At first glance, Silverton looks like a town that time forgot.
Dusty streets.
Old stone buildings.
Rusting vehicles.
A classic outback pub.
A handful of houses scattered across an enormous landscape.
And beyond them, the Mundi Mundi Plains stretching towards a horizon that seems to go on forever.
It feels like the remains of an old Australian mining town.
Which it is.
But Silverton did something many fading mining towns never managed.
It found a second life.
After silver created the town and nearby Broken Hill almost emptied it, Silverton became home to artists, travellers and an extraordinary number of film crews.
Today, this tiny settlement outside Broken Hill may have fewer than 60 residents.
But there’s a good chance you’ve already seen it.
Probably on a screen.
Where Is Silverton?
Silverton sits about 25 kilometres north-west of Broken Hill in far western New South Wales.
This is classic outback country.
Dry.
Open.
Rocky.
Beautiful.
And enormous.
The Barrier Ranges rise through the landscape while the nearby Mundi Mundi Plains seem to disappear into the horizon.
It’s the kind of scenery filmmakers spend months trying to find.
Silverton has it sitting outside the front door.
Before Silverton Came Silver
The story begins with mining.
As prospectors searched the Barrier Ranges during the nineteenth century, silver and lead deposits were discovered in the area.
John Stokie, who had already discovered the Thackaringa Mine, found further deposits around what became the Umberumberka Mine west of present-day Silverton.
The developing settlement was initially associated with the name Umberumberka.
Apparently people weren’t thrilled with that.
Local history records that it was considered difficult to spell and not particularly attractive as a town name.
So they chose something slightly easier.
Silverton.
Considering silver was the reason everyone was there, it did the job rather nicely.
Then the Town Exploded
Silverton was surveyed in 1883.
In September that year, its population was about 250.
By the end of 1885, it had reached around 3,000.
That’s extraordinary growth for a settlement in remote western New South Wales.
People arrived hoping to make money from the mineral discoveries.
Businesses followed.
Hotels opened.
Shops appeared.
Government buildings were constructed.
Churches served the growing community.
Silverton became a proper mining town remarkably quickly.
For a brief period, things must have looked extremely promising.
Then somebody found something even bigger down the road.
Broken Hill Changed Everything
In 1883, Charles Rasp discovered mineralisation at a place known as the Broken Hill.
That discovery would eventually lead to one of the world’s great silver, lead and zinc mining fields.
Rasp and six others formed the Syndicate of Seven, and in 1885 they established the Broken Hill Proprietary Company.
We know it better by three letters.
BHP.
As Broken Hill’s enormous mineral deposits were developed, attention shifted away from Silverton.
People followed the work.
Businesses followed the people.
Silverton’s great boom began fading almost as quickly as it had arrived.
They Didn’t Just Leave the Buildings Behind
This is where Silverton’s story gets particularly Australian.
When people moved to Broken Hill, building materials were valuable.
So instead of simply abandoning useful buildings, some were dismantled or moved.
Local history records that buildings were transported from Silverton to Broken Hill on jinkers pulled by camels, bullocks or donkeys.
Imagine deciding you’re moving house.
And actually taking the house.
Across the outback.
Behind a team of camels.
Suddenly hiring a removalist doesn’t seem so difficult.
Silverton Shrunk
The decline continued.
Silverton’s Municipal Council, established during the boom years, ceased operating in 1899.
Buildings disappeared.
Businesses closed.
Broken Hill became the dominant centre of the region.
Silverton never completely vanished, but the bustling mining town of thousands became a tiny settlement.
Today fewer than 60 people live there.
Calling Silverton a ghost town, though, isn’t quite right.
There are still residents.
Businesses.
Artists.
Visitors.
A pub.
And every so often, a film crew.
Silverton is very much alive.
It just has considerably more elbow room than it did in 1885.
The Silverton Hotel Survived
One building became almost as famous as the town itself.
The Silverton Hotel.
Like any good outback pub, it became a gathering place.
But this pub has another claim to fame.
Film crews love it.
The hotel and surrounding town have appeared in numerous Australian and international productions.
Photographs inside record some of the movies filmed around Silverton, including Mad Max 2, Razorback, Mission: Impossible II and The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert.
Plenty of pubs have regular customers.
Silverton occasionally gets movie stars.
Then Mad Max Arrived
If one film cemented Silverton’s screen reputation, it was Mad Max 2.
Released in 1981, the film needed a landscape that looked harsh, isolated and almost post-apocalyptic.
The country around Silverton was perfect.
The vast Mundi Mundi Plains became part of the movie’s unforgettable visual world.
No elaborate computer-generated desert required.
Western New South Wales had already supplied the scenery.
All they needed to add were the vehicles.
And considerably more leather.
The Landscape Became a Film Set
Once filmmakers realised what Silverton offered, they kept returning.
Open plains.
Historic buildings.
Dusty roads.
Big skies.
Minimal modern development.
And Broken Hill close enough to provide services.
The result is a town that can convincingly represent another era, another country or, apparently, civilisation after the collapse of society.
Movies, television programs, advertisements and music productions have all used the area.
It’s now quite normal for visitors to wander around Silverton and recognise places they’ve seen before without immediately knowing why.
Then it clicks.
I’ve seen this somewhere.
You probably have.
Silverton Built a Museum for Mad Max
Silverton didn’t ignore its unexpected film history.
The town now has a Mad Max 2 Museum devoted to the movie and its connection with the area.
Displays include photographs, memorabilia, costumes and original or replica vehicles associated with the film.
For fans, it’s become a destination in its own right.
Which is quite a transformation.
Silverton began with silver.
Nearly disappeared because of Broken Hill.
Then a bloke called Mad Max helped put it back on the map.
Town planning rarely works like this.
The Mundi Mundi Plains Steal the Show
Drive beyond Silverton and the country opens dramatically.
The Mundi Mundi Plains stretch westward towards the horizon.
From the lookout, the landscape appears almost completely flat.
On a clear day, it feels enormous.
At sunset, colours spread across the sky and the plains seem to disappear into the distance.
It’s easy to understand why filmmakers love it.
There aren’t many buildings.
There isn’t much visual clutter.
Just land.
Sky.
Distance.
Lots and lots of distance.
The landscape doesn’t need a supporting actor.
It is one.
The Town Found Artists Too
Filmmakers weren’t the only creative people attracted to Silverton.
Artists arrived as well.
The outback light, old buildings, mining ruins and vast landscapes provided endless subjects.
Galleries became part of Silverton’s new identity.
Painters, photographers and other artists helped transform the old mining settlement into a small creative community.
Today art is one of the reasons visitors come to Silverton.
There’s something rather fitting about that.
The miners searched beneath the landscape for something valuable.
The artists looked at the landscape itself.
The Old Gaol Found Another Job
Silverton’s historic gaol also survived.
Today it operates as a museum containing collections connected with the district’s mining and social history.
Old photographs, household objects, mining equipment and medical items help tell the story of the people who lived in Silverton during its boom years.
It’s one thing to read that thousands once lived here.
It’s another to see the things they left behind.
Suddenly the quiet streets become easier to imagine crowded with miners, shopkeepers, families, horses and carts.
The empty spaces start filling themselves in.
Mining Was Hard Work
The romantic story of mining towns can sometimes hide what the work was actually like.
Nearby Daydream Mine, which opened in 1882, preserves some of that history.
Miners worked underground in narrow tunnels, often for long hours and with little more than candlelight.
At its peak, the mine employed close to 200 people, including children.
The conditions were difficult.
The work was dangerous.
Mining towns weren’t built from adventure alone.
They were built from hard physical labour.
Life in Early Silverton Wasn’t Easy Either
Mining wasn’t the only danger.
Silverton’s early residents lived in an isolated settlement with limited water, sanitation and medical services.
The historic cemetery provides a sobering reminder.
Local records describe typhoid, mining accidents and mining-related disease taking a heavy toll during the town’s early years.
It’s easy today to admire the picturesque ruins and historic buildings.
For the people who lived there during the boom, this wasn’t scenery.
It was life.
And sometimes it was extremely hard.
Then Came the Railway
Mining needed transport.
Ore had to reach markets and processing facilities.
In 1888, the Silverton Tramway Company began operating a railway connecting the South Australian rail system with the newly developing Broken Hill field via Silverton.
Local businessmen formed the company after requests for a government railway were unsuccessful.
The railway became an important part of the region’s mining industry.
Once again, Silverton found itself connected to something much larger than its size suggested.
The Town That Nearly Disappeared Became Valuable Because It Didn’t Change
There’s an irony in Silverton’s story.
Its decline preserved much of what now makes it special.
If Silverton had continued growing into a modern regional centre, filmmakers probably wouldn’t have been nearly as interested.
The empty spaces matter.
The old buildings matter.
The dusty roads matter.
The feeling that the modern world is somewhere over the horizon matters.
What once looked like decline eventually became character.
And character is difficult to manufacture.
Even the Donkeys Became Part of Silverton
Silverton has also become known for its wandering donkeys.
Visitors sometimes encounter them around town, adding yet another slightly eccentric element to the place.
Old pub.
Historic gaol.
Art galleries.
Mad Max museum.
Camels.
Donkeys wandering around.
At some point you simply stop asking questions.
It’s Silverton.
Go with it.
Silverton Isn’t Really a Ghost Town
People often describe Silverton as a ghost town.
It certainly has the atmosphere.
Ruins.
Abandoned structures.
Old mining sites.
A population tiny compared with its boom years.
But locals quite reasonably point out that Silverton isn’t abandoned.
People live there.
Artists work there.
Businesses operate.
Visitors arrive every day.
Films are still made.
The town didn’t die.
It reinvented itself.
That’s a much better story.
From Mining Boom to Tourist Town
Silverton’s reason for existing has changed several times.
First came mining.
Then transport.
Then decline.
Later came artists.
Filmmakers.
Tourists.
Road trippers.
Movie fans.
Photographers.
And people simply curious to see an Australian town that looks as though it wandered out of the nineteenth century and forgot to go back.
Silverton adapted.
Not by hiding its past.
By using it.
Why Silverton Feels So Australian
There are places where history has been polished until it feels almost artificial.
Silverton isn’t one of them.
The dust is real.
The ruins are real.
The old buildings carry their age.
The mining history isn’t hidden.
The landscape dominates everything.
You can stand outside an old stone building and look across country that seems almost unchanged since the first prospectors arrived.
That’s difficult to recreate.
And perhaps that’s why Silverton works so well on screen.
It doesn’t need to pretend to be the outback.
It is the outback.
A Town With More Stories Than People
Silverton’s modern population may be tiny.
Its stories aren’t.
There are mining stories.
Railway stories.
Stories about buildings being hauled away.
Artists.
Film crews.
Mad Max.
Old pubs.
Camels.
Donkeys.
And generations of people who decided this little settlement in far western New South Wales was worth keeping alive.
That’s an impressive amount of history for somewhere you can walk around fairly quickly.
Silverton – The Town That Refused to Disappear
Silverton should probably have vanished.
Its silver boom faded.
Broken Hill took over.
People left.
Buildings were literally carried away.
The council disappeared.
The population collapsed.
That could easily have been the end.
Instead, the things Silverton lost became part of what made it extraordinary.
The empty streets became film sets.
The old buildings became history.
The huge landscape attracted artists.
The pub became famous.
And a town built by silver miners found itself starring in movies watched around the world.
Silverton didn’t become the city its early residents might have imagined.
It became something far stranger.
A tiny Australian mining town with fewer than 60 residents…
and one very impressive filmography.
Only in Australia.
Silverton – The Tiny Mining Town That Became a Movie Star
At first glance, Silverton looks like a town that time forgot.
Dusty streets.
Old stone buildings.
Rusting vehicles.
A classic outback pub.
A handful of houses scattered across an enormous landscape.
And beyond them, the Mundi Mundi Plains stretching towards a horizon that seems to go on forever.
It feels like the remains of an old Australian mining town.
Which it is.
But Silverton did something many fading mining towns never managed.
It found a second life.
After silver created the town and nearby Broken Hill almost emptied it, Silverton became home to artists, travellers and an extraordinary number of film crews.
Today, this tiny settlement outside Broken Hill may have fewer than 60 residents.
But there’s a good chance you’ve already seen it.
Probably on a screen.
Where Is Silverton?
Silverton sits about 25 kilometres north-west of Broken Hill in far western New South Wales.
This is classic outback country.
Dry.
Open.
Rocky.
Beautiful.
And enormous.
The Barrier Ranges rise through the landscape while the nearby Mundi Mundi Plains seem to disappear into the horizon.
It’s the kind of scenery filmmakers spend months trying to find.
Silverton has it sitting outside the front door.
Before Silverton Came Silver
The story begins with mining.
As prospectors searched the Barrier Ranges during the nineteenth century, silver and lead deposits were discovered in the area.
John Stokie, who had already discovered the Thackaringa Mine, found further deposits around what became the Umberumberka Mine west of present-day Silverton.
The developing settlement was initially associated with the name Umberumberka.
Apparently people weren’t thrilled with that.
Local history records that it was considered difficult to spell and not particularly attractive as a town name.
So they chose something slightly easier.
Silverton.
Considering silver was the reason everyone was there, it did the job rather nicely.
Then the Town Exploded
Silverton was surveyed in 1883.
In September that year, its population was about 250.
By the end of 1885, it had reached around 3,000.
That’s extraordinary growth for a settlement in remote western New South Wales.
People arrived hoping to make money from the mineral discoveries.
Businesses followed.
Hotels opened.
Shops appeared.
Government buildings were constructed.
Churches served the growing community.
Silverton became a proper mining town remarkably quickly.
For a brief period, things must have looked extremely promising.
Then somebody found something even bigger down the road.
Broken Hill Changed Everything
In 1883, Charles Rasp discovered mineralisation at a place known as the Broken Hill.
That discovery would eventually lead to one of the world’s great silver, lead and zinc mining fields.
Rasp and six others formed the Syndicate of Seven, and in 1885 they established the Broken Hill Proprietary Company.
We know it better by three letters.
BHP.
As Broken Hill’s enormous mineral deposits were developed, attention shifted away from Silverton.
People followed the work.
Businesses followed the people.
Silverton’s great boom began fading almost as quickly as it had arrived.
They Didn’t Just Leave the Buildings Behind
This is where Silverton’s story gets particularly Australian.
When people moved to Broken Hill, building materials were valuable.
So instead of simply abandoning useful buildings, some were dismantled or moved.
Local history records that buildings were transported from Silverton to Broken Hill on jinkers pulled by camels, bullocks or donkeys.
Imagine deciding you’re moving house.
And actually taking the house.
Across the outback.
Behind a team of camels.
Suddenly hiring a removalist doesn’t seem so difficult.
Silverton Shrunk
The decline continued.
Silverton’s Municipal Council, established during the boom years, ceased operating in 1899.
Buildings disappeared.
Businesses closed.
Broken Hill became the dominant centre of the region.
Silverton never completely vanished, but the bustling mining town of thousands became a tiny settlement.
Today fewer than 60 people live there.
Calling Silverton a ghost town, though, isn’t quite right.
There are still residents.
Businesses.
Artists.
Visitors.
A pub.
And every so often, a film crew.
Silverton is very much alive.
It just has considerably more elbow room than it did in 1885.
The Silverton Hotel Survived
One building became almost as famous as the town itself.
The Silverton Hotel.
Like any good outback pub, it became a gathering place.
But this pub has another claim to fame.
Film crews love it.
The hotel and surrounding town have appeared in numerous Australian and international productions.
Photographs inside record some of the movies filmed around Silverton, including Mad Max 2, Razorback, Mission: Impossible II and The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert.
Plenty of pubs have regular customers.
Silverton occasionally gets movie stars.
Then Mad Max Arrived
If one film cemented Silverton’s screen reputation, it was Mad Max 2.
Released in 1981, the film needed a landscape that looked harsh, isolated and almost post-apocalyptic.
The country around Silverton was perfect.
The vast Mundi Mundi Plains became part of the movie’s unforgettable visual world.
No elaborate computer-generated desert required.
Western New South Wales had already supplied the scenery.
All they needed to add were the vehicles.
And considerably more leather.
The Landscape Became a Film Set
Once filmmakers realised what Silverton offered, they kept returning.
Open plains.
Historic buildings.
Dusty roads.
Big skies.
Minimal modern development.
And Broken Hill close enough to provide services.
The result is a town that can convincingly represent another era, another country or, apparently, civilisation after the collapse of society.
Movies, television programs, advertisements and music productions have all used the area.
It’s now quite normal for visitors to wander around Silverton and recognise places they’ve seen before without immediately knowing why.
Then it clicks.
I’ve seen this somewhere.
You probably have.
Silverton Built a Museum for Mad Max
Silverton didn’t ignore its unexpected film history.
The town now has a Mad Max 2 Museum devoted to the movie and its connection with the area.
Displays include photographs, memorabilia, costumes and original or replica vehicles associated with the film.
For fans, it’s become a destination in its own right.
Which is quite a transformation.
Silverton began with silver.
Nearly disappeared because of Broken Hill.
Then a bloke called Mad Max helped put it back on the map.
Town planning rarely works like this.
The Mundi Mundi Plains Steal the Show
Drive beyond Silverton and the country opens dramatically.
The Mundi Mundi Plains stretch westward towards the horizon.
From the lookout, the landscape appears almost completely flat.
On a clear day, it feels enormous.
At sunset, colours spread across the sky and the plains seem to disappear into the distance.
It’s easy to understand why filmmakers love it.
There aren’t many buildings.
There isn’t much visual clutter.
Just land.
Sky.
Distance.
Lots and lots of distance.
The landscape doesn’t need a supporting actor.
It is one.
The Town Found Artists Too
Filmmakers weren’t the only creative people attracted to Silverton.
Artists arrived as well.
The outback light, old buildings, mining ruins and vast landscapes provided endless subjects.
Galleries became part of Silverton’s new identity.
Painters, photographers and other artists helped transform the old mining settlement into a small creative community.
Today art is one of the reasons visitors come to Silverton.
There’s something rather fitting about that.
The miners searched beneath the landscape for something valuable.
The artists looked at the landscape itself.
The Old Gaol Found Another Job
Silverton’s historic gaol also survived.
Today it operates as a museum containing collections connected with the district’s mining and social history.
Old photographs, household objects, mining equipment and medical items help tell the story of the people who lived in Silverton during its boom years.
It’s one thing to read that thousands once lived here.
It’s another to see the things they left behind.
Suddenly the quiet streets become easier to imagine crowded with miners, shopkeepers, families, horses and carts.
The empty spaces start filling themselves in.
Mining Was Hard Work
The romantic story of mining towns can sometimes hide what the work was actually like.
Nearby Daydream Mine, which opened in 1882, preserves some of that history.
Miners worked underground in narrow tunnels, often for long hours and with little more than candlelight.
At its peak, the mine employed close to 200 people, including children.
The conditions were difficult.
The work was dangerous.
Mining towns weren’t built from adventure alone.
They were built from hard physical labour.
Life in Early Silverton Wasn’t Easy Either
Mining wasn’t the only danger.
Silverton’s early residents lived in an isolated settlement with limited water, sanitation and medical services.
The historic cemetery provides a sobering reminder.
Local records describe typhoid, mining accidents and mining-related disease taking a heavy toll during the town’s early years.
It’s easy today to admire the picturesque ruins and historic buildings.
For the people who lived there during the boom, this wasn’t scenery.
It was life.
And sometimes it was extremely hard.
Then Came the Railway
Mining needed transport.
Ore had to reach markets and processing facilities.
In 1888, the Silverton Tramway Company began operating a railway connecting the South Australian rail system with the newly developing Broken Hill field via Silverton.
Local businessmen formed the company after requests for a government railway were unsuccessful.
The railway became an important part of the region’s mining industry.
Once again, Silverton found itself connected to something much larger than its size suggested.
The Town That Nearly Disappeared Became Valuable Because It Didn’t Change
There’s an irony in Silverton’s story.
Its decline preserved much of what now makes it special.
If Silverton had continued growing into a modern regional centre, filmmakers probably wouldn’t have been nearly as interested.
The empty spaces matter.
The old buildings matter.
The dusty roads matter.
The feeling that the modern world is somewhere over the horizon matters.
What once looked like decline eventually became character.
And character is difficult to manufacture.
Even the Donkeys Became Part of Silverton
Silverton has also become known for its wandering donkeys.
Visitors sometimes encounter them around town, adding yet another slightly eccentric element to the place.
Old pub.
Historic gaol.
Art galleries.
Mad Max museum.
Camels.
Donkeys wandering around.
At some point you simply stop asking questions.
It’s Silverton.
Go with it.
Silverton Isn’t Really a Ghost Town
People often describe Silverton as a ghost town.
It certainly has the atmosphere.
Ruins.
Abandoned structures.
Old mining sites.
A population tiny compared with its boom years.
But locals quite reasonably point out that Silverton isn’t abandoned.
People live there.
Artists work there.
Businesses operate.
Visitors arrive every day.
Films are still made.
The town didn’t die.
It reinvented itself.
That’s a much better story.
From Mining Boom to Tourist Town
Silverton’s reason for existing has changed several times.
First came mining.
Then transport.
Then decline.
Later came artists.
Filmmakers.
Tourists.
Road trippers.
Movie fans.
Photographers.
And people simply curious to see an Australian town that looks as though it wandered out of the nineteenth century and forgot to go back.
Silverton adapted.
Not by hiding its past.
By using it.
Why Silverton Feels So Australian
There are places where history has been polished until it feels almost artificial.
Silverton isn’t one of them.
The dust is real.
The ruins are real.
The old buildings carry their age.
The mining history isn’t hidden.
The landscape dominates everything.
You can stand outside an old stone building and look across country that seems almost unchanged since the first prospectors arrived.
That’s difficult to recreate.
And perhaps that’s why Silverton works so well on screen.
It doesn’t need to pretend to be the outback.
It is the outback.
A Town With More Stories Than People
Silverton’s modern population may be tiny.
Its stories aren’t.
There are mining stories.
Railway stories.
Stories about buildings being hauled away.
Artists.
Film crews.
Mad Max.
Old pubs.
Camels.
Donkeys.
And generations of people who decided this little settlement in far western New South Wales was worth keeping alive.
That’s an impressive amount of history for somewhere you can walk around fairly quickly.
Silverton – The Town That Refused to Disappear
Silverton should probably have vanished.
Its silver boom faded.
Broken Hill took over.
People left.
Buildings were literally carried away.
The council disappeared.
The population collapsed.
That could easily have been the end.
Instead, the things Silverton lost became part of what made it extraordinary.
The empty streets became film sets.
The old buildings became history.
The huge landscape attracted artists.
The pub became famous.
And a town built by silver miners found itself starring in movies watched around the world.
Silverton didn’t become the city its early residents might have imagined.
It became something far stranger.
A tiny Australian mining town with fewer than 60 residents…
and one very impressive filmography.
