Fish kill fears remain in Menindee
Published in Broken Hill Times and Sunraysia Daily, October 2024
18 MONTHS on from the Menindee fish kills which saw 30 million fish perish in the Darling-Baaka river in March 2023, the Menindee community says they’re on high alert for another fish kill event this Summer.
Kate McBride, a Menindee resident, river advocate and member of the Basin Community Committee, grew up in the Menindee area and says not enough has been done on the ground to prevent another environmental disaster on the lakes this Summer.
“Everyone is really alarmed and alert for fish kills,” she said.
“We’re warning authorities and ministers that this is likely to happen if we don’t manage this.”
Work has been done since the March 2023 kills into researching the health of the river system in the Connectivity Report and a report from the Chief Scientist, along with an environmental flush of water being sent down the river from the upper Menindee Lakes to tackle algal blooms in the lower Darling-Baaka in an attempt to restore the water quality.
However, Ms McBride said she doesn’t believe enough action has been taken to ensure the health of the river and lakes.
“We’ve seen the Chief Scientist Report that gave some really important recommendations looking at how we can avoid fish kills in the future,” she said.
“There’s also been a Connectivity Report, they’re probably the most important bits of work that have happened. Both incredible pieces of work that give us a pathway forward, but we aren’t really seeing the wheels hitting the road in terms of action to change the things that led to the last fish kills.”
Minimum flow rules, restrictions on flood plain harvesting and dam releases were some of the suggestions outlined in the Connectivity Expert Panel’s Final Report that was released in July.
“We are firmly of the view that the Government needs to take action now” was the recommendation of the Connectivity Expert Panel.
Ms McBride said she was disappointed that the report hadn’t resulted in more water being released down the river.
“We haven’t seen more water flowing down, or community input being treated as important in the decision making when it comes to WaterNSW and how they manage the lakes,” she said.
“In terms of making real change, we need to look at the fish passage at Menindee and how we can avoid the build-up of fish in those problem areas, and also restoring flows. They’re the two main things, and unfortunately, we haven’t seen concrete things done to help facilitate these changes.”
Menindee resident and Australian Floodplain Association Vice President Graeme McCrabb said he’s most concerned about the number of fish coming into the weir pool, which is a body of water that sits between Main Weir and Weir 32 in Menindee, and the lack of a fish passage to allow fish to travel upstream when the water in the weir becomes too low to support the number of fish.
Fish kill events are often the result of overcrowding of fish in the weir pool, which lowers the levels of dissolved oxygen in the water, causing fish to suffocate and die.
“It could be five times the biomass of fish in the weir pool, and that will be a struggle as we get towards the end of Summer” he said.
“I’m concerned. It [a fish kill event] will be in the last part of Summer and into next year if we don’t get any more in flow.”
WaterNSW responded to concerns about low levels of dissolved oxygen.
“The latest water quality information is currently showing the water column is well oxygenated with levels above the 4 mg/L upper critical level for fish health” they said, however adding that “an increase in temperatures over recent weeks has seen an increase in water temperature near the surface, which is causing an increase in algal activity and higher dissolved oxygen during the day.”
Sunset Strip homeowner Ross Ledra said he was also worried about the number of fish currently in the lakes.
“The amount of fish in these lakes, it’s unbelievable” he said.
“Flows are going to have to be managed very well with this number of fish in the system. If WaterNSW live up to their past, we’re going to see trouble again.”
WaterNSW said they are committed to trialling a short-term temporary fish passage solution for fish movement in the river at Menindee.
“The goal of the trial is to help fish migrate and reduce fish biomass in the Menindee town weir pool. Early community consultation took place over August and September this year in Menindee. The tender process closed in September and is currently being evaluated by a panel of experts” they said.
WaterNSW added that “the department does not always have the ability to take action to reduce the risk [of fish kills] because we only have a limited amount of water available to use for water quality management.”
They acknowledged that “hot summer conditions and reduced flows in the river can increase the risk of fish deaths.”
Barb Arnold, owner of historic property Bindara Station on the Darling-Baaka between Menindee and Pooncarie also said she is concerned that not enough water is being allowed to travel down the river system.
“One concern is the increase in extraction in the Darling upstream that of course has flow on affects for the rest of the Darling” she said.
Ms Arnold said she remembers the smell of the 2023 fish kills as fish caught in branches along the river decomposed, and said she was unable to drink the river water which she’d solely relied on.
At Bindara Station Ms Arnold hosts travellers in cabins along the river and she said she was forced to buy bottled water for her guests for months after the fish kill event.
“I’m against the change that took place when water was separated from the land and it became a commodity on the stock market” she said.
Ms McBride believes the over-allocation of water licenses in the Northern Basin needs to be assessed so that water can be returned to the system to ensure equity through the Murray Darling.
She said that over extraction of water in the Northern Basin, which covers 500,000 square kilometres across northern NSW and southern QLD, has turned the Darling-Baaka into the unhealthy river it is today, and has led to multiple mass fish kill events over recent years.
“There’s a real lack of understanding about how much water is being taken. Yet what we’ve seen in recent years is more licenses being handed out in the Northern Basin.”
The Menindee community have experienced multiple fish kills events as well as dry and wet years in the lakes, and Ms McBride said she believes the community's perspective needs to be taken more seriously when it comes to the management of the lakes and river.
“We’ve seen this for many years and there’s a lot of knowledge in the community on how best to deal with it. There’s frustration because we’re not included in the decision making or consultation process, “she said.
Mr Ledra believes appointing a Water Commissioner on the ground in Menindee could solve a lot of the problems when events requiring immediate action occur, such as fish kills or flooding.
“We’ve now got people based in Sydney, they haven’t got a clue” he said.
“They’re making decisions far too late; they’re not active, they’re reactive. We can’t have WaterNSW in Sydney, telling us about our own backyard.”
Ms McBride said she’s particularly concerned about fish kills this Summer due to the way water is being released and how the lakes are being managed.
“We’re watching the quality and quantity of water that’s coming through at the moment from the Northern Basin, and the reality is that in the last couple of months things have dried off, so we’re not likely to see those flows come down.”
Recent testing of algal samples at Copi Hollow, a caravan park that sits on Lake Pamamaroo, part of the Menindee Lakes, indicated an increase in recent algal activity, triggering an amber alert for recreational use that remains in place currently.
The NSW Government defined an amber alert as meaning “levels of blue-green algae may be multiplying in numbers” and that “the water should be considered as unsuitable for potable use… and may be unsuitable for stock watering.”
Despite this, Ms McBride remains optimistic that if action is taken quickly, the potential of a mass fish kill event can be reduced.
“I think if we see some substantial flows coming down the system, and there will be calls for embargoing water, meaning irrigators upstream can’t take water, it has to come downstream, that will help reduce the risk” she said.
“We also need to look at water recovery in the Northern Basin. That might look like buying back water.”
Above all, she said she hopes that the government will look at changing rules to ensure equity and connectivity across the basin.
“That’s probably the most important thing and it needs to be done immediately because the fish have already been through a lot, and so have the rest of the ecosystem that we haven’t paid as much attention to” she said.
“We can’t fully understand the impact on the ecosystem in its entirety just yet.”
If a fish kill occurs this Summer it will be The Darling-Baaka’s fifth fish kill event since 2018.
The Black Stump Hotel
Published in The Local Rag, June 2024
The Black Stump Hotel, an unassuming pub in Merriwagga, New South Wales is shrouded in outback mythology and local folklore.
There’s the tale of how the pub got its name; a woman named Barbara Blaine who burned alive in 1886 in the area, whose husband reportedly said “looked like a black stump”, or it could be because the surrounding area is known as “Black Stump Country”. Then there’s the legend of how the bar came to be so tall; the tallest in fact, in the southern hemisphere. It might be because it was built so that local stockmen could ride their horses into the bar, order a beer, and drink it without ever having to dismount. Owner Sharon doesn’t know which of the tales are true, however if you were to ask any of the locals drinking at the bar on any given night, they’ll likely tell you that they all are.
The town of Merriwagga is home to only thirty eight people. Yet an evening spent sharing yarns over a few beers at the Black Stump proves that no matter how small a country town, there’s an awful lot of tales to be told, and the pub is the place to tell them. Since the closure of the pub down the road in Goolgowi last year, The Black Stump has become the last remaining watering hole for the farmers, truckers and travellers in the area. I visited the Black Stump on a Thursday night in search of stories and was not in the least disappointed.
On arrival I was greeted by Kiersten, the bartender and a Canadian immigrant who is completing her regional work at the pub so she can acquire a visa to live with her Australian boyfriend in Sydney. The locals can’t pronounce her name so they call her ‘Miss Canada’ and some of the local truckers have even gone to the effort of writing a list of questions for her to ask farmers so she can make conversation while pouring beers. Some of the questions include “How many Jack Russells do you own?”, “Do you get much sleep?” and “Are you a horseback rider?” She has one month remaining and is looking forward to leaving, she tells me it’s been a very isolating experience being the only young person in town.
A group of regulars soon wander in; a three-legged Kelpie named Asshole who lost the fourth leg falling out the back of a ute, a farm worker named Greg, and a trucker named Brett. There’s a bloke with a moustache in high-vis who won’t tell me his name, but says he used to hunt buffalo with Rod Ansell, the original Crocodile Dundee. He also says he was the stunt horse-rider for the film Australia, and his horse ‘Skitzo' featured in many scenes. He’s a truck driver now, which is why he’s in town. There’s a local called Steve who says he used to work with Ivan Milat for the Department of Main Roads, building highways.
A man I met back at the local caravan park named Cookie wanders in and orders some spring rolls while watching the rugby on the television. Cookie is a nomad who’s been living on the road the past seven months in his van ‘Goanna’ (“because she’ll go anywhere, this old bastard.”) He’s mapped his route by finding a pub to drink at each night, and shows me photos of some of his favourites: Renner Springs and Daly Waters. He’s on his way back home now but has been looking for detours to delay his return, which is how we stumbled upon The Black Stump.
On the Black Stump’s front verandah, the locals tell me about the history of the area, and the occurrences at the pub. They’ve shot films at the pub, and actors have rode in horses to live out the myth of the reason for the bar’s height. Another reason for the bar’s height is hypothesised as being that at the time of the opening of the bar, the railway was being built across the road. Apparently the railroad workers were somewhat rough and would occasionally jump over the bar, so they had to increase the height as a deterrent. As we discuss whether any of these myths are true (Brett tells me “they’re all true!”) Sharon puts ‘Beyond The Black Stump’, a BBC film featuring the pub on the television for me to watch. Steve runs home and returns with a copy of his book ‘Tales of Tragedy from Gunbar’ by Aaron Grugan, that chronicles tales of the local area. Kiersten finds a folder behind the bar with printouts of stories featuring the pub from over the years.
Across the road some of the truckers point out the memorial stone to Barbara Blaine, the farmer's wife who burned to death while cooking dinner for her husband over the campfire, and whose husband supposedly gave the pub its name in describing how he found her. There’s a poem about the Black Stump legend by Stuart Clarke framed up on the wall. Sharon even has a copy of her death certificate, which notes she was thirty-two years old at her time of death and described her cause of death as “accidentally burnt at campfire.”
Sharon’s been publican of The Black Stump for twenty years now and says living here is like living with your family; sometimes they get on your nerves, but you like them all the same. “It’s a good atmosphere here, people want to talk to you” she tells me. There’s also another hidden benefit to the local pub in regional towns that Sharon knows all too well living among many ageing farmers; it doubles as a sort of welfare check for the local community. She says many of the elderly farmers will phone in daily to let her know whether they’ll be coming in for dinner so she knows whether someone needs to check up on them if they don’t come in. Without the local pub, if anything were to happen to these farmers in a rural town like Merriwagga, there’s a good chance nobody would know about it for quite some time.
The Black Stump celebrates its centenary in two years, and Sharon wants to plan something big to commemorate the milestone with the locals who keep the pub alive. It’s no small feat for a pub to continue running for a hundred years in a town this size, and as far as Sharon’s concerned, there’s many more tales to be told well after its hundredth birthday for The Black Stump Hotel.
The last of the outback cowboys
Published in Broken Hill Times, November 2024
ARNIE Degoumois, a Malyangapa man based between Packsaddle and Southern Far-West Queensland, might be the last remaining cowboy of his generation in the Far West.
Growing up in Tibooburra, Mr Degoumois’ father and grandfather both worked out bush, so working on station from an early age came naturally and without much thought.
“My grandfather and father did it all before me,” he said.
“I think I had it a lot easier than what they did.”
But listening to the tales he tells of his early days on the job, it’s hard to imagine a harder life in the outback.
“When I first got a station job I was fifteen years old,” he said.
“I remember passing the station to go out on country, and the next time I saw the station was three months later, on the way back through.”
He slept for months at a time in a swag, and said most meals were steak and kidney pie, steak, or occasionally for a treat, canned peaches with powdered milk. He said all meals were cooked over an open fire, even in the heat of Summer.
“Back in the day we’d stay out on country a long time, because it was such a long distance,” he said.
“We didn’t have much time to ourselves - the cattle were poor, the horses were poor. They were so dehydrated they’d lie down alongside us. It was the drought and it was something I’d never seen before - a horse lying down, it’s saddle still on. I don’t ever want to see a horse lying down like that again.”
He learned quickly to break in horses, and is celebrated in local legend for being able to break a horse in two days to take it out bush.
“The trick to breaking in a horse is getting to know the horse, you have to study it,” he said.
“We broke them in so quick because we had to, we needed to get the horse out working.”
Mr Degoumois recalls using these skills to compete at local rodeos on unbroken horses.
“I didn’t win but you more or less rode to see if you could get a woman,” he laughed.
Once out on a station while he was preparing a bull to be dehorned, the bull suddenly threw her head out, crushing Mr Degoumois’ finger under the pressure.
“My finger was just hanging down, and I looked at the camp cook beside me and said, well how am I gonna pick my nose with that?”
He wrapped his broken finger in toilet paper and an old cap, and drove himself back to the station.
“I called RFDS but back then they took a while to come out. So I found a big bottle of West End Draught beer, and I said oh I’ll wait til the devil comes, and drank it,” he said.
“And when they got here they said have you have any medication for this? I said yeah I did, I had a beer.”
Mr Degoumois said the first time he ever saw the ocean he was 23 years old and he didn't know what to make of it, other than being somewhat terrified by it.
“We called it the permanent water hole,” he said.
“I’d never seen anything before like that in my life.”
Nowadays he works as a contract fencer and musterer up in Southern Far-West Queensland. But you won't catch him on horseback anymore, he sticks to motorbikes and said his swag days are also behind him.
“The swag days are long gone, I sleep out there in a caravan now,” he said.
He said he’s seen a lot of changes to farming and mustering industry on outback stations, but the best of the changes have been allowing women to work alongside the men.
“Nowadays there's more women in camps than blokes,” he said.
“Back in the day, women weren’t allowed in the camps. But these women out here are tough as boots, I’ve never seen anything like it. The boys can’t stick it out, but the girls are still out here.”
This is my first rodeo
Published in The Local Rag, November 2024
The tiny outback town of Tibooburra, renowned for being the hottest place in NSW, hosts an annual gymkhana, bikekhana and rodeo each Spring.
As a fresh-to-the-outback, former city-slicker, I had to know whether the rodeo experience lived up to my romantic yet uninformed idea of it: a blur of line dancing, cowboy boots and men getting thrown off bulls.
The three day event began with a tried-and-true precursor to any outback event: a beer-fuelled Friday night at the two pubs in town, The Two Storey and The Family Hotel across the road.
I made the most of the opportunity to have a yarn with a few self-proclaimed rodeo regulars, who explained to me the basics: The Gymkhana is for horse events, The Bikekhana is essentially the same thing on bikes, and the most fun is on Saturday night when thrill-seeking cowboys and cowgirls decide to try their luck at riding the bull.
One of my new friends at the pub told me he was ‘clowning’ this year.
For the uninitiated, being a Rodeo Clown essentially means you’re the guy who has to distract the bucking bulls while the rider who fell off gets the heck out of the ring.
It also means you provide entertainment to onlookers by occasionally riling up the bulls if nothing dramatic has happened in a while.
This particular clown had rode the bull last year and shut down the whole event when he fell off and broke his shoulder and ribs.
Tibooburra doesn’t have a hospital and is serviced by a Royal Flying Doctors plane.
Unfortunately there’s only one plane available at any given time, so if you’re the second person to injure yourself at the rodeo they have no choice but to cancel the event entirely for everyone's safety. I began doubting my decision to partake in the spectacle of watching poor, angry bulls injure ambitious and seemingly foolish riders, so far from a hospital.
Saturday morning began with bacon and egg rolls from the rodeo tuckshop, instant coffee, and the children’s Gymkhana.
The first age group was six years and under which saw tiny toddlers riding tiny ponies, and some riding full sized horses.
In the 12-16 year old event I watched a young cowboy get thrown from his horse, dragged through the dirt by the reins, only to climb right back on and continue to compete.
The rodeo was certainly living up to its reputation.
More horse riding events including the classics like barrels (riding in a pattern around three barrels), bending, flag and the 200metre sprint ensued throughout the afternoon, as more beers were consumed by increasingly noisy onlookers. Bull handlers began directing bulls into the ring beside us.
Just as the sun began to set everyone wandered over to the stands in anticipation for the rodeo.
Cowboys dressed in jeans, boots and leather chaps leaned against the metal fence behind the bullpen, waiting for their time to ride.
To my surprise, the rodeo began with ‘mini bulls’, which looked far too similar to the full sized bulls, being ridden by children as young as seven. Most of the kids handled the experience surprisingly well, once again getting straight up and dusting the red dirt off their jeans.
Things began to pick up pace when the large, especially rowdy bulls were brought out for the adults to ride, and I watched in horror (and pleasure if I’m being real) as full size men were thrown from the bulls, one of which went back to lie on top of the cowboy who had just fallen off him (he was fine! Apparently.)
After the rodeo the band kicked off and everyone danced, although I didn’t get to make my rodeo line-dancing debut because apparently that isn’t something that happens at the rodeo, or this one anyway.
Sunday saw a similar morning as the one before; bacon and egg rolls and a slightly seedier crowd than the day before watching small children ride dirt bikes around an obstacle course, followed by the adults. After the bike events punters either packed up their swags or headed to the pub to relish in the glory of the rodeo.
Now that I’ve had a taste of the outback rodeo I plan to attend many more, if for no other reason than an excuse to wear my cowboy boots and pretend I’m a real cowboy and not a naive city girl. At least next time it won’t be my first rodeo.
The wild history of the Night Train
Published in Broken Hill Times, December 2024
ONE of the oldest pubs in Broken Hill, The Theatre Royal has a fascinating history of live music, violent brawls and drunken shenanigans, though today only opens for four hours per week on a Saturday night.
Opened in 1886 as the Exchange Hotel, the venue became Theatre Royal in 1890, was briefly named Hotel Argent in 1971 and then returned to Theatre Royal in 1984. The nightclub and live-music part of the venue was dubbed 'The Night Train' (or often colloquially The Fight Train) sometime in the 1970s.
According to documents provided by the Historical Society, the venue was a sporting hotel in the early 1900s and throughout its life has also hosted a theatre, billiard room, and at one time a skating rink.
Today, any mention of the venue will have those who lived through the Royal’s ‘Glory Days’ recalling stories of the nights they spent there seeing iconic Australian bands perform on the big stage.
Artist John Dynon said as a high-schooler he used to skip class to play snooker in the back room at the hotel.
“They had this little room in the corner with curtains on it, and we used to go there and play snooker,” he said.
“We were 15 at the time. You had to be over 21 to get in, but if they knew you they’d let you through.”
Nino Schembri said anytime actors came through town, they’d haunt the bar at the Theatre Royal.
“Actors would be in there,” he said, “and we used to go there for a drink and a dance, though I couldn’t dance much. Then at 3am when it closed I’d walk down to the Kookaburra Cafe, get two steak sangas and eat them on the walk home.”
Mr Schembri recalls this as being sometime in the late 80s.
Jamie Pettitt said he remembers going to the Night Train in his youth.-
“I started going there when I was 16, and first started drinking beer at the Night Train,” he said.
“Back then it was notorious throughout Australia, everyone was full on punching on, it was bloodshed.”
He said every night the Train opened there’d be a blue, and the bouncers wouldn’t shy away from throwing those involved over the staircase.
“I just stood back on watched what was going on,” he said.
“It was locals fighting one another. But the thing was once the fight was over and someone was beaten, you’d just pick them back up and dust them off and carry on.”
He said the police would line the street out the front of the venue waiting to throw brawlers into the paddy wagon.
“The cops back then has these old F100 paddy wagons with canvas over the back where they used to throw the boys who were blue-ing,” he said.
“They never locked it and people would just come up and let them out again. Once some bloke with a lighter set the whole thing on fire, so they threw him out and he just ran off down Argent Street.”
Mr Pettitt said when a band played the venue, “you couldn’t move in the joint, not at all.”
He remembers seeing Cold Chisel playing Khe Sanh on the main stage, a song that references Broken Hill in it’s lyrics from the ocean to the silver city.
“I remember Jimmy Barnes saying “The Train is the most notorious night club in Australia. I’ve never been to something so brutal in the world.””
Mr Pettitt said a jug of beer was about $2 at the Night Train in the late 80s, but he’d still often sneak in a flask of whiskey.
He recalled an occasion when an inflatable pool was brought into the venue and filled with water for punters to enjoy.
“One lad jumped off the balcony upstairs, into the pool, and broke his neck, so that was the end of that.”
Cheryl Holmes was a bartender in the early 90s, and said she’d work in the front bar til late, then knock-off and work the bar in the disco til 4am.
She recalled the Friday night Cold Chisel played, which she attended as a punter.
“Jimmy Barnes had been into the vodka and jumped into the crowd to crowd-surf, and I was one of the ones that caught him and held him up,” she said.
“They must have had words with him because he was much quieter when he played on the Saturday night.”
She said that during renovations of the venue in the late 80s, a contractor found a stack of money hidden in the walls.
“I guess there might have been a little bit of illegal gambling going on at some point,” she said.
“I reckon that’s maybe when the money was hidden.”
Tricia Hall also worked behind the bar at the Night Train for several years in the 90s, and said her grandparents were great friends with the owners at the time, the Gavas.
"We used to spend Christmas with them in the front bar," she said.
Ms Hall said she loved working behind the bar.
"I got to mingle with friends, and occasionally there might have been a fight but the bouncers were straight on it."
She said everyone back in those days would get dressed up and head down to the pub.
"It was such a good vibe, everyone was happy, there might've been the occasional blue between St Patty's weekend but other than that, it was just great."
Ms Hall speculated that liquor licensing laws and high insurance costs may be what's keeping the Theatre Royal and Night Train from being revived to it's heyday.
The front bar at the Theatre Royal only recently closed, with the Night Train, the nightclub in the main room that formerly hosted live music, open between 11pm and 3am on Saturday nights.
Cold Chisel play the Night Train. Picture: David Fuller