Sheep
and cattle grazed the high country of New South Wales, Australia for 135
years in what is now a national park. Introduced to the area as early as
the 1820s, grazing animals were progressively excluded over a period of
time as legislative changes were applied and the “Kosciuszko State Park"
was declared in 1944, (becoming a national park in 1967). The last
grazing leases ended in 1972.
The
impacts of more than a century of grazing and associated burning
practices changed the vegetation and the alpine landscape. Especially
tasty species, such as alpine celery, were almost completely removed by
selective grazing. Fires were deliberately lit by graziers to encourage
fresh green growth of grasses to feed their animals. Fires also left
soils exposed and vulnerable to frost heave and once lifted and
softened, the soils would quickly wash away with the next rain or melted
snow. Snow patches became deep bare hollows which expanded each year.
Once
grazing ceased, erosion control works were undertaken by the NSW Soil
Conservation Service in the 1960s and 1970s. I worked for the NSW Soil
Conservation Service, first in Goulburn and then in Cooma, from
1983-87. My boss, John, had been involved in the planning and
construction of works in the national park area in the 1970s. After the
erosion control works were implemented, an extensive monitoring period
followed, focussed on assessing how these areas were recovering. When I
was transferred to Cooma, NSW to work with John, I was able to learn
about this work from him as well as being able to plan and supervise
other revegetation and stabilization works in the National Park each
summer. Each January we trekked to the monitoring plots
to assess the
revegetation. This was part of my job as “Soil Conservationist –
Mountains.”
We
had to wait until most of the snow had melted each spring to gain access
to the sites to monitor the vegetation plots. John and I would choose a
week in January to do this work. We would get ready early in the day,
then drive to where the road ends at Charlotte’s Pass, and walk to the
monitoring sites. Each stage of the journey took us higher up the
mountains. We would take everything we needed for the day on our backs
and in jacket pockets - food, drink, pens, notebooks, camera, additional
wet weather gear, and radio.
Initially our walk headed downhill through the scattered olive green and
dark brown trunks of the black sallee woodland (a sub-alpine eucalyptus
species), to the Snowy River where we waded across in knee-deep, icy
clear water. After a few steps our feet were numb from the cold,
stubbing toes on the rounded granite cobbles in the river—what a relief
to put boots back on when we got to the other side! It was all uphill
after that to the Main Range. After a short distance we’d trekked above
the 1800m treeline, the black sallees were behind us and
then
it was
alpine grasses, low heathy shrubs and groundcover species. Thin cold
thin air challenged my fitness. My boss, a smoker, muttered to himself
often, about giving up the cigarettes, particularly on the uphill
climbs.
As we
approached the vegetation plots we left the main track and walked over
hummocky soft snow grasses and around bogs to reach the ridge. It was
heavy going—like walking in soft sand. I found myself looking at the
ground when walking so laboriously in steep, high country. The yellow
paper daisies nodded their heads in unison with movement in the air,
purples and pinks of smaller flowering annuals, then a spring, a pool of
clear water. I look for signs of life, dung from a marsupial next to it—how did those pygmy possums survive in this climate? I was always on
the lookout for the unique corroboree frog with dark body and
distinctive yellow stripes but never saw one.
When
we arrived at the vegetation and erosion control plots, we would sit,
unpack clipboard and folder, then take in the view before starting work.
We were on the Great Dividing Range of Australia’s east coast—from there
the waters ran west and east. Flowing west, runoff would eventually
reach the Murray River, after passing through hydro-electricity stations
and various dams. The Murray River had an extensive irrigation system so
by the time alpine runoff reached Adelaide in the country’s south, there
was sadly only a salty trickle. Water flowing to the east entered the
Snowy River, which also generated electricity on its way south to
Victoria. This river was able to be diverted west for irrigation in the
Murray River region, but negative environmental impacts due to starving
the Snowy River of much of its natural flow, and public pressure
now require more environmental releases to restore life to this river.
The Snowy
Mountains Scheme
commenced in 1949 and took 25 years to complete. It involved “100,000
men and women, from 30 countries, including many engineers. technical
officers, trades and non-trades people from around the world. They built
16 large dams, 7 power stations, a pumping station, 225 kms of tunnels
and aqueducts in some of the harshest country in Australia. With a
generating capacity of 3,756 megawatts (MW), the Scheme represents
approximately 16% of the generating capacity of south-east Australia.”
(V. Good, 1999). It is considered today as both a significant engineering
achievement and a socially significant project due to the attraction of
and contribution by so many Europeans who moved to Australia to work on
the project.
We
started by observing species along transects on the western, more
exposed slopes. We’d take turns identifying species and measuring bare
areas along a diagonal transect on replicated plots, while the other
person recorded the observations. As the day progressed, we expected it
to warm up but it seemed that “normal” mountain weather meant the wind
and clouds would increase, and eventually join up to completely cover
the sky. I had my woolly hat pulled down over my ears, padded jacket
zipped up and woollen gloves on (knitted by my mum with no ends on the
fingers to enable me to keep them on and write at the same time).
We
would stop for a break and eat and drink some more. John would tell me
more interesting anecdotes from his work in earlier days—stories of
helicopters dropping off equipment in difficult conditions, bales of hay
and drums of bitumen, laborers and materials having to be organized for
a narrow window of good weather, sometimes it worked out and sometimes
it didn’t. It could snow any time—a white Christmas was even possible in
Australia’s alpine summer! Bare patches were scarifed, seeded and
mulched with wheat straw then bitumen spray used to hold the barren
straw down, keep moisture in and reduce the likelihood of frost heave.
It was important not to use hay that contained seed heads. There were
strict controls to prevent the introduction of weeds. It is such a harsh
environment for vegetation.
By
early afternoon the clouds had enveloped us and conditions were
deteriorating, so we finished the next batch of plots, then packed up
and headed back down the mountain, back across that freezing river and
up the final hill to the car. We would be back the next day and maybe
the next until the job was done. The good news was that the alpine
celery was making a comeback and each year the bare areas were a little
smaller.
****************************
I
spent three years working in the mountains. In 1986, I travelled to
tropical north Queensland on a camping holiday, and visited a bauxite
mine where I saw the mine operations and rehabilitation. I was later
attracted to a position in mine rehabilitation in the Northern Territory
where I spent the next 10 years. I still love to rehabilitate land, but
spend more time on environmental planning to reduce the impacts of
mining and facilitate progressive rehabilitation to create stable
landscapes which blend back into the surrounding natural environment.
********************************
For
more information on grazing and land use in the Australian Alps see:
http://www.australianalps.deh.gov.au/publications/edukit/seasonal.html
For
more information about the Snowy Mountains Scheme and current
hydro-electricity power generation in the region see:
http://www.snowyhydro.com.au/
Reference – V.
Good’s speech 50th anniversary 1999, facts on
Snowy Mountains Scheme,
http://www.aie.org.au/pubs/snowy50.htm
Corinne
Unger studied at Macquarie University, Sydney from 1979-82 and 1985-6.
She holds a Bachelor of Science (Geomorphology and
Climatology) and post-graduate Diploma of Geoscience (Applied
Geomorphology). Unger worked for
NSW Soil Conservation Service
in
1983-1987. She
then
moved to Jabiru, near
Kakadu National Park, as Rehabilitation Office at the Ranger Uranium
Mine, Northern Territory. In 1993 she moved to Darwin, to
manage rehabilitation and research for the mine. In 1997 she moved to
Rockhampton (Central QLD) with her husband, an airline pilot, and their
two children. In 1999, Unger worked part-time for
the
QLD government in mine
environmental regulation. From 2000-2004,
she managed
a
mine
rehabilitation project at Mount Morgan, an abandoned mine. Unger moved
to Brisbane, QLD in 2003 and continued in government
service for a year. She began work as an environmental consultant for
the mining industry,
specializing in mine rehabilitation and closure
planning,
in 2004.