When the River Runs Black
21.04.2025 Tom Wolff
Last week I walked out from a magical bushwalk in a wild corner of Lutruwita Tasmania and finished it with a frigid swim in the upper reaches of the Franklin River – one of the last true wild and unimpeded rivers in the world. Today I stood and watched aquatic life of all kinds frantically grasping for oxygen in the river of my childhood. To say these two experiences feel poles apart feels like a gross understatement.
By now you may or may not be aware that a familiar post-flood phenomenon is occurring. Across floodplains that were soaked in the deluges brought by Cyclone Alfred, the death and decay of plant species ill-suited to their location is beginning to cause blackwater discharges across the Northern Rivers. As per usual, the epicentre appears to be on the most unhealthy river in the region and the one I know best — the Richmond. It is the latest in over eighty fish kills that have occurred in this particular river since the 1970s.
For those who have witnessed the dead or dying fish, it can be an understandably traumatic experience. In some cases, this experience eventually morphs into anger at the injustice and occasionally ends in a desire to attribute blame towards someone, or something. But hard truths are rarely simple. The only real answer, or the one I find most accurate, is that fish kills of this nature are the direct result of slow yet unrelenting process of colonisation. I've often said, in many different arrangements of words on a screen, that the rivers bear the greatest brunt of collective mistakes made over many generations. It is moments such as these where that statement feels most potent. To watch fish and eels gulping whatever oxygen they can from small drains running into a vast river is an unnerving experience and one I don't recommend. These animals are the victims of a history they played no part in creating.
There are things that can be done, of course. We know the lowest lying areas of our floodplains contribute to the vast majority of blackwater discharges. Wetland restoration — the filling in of historical drains and the resumption of agricultural land with often marginal productivity — will begin to address these problems. It will take time but you have to start somewhere. The science on the issue of wetland restoration in our region is now sound and backed up by decades of incredible hard work and research. But in an era where science often takes a backseat to opinion and dogma, the problem becomes infinitely trickier.
To turn the tide on blackwater would require some very brave decisions from a bureaucratic structure — at both local and state levels — that seems more averse to risk with every year that goes by. What promotes change? As far as I can tell, sustained pressure from the voting public is the most effective lever for the legislative change required to address a problem like this. It all comes back to telling a good story.
Until these changes happen — and they will happen eventually, of that I'm sure — we will have to acquaint ourselves with grief and loss in our river systems. The same goes for the state of our climate. Recently I read a piece by a writer and friend Bert Spinks "A Map of What Has Burnt" on the fires that tore across the wild areas of Lutruwita this summer. To conclude the story, he said,
"As far as I can tell, in the future we will lose much more of the land that we have loved. Apparently all there is to do is to love it, nevertheless."
In the past this observation may have resonated differently, but after my own personal experiences of grieving over the past nine months or so I have realised it is always better to face these experiences head-on. To name them, understand them and share in the sadness they bring. That isn't to say it should define our lives but instead inform how we move forward; how we love the Country that sustains us.
In my experience if you love something enough you'll do all you can to care for it.
We recommend you also read An Open Letter to the Premier of NSW. This letter is addressing the devastation of blackwater, and was sent with 763 signatures to Chris Minns on the 27th of March.