The Ghost of Adaminaby
After nearly 60 years submerged, Adaminaby's streets are, for a moment, back in the sun
It was June-July 1957 that the residents of Adaminaby, nestled in the high country in southern New South Wales, started watching runnels of water creep from a gorge lower down the hill and begin filling their pastoral valley.
Eighteen months earlier a massive concrete wall had been constructed to check the flow of the Eucumbene River (created by snow melt) and gradually create a vast dam that at its peak would hold six times more water than Sydney Harbour. For months all this was happening out of view of the little township until one day in mid-1957 the water came into view – and didn’t stop until the town itself was drowned in the new Lake Eucumbene’s lightless depths.
Start of work on the Adaminaby Dam in 1954 to create Lake Eucumbene
Start of work on the Adaminaby Dam in 1954 to create Lake Eucumbene
This lake was to be the heart of the Snowy Mountains Hydro-Electric Scheme, a vast complex of alpine lakes, tunnels and underground power stations – listed by the American Society of Civil Engineers, at its completion in 1974, as an engineering wonder of the modern world. But before this, and before the waters lapped at the cement steps of the lowest of Adaminaby’s two hotels, the town was moved; all wooden buildings cut from their stumps and ferried on trucks to a new site 8 kilometres away.
Adaminaby Dam in 1959, a year after completion in 1958. Right, author Brad Collis on the pub steps in 2018
Adaminaby Dam in 1959, a year after completion in 1958. Right, author Brad Collis on the pub steps in 2018
The stone buildings, like the pubs, were bulldozed and they with their century of memories lay drowned under more than 70 metres of water for almost 60 years – partially glimpsed during drought in the early 1980s, the millennial drought of the early 2000s, and then in 2018 fully exposed. By August 2018 almost 80 per cent of Lake Eucumbene’s precious water resource had been drawn-off to feed drought-afflicted irrigators on inland plains and to meet the eastern seaboard’s escalating demands for low-cost electricity.
In 2018 barely 20 per cent of Lake Eucumbene's water remained
In 2018 barely 20 per cent of Lake Eucumbene's water remained
While the exposed brown mud banks are, for many, a stark illustration of Australia's long struggle to manage its scarce water resources, the chance to step through the ruins of this historic town is also a chance to reflect on a near forgotten history.
Where the ghosts live
On a hill about 2km south-east of the townsite is the old cemetery whose residents were spared the inundation and where headstones tell of a colourful past – colourful meaning lives of hardship and lives frequently cut short by the hazards of living and working in what was one of the most remote outposts in southern Australia. Chiselled into stone are records of deadly blizzards, falls from horses, carriage accidents, childbirth tragedy, snake bites, gunshot wounds, disease, and every other manner of death.
The two main industries following settlement in the 1830s were mining (copper and later gold) and cattle and sheep grazing. Stockmen who were familiar with the high country would capture wild brumbies (descendants of cavalry horses set loose at some point during the NSW colony’s early settlement days) to supplement their income. One particular group of stockmen called themselves 'The Men from Snowy River' and were led by pastoralist Alex McKeahnie. He occupies one of the more prominent graves in the Adaminaby cemetery … but perhaps not as noteworthy as the nearby grave of his son, Charlie. Charlie, when just 17, undertook an epic pursuit and capture of a particularly high-bred brumby that every stockman had tried, and failed, to harness. It was the story of this chase that was picked up by poet Banjo Paterson and adapted for his epic ballad The Man from Snowy River. It immortalised Charlie McKeahnie’s story, if not Charlie himself, who was dead at 27, killed after coming off another horse.
Wild brumbies remain a common sight in the area.
Wild brumbies remain a common sight in the area.
The main catalyst for Adaminaby being established as a township was the Kiandra gold rush, its position being half-way between Kiandra, higher up in the mountains, and Cooma. For close to a century, the outside world made only superficial impressions on the lives of the people in the Eucumbene Valley who held stoically to the values that typified for many the source of the true Australian psyche; the people of the High Country.
Even by the mid-20th century cars were few; sealed roads even rarer. Time was measured by the seasons; by the changing appearances of children from the wealthier grazing families whose brief visits in town marked the rotation of boarding school terms. Isolation had welded the High Country people into small, fiercely independent communities, but they were no match for the march of a nation transforming itself after World War II from pastoral and British to industrial and multi-cultural.
Main street of Adaminaby in the 1950s
Main street of Adaminaby in the 1950s
Today, until the snow melts again, agriculture’s thirst is quenched, and the water levels rise, you can immerse yourself in this history; tread among the stone foundations of a forgotten town. If you look carefully you will see clues to lives, histories and building layouts – rusted bedsprings, horse shoes, bolts, buckles, bits of bottles and the gnarled roots of what once were mighty courtyard trees. And everywhere, glinting in the early morning sun, little sparkles of metal and plastic – snagged fishing lures that will keep many a modern angler out of the tackle shops for years to come. Such is the changing nature of people through the passage of time. Trout now graze the valley plains and fishermen camp where once reposed men and their horses.
Some 101 buildings, including two churches, were moved from the original Adaminaby township to its new location. At the time many in the town were actually keen to move; the new township being built by the Snowy Mountains Hydro-Electric Authority would not only have a theatre and modern shops, but electricity and sewerage, putting an end to kerosene lanterns and outside ‘dunnies’.
Back into sunlight
The main opposition to the flooding of the valley came from graziers. Many were the 4th generation and deeply distressed by the loss of their land and their heritage.
Two of those affected by the flooding of their pastures were Dolly and Dudley Bolton who, as newlyweds, had only just started farming their own property, which included the site of the dam wall itself. Dolly’s great-grandfather, Tom Crowe, had taken up land in the valley in the 1830s. It took two years for the water to rise to within sight of the house in which Dolly had grown up. It was a daunting sight, watching familiar paddocks become an inland sea, and as the water neared the house it drove before it hundreds of snakes which took refuge in the building. This forced a tearful recognition that the end had finally come. Dolly and Dudley’s house would eventually be under 80 metres of water.
The rising waters of Lake Eucumbene reached their highest mark in 1973. Then, once the Scheme became fully operational they stabilised about 20 to 30 metres lower. This drop in the water level through 1974 allowed the recovery of the lake’s first drowning victims. One skeleton, still wearing fisherman’s rubber waders, was removed from the leafless branches of a previously submerged tree. Another skeleton, with a block of concrete chained to a bony ankle, was found on the muddy bank; its discovery solving a local murder-suicide mystery. A year or so earlier a woman had been found drowned in a farm dam, along with a note from her husband confessing to murder and stating that he intended killing himself. Police suspicions that he may simply have left the area and gone into hiding were dispelled by forensic tests on the skeleton. To date, at least 15 people have drowned in Lake Eucumbene. Several, including three Victorian policemen who went missing on a fishing trip, have never been found … the trout are particularly large in the deepest, darkest depths.
While the flooding was a traumatic time for the people of the valley there was one unusual episode to distract them. In July 1959 rumours that a Hollywood film was to be shot in the area were confirmed with news that international stars Peter Ustinov, Robert Mitchum and Deborah Kerr were seeking local houses to rent. They were coming to film The Sundowners, a drama about outback life, based on a novel by Australian writer Jon Cleary. The eager anticipation was realized three months later when 140 cast and crew moved in as temporary members of the local community. Robert Mitchum raised eyebrows by driving himself from Sydney, while technicians and crew from Warner Brothers arrived on a charter flight direct from London.
Sundowners flyer
Sundowners flyer
The people were proud their district had been chosen for such an international event. But shortly after filming began it rained for a week. The locals were inconsolable, and when Warner Brothers executives announced they would have to move the shoot to South Australia after heavy rain washed out the big bushfire sequence, a feeling of gloom settled over the district. The company executives were both astonished and warmed by the way the community had so passionately involved itself in the production, so they decided to stay put and hold out for dry weather. They rewarded the community by inviting everybody to become crowd extras in a country race meeting scene at the re-sited Adaminaby Racecourse.
Racecourse scene shot at Adaminaby racecourse
Racecourse scene shot at Adaminaby racecourse
The district was buoyed by the decision. The atmosphere became festive but the cast and crew of the film were openly saddened when they learned another beautiful town and valley at nearby Jindabyne was about to share the same watery fate as Adaminaby.
Jindabyne, however, was saved as a community. It had been quickly realised that relocating Adaminaby away from the water was a serious mistake for the town’s livelihood and future. Learning from this, the Snowy Authority simply moved Jindabyne further up the slope so that the ‘new’ town remained on the edge of its new lake.
For the full story:
https://www.booktopia.com.au/snowy-brad-collis/prod9780977502936.html?
The Snowy Scheme
