the Tilpa weir and followed the west river road toward Trilby Station. Once part of the legendary million-acre Dunlop Station—home to the world’s first mechanical sheep shearing in 1888—Trilby is now a 320,000-acre working property run by Gary and Liz Murray and family. Merino sheep, goats, and now campers.
We grabbed a riverside site, lit a fire, and settled in with the sounds of station life all around us.
Next morning, a quick check-in with Liz confirmed it—rain was coming, and it could stick around. Her advice: unless you’re ready to bunker down for a week or more… head for Bourke.
We weren’t the only ones listening with the campground rolling out in convoy. Everyone is mindful that these roads are the lifeline for the stations out here. Keeping off them when they’re wet helps protect them, so once they dry, station owners can safely get back into town for essential supplies.
On the way, we stopped at Louth—a tiny town of around 70 people, once another river port. Today, it’s best known for the Louth Races, drawing thousands each August.
From there, it was on to Bourke via a mix of dirt and bitumen—challenging conditions that meant finding a “happy medium” with tyre pressures.
We rolled into Bourke around midday and set up at Kidman Camp, just north of town—recommended as the safest option.
Over the next few days, it became clear Bourke faces many of the same challenges as other remote towns. Security is tight—locked gates, barred shops, and controlled alcohol sales.
Despite that, we enjoyed exploring the town and diving into the history of the Darling. Skipping the visitor center, we opted for a self-guided river walk—and it delivered. Each stop had information boards and QR codes linking to short videos, bringing the stories of paddle steamers, explorers like Sturt and Mitchell, and Indigenous heritage to life.
One thing that stood out—just how dry Bourke was compared to everywhere we’d come from. Rainfall here is low and unpredictable, and drought is a constant threat.
But then… the rain arrived. The very roads we’d just travelled closed in behind us, yet across town you could almost feel a quiet sense of relief settling
In summary The Darling River Run is absolutely worth the trip—ideally with a 4x4.
We may have cut our journey short and missed Gundabooka National Park, but every kilometer delivered—dust, cattle grids, history, and a real insight into life along this iconic river.
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