Updated
Across New South Wales and Queensland's southern
downs, country towns are approaching their own 'day zero', as water
supplies dry up in the drought.
Key points:
- Water security is still almost non-existent for many rural communities, with 10 towns at risk of running dry in six months
- Locals in Tenterfield are not washing cars or watering gardens and are cutting back on showers
- Even in high rainfall areas like Walcha, locals are enduring constant water restrictions
Ten towns, including major centres, are considered to be at high risk of running out within six months, if it doesn't rain and if water infrastructure isn't improved.
Councils are rushing to put emergency measures in place, but more than a decade since the end of the millennium drought, water security is still almost non-existent for many rural communities.
Early learnings
In a small country preschool in northern New South Wales, children start each morning with the same lesson: If it's yellow, let it mellow.Tenterfield preschool director Chloe Daly reminds the students not to flush their number ones.
"Who can tell me why we don't flush the toilet when we do a wee anymore?" she asks.
"Because we're in a drought," they chime.
"And what does a drought mean?"
"It means we're running out of water!"
The children practice how to wash their hands without wasting a drop. The tap stays off while the soap's rubbed in and they count quickly to 10 as the water washes it off.
"Because otherwise the fish will die and we won't be able to drink," they say.
Habits are being honed early because Tenterfield is running out of this most precious resource. The town's dam is two thirds empty and the bore that supplements supply could fail any day.
Locals have had to severely cut back their water use and are not allowed to wash cars or water gardens. Many are following the council's advice and showering less too.
"I don't like to say this, but I have a shower every second or third day, and then it's a really quick one," antiques store owner Elizabeth Macnish explains.
She normally opens her home on Airbnb, but recently closed it because guests were using too much water.
"They just don't care. They say, 'We're paying. Too bad, too sad for you'," she says.
Flower farmer Mandy Reid also apologises for not showering.
"Luckily it's winter and we can get away with it," she chuckles.
But the laughter turns to tears when she shows the oldest section of her 23-year-old nursery, where decades of toil, love and care have been reduced to lifeless, brittle limbs.
Ms Reid has not set foot in this part of the garden for four months because she finds it too upsetting.
"You only get one chance to build a garden — a good mature garden. This was mine, but it's gone," she says.
Silver birch and snowball trees will have to be ripped out; their leaves crumple in her hands.
"It's all dead," she says flatly.
She longs for flooding rain, but according to the Bureau of Meteorology's long-range forecast, that is unlikely anytime soon.
Time running out
Tenterfield Mayor Peter Petty recalls a time when the dam was even lower, at just 19 per cent capacity."But in one night, it rained and built up 13 inches," he recalls.
Mr Petty's hoping a plan to find new bores, with the help of State Government funding, will save Tenterfield from its "worst-case scenario": trucking in water.
That, for any town, is a hugely inefficient and expensive challenge and he says it would put an extra 1,400 B-double trucks on the road each month.
"If it happens, I'll hang my head in shame that we'd let the community down," Mr Petty says.
But what if it doesn't rain and new bores are not successful?
"We're buggered," he admits.Bigger centres like Tamworth and Orange, and potentially Dubbo and Armidale, plus smaller towns like Cobar, Narromine and Nyngan are all considered to be at "high risk" of running out within six months if things do not change.
Across the border in Queensland, water shortages are biting hard in towns like Stanthorpe and Warwick, which are inching towards emergency restrictions.
Southern Downs Shire Mayor Tracy Dobie says water may have to be carted from Warwick to Stanthorpe in December, and she fears ratepayers may have to foot the bill.
"We could be looking at anything from $500,000 to $1.5 million per month, to transport the water, depending on how far we have to truck it from," she says.
Trucks are already a big part of the landscape in southern Queensland and northern New South Wales, carting livestock between saleyards and abattoirs.
But water restrictions are making those journeys longer, more expensive and messier, because councils have closed the wash stations drivers use to clean excrement from their vehicles.
The closures have forced trucks to driver further south to Walcha, in New England, where one wash station remains open.
"I think our council understands the importance of the cattle industry around here, that we need to be able to manage our effluent for biosecurity. We just can't keep building it up in the trailer," freight transport company owner Chris Betts explains.
But he's worried about the strain that's putting on his own town's water supply. A dirty truck needs to be hosed down constantly for three hours, and with Walcha sitting on severe water restrictions, Mr Betts knows the wash station could close any day.
Promises and pledges
Walcha is regarded as a high rainfall area, but locals are constantly on water restrictions. The town gets its water from the Macdonald River and flows are pumped into the town's reservoir, but in the past year the river has stopped flowing a record nine times. Now there is 120 days' supply left.The council is hurriedly finishing a feasibility study to build another off-stream storage in the hope it will drought-proof the town in future.
Long-time locals like stock and station agent Bruce Rutherford support that proposal, but say water storage has been "talked about" for decades.
He and his wife, Sal, have lived in Walcha for 33 years and run a small farm on the outskirts of town. They were drawn to the area partly because of its high rainfall records, but now their dams are dry.
Mr Rutherford writes a column for the local newspaper and recently used it to call out a lack of foresight when it comes to water security.
"Part of the problem has been that local council hasn't been aggressive enough in chasing this as being an end result for Walcha," he says.
"I think governments, periodically, have supported some sort of (water infrastructure) facility to be built here and they seem to run out of money once we get going with the idea."
It is a familiar story for many rural communities, where water projects have been promised and pledged, but the funding and action are too slow to arrive, leaving communities like Walcha dry.
Walcha Mayor Eric Noakes is confident the latest plan to build a new dam will succeed because "it's easier to get noticed" at the moment.
He has been buoyed by the interest from the New South Wales Government, which has spent $650 million on water infrastructure in the past 18 months.
But regional town water supply coordinator James McTavish says the situation could still get worse.
"The next three months is looking very very dry and we're looking at the potential of an El Nino over summer," he says.
"That'll mean that inflows into those major storages will continue to be less than we would like."
And what if the drought suddenly breaks, filling thirsty dams and rivers?
Bureaucrats quietly say they are worried the current "urgency" to help country towns sure up water supply will be lost.
The Federal Government has a $1.3 billion National Water Infrastructure Development Fund, to help state, territory and local governments fund appropriate projects.
Seven are currently under construction, but in the six years since the fund's inception, nothing has actually been completed.
The sheer cost of water infrastructure makes it too expensive for local governments to manage alone, and red tape and disagreements between state and federal governments often drag the process out.
Mr Rutherford describes the situation as a "political nightmare" and he's frustrated by the bureaucracy.
"In the country, we're always looking to attract industry, but no one's going to come when there's no water."
Photo:
Pejar Dam, the main water supply for more than 24,000 people in the NSW town of Goulburn, pictured on May 27, 2005. (Reuters: Tim Wimborne)
Photo:
Pejar Dam has benefited from improved infrastructure and Goulburn residents have become more water wise. (July, 2019) (ABC News: Lucy Barbour)
Hover and slide
Successful legacy
One town where benefits have flowed is Goulburn, in southern New South Wales. During the eight-year-long millennium drought, Goulburn residents were stuck on extreme, level-five water restrictions."It was almost shower-with-a-friend time," Mayor Bob Kirk recalls with a laugh.
But today the dams are three quarters full. In the depths of that natural disaster, heavy lobbying saw the council win state and federal funding to help raise a dam wall and build a pipeline.
But Mr Kirk says it "absolutely" took an emergency for governments to act.
Since then, new industry has come to town, including a large brewery that co-owner Anton Szpitalak says would not be able to operate "without a guaranteed supply of water."
Plans for a large poultry processing plant are also currently before the council.
But it takes more than big builds and business to drought-proof a town. Mr Kirk says he is just as impressed with the Goulburn community, which has not forgotten the lessons of harsh water restrictions.
"People were standing in the shower with one leg in the bucket to let the water run in. They learnt to make good use of the water, to change their habits and practices, even in their gardening methods and storing water in tanks."
A recent report to council showed Goulburn's water consumption is currently the same as it would be if the town was on level-three water restrictions.
"So Goulburn residents are still adopting water-wise practices," Mr Kirk says proudly.
Proof that hard-won wisdom can become a lasting legacy.
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