In the red-earthed outback of Broken Hill, a music festival met the oldest of human adversaries — weather that does not negotiate. When record rains turned the Mundi Mundi Bash campgrounds to mud and sent five thousand ticketholders away at the gate, the organisers faced a choice familiar to anyone who has ever tried to hold something beautiful together against the odds. They chose to open the gates anyway, offering the final day free to those still waiting in town, and the music played.