Claimed by the Murray

	Claimed by the Murray I remember the Murray River when her waters were as crystal clear as any mountain stream. I spent my eight years of schooling at No. L820 Koondrook State School, built in a great flood-prone horseshoe bend on the banks of the Murray. There were four large classrooms furnished with twin desks and shared inkpots. My first room held babies - first and second class - and it was presided over by Miss Helen, wielding her sturdy ruler. Woe betide anyone who was caught writing with a bent forefinger. Crack! the ruler spoke. The children cringed, eyes screwed tightly shut to hold back the tears. If anyone ‘blubbed’ Miss Helem ordered ‘into the corner!’ Tough tactics, but we learnt very quickly and seldom had a repeat performance. During lunch time or play breaks I ran to the big Red Gums hanging far out over the river. So the Murray and her great forests of gum trees claimed me for the rest of my life. During high water flows the exciting passenger boats came chugging by, splashing water over the flood banks from the churning paddle wheels. The whole school was allowed out to run and wave madly at the lucky passengers who waved back. A little further along the river the lift bridge would have to be wound up to let them pass through. The Marion was the biggest and best of the steamboats. In the early days the government built a holding weir at Torumberry. From there they released flows to service the main channels and from these into branch channels where the water wheels measured out our share of the precious stuff. What fights there used to be! In fact using the cover of night sometimes neighbours used to spy on each other! There were some real hullabaloos! Well just imagine if you were on the end of a branch channel and the next bloke up from you was a champion water thief, a deft hand at 'spragging' a wheel. Once a hefty pair of eighteen year old’s tempers flashed over such an event. Fists speak louder than words. Everyone was talking, “Gonna be a big fight.” So a time and place was set - down behind Dicky Basset’s shed. No gloves, no rules! Billy James banged a horseshoe against an old kerosene tin and they went at it, the crowd yelling encouragement: “Give it to him Ginger. The upper cut, the upper cut!” On the fight went till there were black swelling eyes, bleeding knuckles, bleeding noses. Finally after three adults intervened the boys agreed to call it quits. Honour had been satisfied. The two became good mates with a close friendship that lasted a lifetime, often recalling the battle with a ‘remember when?’ session. Barham Bridge photo Marge Donohue ©2002 A few of the far sighted farmers absolutely refused irrigation and continued dry farming. They were called ‘bloody old fools’ and laughed at. So our ancient land which had learned to cope with drought and flood was pushed into ever more exploitation by the growing demand for more water with the only source being the Murray. The great dams were built and the beautiful Snowy River blocked and turned inland; the water then released on to the thirsty Riverine Plain, in turn, releasing the vast menace of imprisoned salt which crept silently closer to the surface. Today we are faced with the truth of great tracts of land killed by rising salt. Today we know that indeed, the price of water is very high.


Hazel Hollingworth ©2003

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