After its wettest winter in 46 years, the Greenough River has undergone a mesmerising transformation. The spectacle of its parched sand giving way to flowing water has lifted people’s spirits as fast as the bush telegraph can carry news of its flow.
A parched and sandy riverbed rests in silence.
Its banks, barren and desolate, lie in wait for the life-giving rain.
It all starts with a solitary drop.
As droplets gather, a quiet anticipation grows.
Rain.
The long-awaited revival begins.
Like many of Australia’s dry and arid rivers, the Greenough River in the Midwest of Western Australia only flows with water after sufficient inland rain.
The rains can arrive in summer from an ex-tropical cyclone or by winter storms.
It’s not guaranteed to flow every year, but when it does it’s a wonder to the eyes.
Following an extended dry spell through 2023 and the first half of 2024, the Greenough River has experienced an unusually longer-than-normal water flow this year.
The Bureau of Meteorology says Geraldton recorded a winter rainfall of 386.8 millimetres this year, significantly exceeding the decade-long average of 215.9mm.
This has made it the wettest winter in 46 years, just shy of the 397.4mm recorded in 1978.
Except for the river mouth and a few permanent pools, the river remains dry and dormant all year round unless sufficient rain arrives.
The river originates in the Murchison region, near Yuin Station, approximately 75 kilometres north-west of Yalgoo.
Carving a path of approximately 350 kilometres across the landscape, it winds its way from the bush to the sea.
Rossco Foulkes-Taylor, who manages Yuin Station with his family, shares a deep connection with the Greenough River.
“Given that about 95 per cent of Yuin Station is within the Greenough River catchment, it has had a big influence on me personally … I feel a strong connection to the river and associated land systems,” he says.
The Murchison region has an elevation ranging from 400 to 450 metres above sea level.
As the landscape gradually slopes downward towards the coast, gravity pulls the water down, eventually reaching sea level at the river mouth.
As it rains, water starts to pool over the land.
“A general rain event of 45 to 50mm over 24 hours would typically produce a reasonable river run,” Rossco says.
He adds that anything over 70mm will usually produce flooding if the rain is widespread.
As the rain falls, puddles start to form and the water gradually builds up, moving along the ground to create channels and drainways as it moves.
“There are several reasonable-sized feeder creeks along with plenty of wash country where the flow is slow, shallow and widespread,” Rossco says.
As the rain starts to subside, the water travels through the country, following the path of least resistance till it finds the river.
The river acts as a drain, channelling water from the land and groundwater towards lower ground areas.
The water within the river starts to swell.
The river awakens.
As the river starts its journey to the coast, the landscape changes from red to sandy brown, as the land use changes from pastoral country to grain cropping.
With good widespread rain, the landscape transitions from dusty brown to lush green.
If the river hasn’t flowed for a while, it can take time to soak into the dry sand, bubbling as the water soaks in.
No two rivers flow the same
Each river flow has its own identity or character.
After extended dry periods, the first river flow does a big clean-up.
It picks up and pushes sticks and leaves, filtering the riverbed.
In other instances, the river will have a foamy look as it heads down.
As the water moves it flushes out dormant organic matter like bark.
When the air mixes with the organic material bubbles form, creating foam.
As the river inches closer to the sea, news of its flow spreads, lifting people’s spirits and curiosity.
But each river flow arrives differently, either fast or slow depending on the amount of rainfall and how clean the riverbed is.
Trying to find where the head of the river is can be tricky to navigate.
But in the age of technology and river monitoring — and a little bit of detective work — people go out on a search to try and find it.
“Every time it floods, I’m here to watch it,” Tim Shingleton says.
He is a grain farmer near Walkaway and the Greenough River runs through his land.
Tim is always vigilant for signs of the river’s approach, taking note of the rainfall and keeping in touch with people further inland.
Farmers will often call him to let him know the river is on its way.
When he gets these calls, Tim heads up from his farm to watch the river come down.
“It’s exciting to see … it’s definitely fun to watch.
“That’s something really unique about watching it all come down; it’s not just the water but all the debris, all the sticks and everything that’s coming down with it.”
Depending on the weather patterns, rain doesn’t always fall in the right places for the river to flow.
Tim has witnessed the Greenough River flow through his farm more than 20 times, and he notes that each flow is unique, depending on the amount of water.
“I think it’s just the uniqueness of it … it’s like watching a fire. It’s calming.”
If there are good rains in a certain part of the river, it can top up that section and send the water on its way.
“On the back of our farm, we’ve got a lot of hills which are catching rain, and you can literally see the water going down into the all the creeks and back into the river,” Tim says.
“It obviously gets a massive feed from just natural runoff.”
Tim will often take time out from his busy day to observe.
“I find it quite relaxing to sit here and just watch it flow on by.”
The river continues its journey to Meryl Collard’s property.
Her family farms in Walkaway, where she has witnessed the river come alive many times.
“Sometimes we’ve walked further back to meet it and it’s just a little trickle. Other times … well, my goodness, it was like a wave.”
Meryl says it’s a unique thing to see a dry river come alive with water.
“People probably think we’re crazy getting excited about a river, but we don’t see it very often.
“It’s quite eerie, particularly when it comes at night-time; you can hear the leaves and the branches moving.”
Among the dumped river sand Meryl has noticed small shells that the river has brought down.
“You can see little shells and you just think: ‘Oh my goodness, where have they come from?’ It’s most obviously very historic,” she says.
When the river comes to life, the surge of water acts as a signal for nature.
“Little fish come through, tadpoles, the frogs all start.
“All the birds are very busy at the moment. Lots of nests.
“It’s tonic to the eyes.”
The big flood of 2006
Meryl can remember the flood in 2006 when the water came over the paddocks and up near the house.
“It caused a bit of trouble; we haven’t had one that large since,” she says, crossing her fingers.
Back on Yuin Station, Rossco Foulkes-Taylor recalls January 12, 2006 very well.
He says the station made a big effort to notify all the relevant authorities about what would be one of their largest floods on record.
“We knew there had been little rain downstream.
“Surprisingly, our warning and advice was either ignored or dismissed until an experienced Water and Rivers employee who was driving back from Perth got wind of what we had said and seen a couple rainfall totals that some preparatory action slowly started.
“The Water and Rivers office reported to him that the water measuring site on the Greenough River north of Mullewa (Pingaring Rocks) was not sending in any warnings, so they were not too worried.
“It later turned out this reporting station had been wrecked by the unprecedented water levels and was several hundred metres downstream.”
Rossco recalls the community of Walkaway had a pretty stressful night trying to shore up levee banks and moving stock to higher ground.
“We were disappointed this had to be such a last-minute rush given we had supplied 36 hours’ warning,” he recalls.
As the river gets closer to the sea, more river enthusiasts come out to witness the spectacle.
Gary Martin lives in Greenough and often seeks out the head of the river as it arrives.
“I’ve grown up in this area … I’ve been watching the river for many, many years,” he says.
“To see it so dry and sandy for so many months, and then suddenly to see that first little trickle of water come down and then spread from bank to bank is amazing to see.
“The river, it’s a living, breathing thing.”
River parties mark special event
When people start to hear word that the river is flowing and on its way, people come out and celebrate.
“You come down to a road crossing and you might have 20 to 50 people bringing their deckchairs, a couple of drinks and just enjoying the unique occasion,” Gary says.
Kym Jefferies, who lives near the river in Greenough, describes the river flowing as exhilarating.
“Everyone gets pretty excited. It’s kind of a celebration.”
She says when the local river crossing floods, it can be difficult for people who live in the area to leave.
Neighbours along the river have formed a chat group and share information about where the river is and when it might arrive.
“This year it kind of surprised me,” Kym says. “I thought, ‘Nah, it’s not going to come through’, but then it came through overnight.”
With the river crossing flooded, it meant Kym and her family couldn’t leave.
“The kids get the day off from school and they just spend the day in the mud. It’s just having a day to connect with nature,” she says.
“I like to think that I give them a mini science lesson that day.
“When I look back to my childhood, it always comes back to those special moments in nature, making those core memories.”
After a few days the river subsides and the crossing reopens.
“With the climate and everything, we don’t know how things are going to go, and so I think any kind of big, beautiful natural event is amazing,” Kym says.
The river nears its destination at Cape Burney where the river water starts to blend with the sea.
It’s the first time in a long time where the river and the sea connect together.
“The river is bringing down a lot of clay particles, minerals and organic matter that end up in the sea,” Mike Clarke says.
“And that sort of provides the basis of the food chain for all the other organisms.”
Mike is another keen river enthusiast. He studied biology before working with the Department of Agriculture for 35 years.
Now retired, Mike often spends time by the Greenough River, taking photos of the birdlife.
“My partner and myself often come down here and just take some chairs and just sit and look.
“You feel your blood pressure coming down and your heart slows down. It’s a very calming place to be.”
Mike has always wanted to watch the head of the river come down and recalls timing it perfectly one year.
“I didn’t think it was going to be as spectacular as it was, watching this sandy, dusty riverbed, and then suddenly around the corner comes this moving mass of leaves and sticks that are cracking and hissing.”
Watching the river come down through the bush inspires Mike to imagine what it must have looked like centuries before.
“It reminded me of the First Nations people and you start to imagine, you know, 30,000 years ago …
“Kids in the river plain and then suddenly there is this thing coming towards you like a living organism.
“And so you can understand how that was part of the Dreaming, because watching it really was quite a cathartic experience.”
Priscilla Papertalk, an Aboriginal custodian program coordinator with the Northern Agricultural Catchments Council (NACC), says the river would have been an important place for food.
“The Aboriginal people would use fish traps back up along the river, and we can still see middens located near the river, so we know that the Aboriginal people have lived along this river for a long time.”
The Greenough River was frequented by the Amangu, Naaguja and Wajarri people prior to European settlement, and the billabongs and pools were a treasured source of both food and water.
Priscilla says that even when the river looks dry and arid, there is often water to be found underneath or nearby.
“It’s a river that’s underneath as well. Water is flowing.
“It’s good to know that she looks after us when we look after her surroundings.”
Priscilla coordinates primary schools to come down to the river to try and teach them the importance of a healthy, clean river.
“The little microplastics, we don’t want them to harm our turtles and fishes,” she says.
Priscilla is passionate about teaching the younger generation the importance of looking after country and says she can feel if the river is happy or not.
“Every time I come here, I have this pelican meet me. It welcomes me back to the river.
“If you see the river happy, you’ll feel happy.”
After a river flow, billabongs and permanent pools are filled with fresh water, allowing for pleasant swims and an abundance of water life.
As the water flows into the sea, the river starts to wane, leaving shallow pools in the sandy bank that disappear through the sand.
Gradually the river dries up, going back to sleep, waiting for the next good rains to awaken it.
Credits
- Reporting, video and photography: Chris Lewis
- Digital production: Daniel Franklin
