Dayboro Floods: The Day When My Small Country Town Went Underwater

The ground was saturated by weeks of rain. The soil couldn’t take anymore. Every reservoir, dam, tank or gutter was filled to the brim by January eight. No one expected the rain at this time of the year or the extra about to follow. The whole state had been in drought for years.

There were no indicators the season would be any different than any other. Long-range forecasters never mentioned a change. The occasional sub-tropical thunderstorm was all we hoped for — a five-minute downpour in exchange for endless days/nights steamed with high humidity and rashy discomfort. A Brisbane summer at Christmas time is mainly spent indoors, seeking the coldest air conditioning available.

Looking back, December had wonky weather. It was unusually cool late so in the season. My work party was held outdoors, and most who attended it wore pullovers—unheard of in Summer.

And then it rained. It kept raining for another week and a half. We’d never seen anything like it. Mould grew on our house walls. Fuzz sprouted from leather belts and shoes. Parts of the ground started to liquefy and slide down hills. On the eleventh of January, it changed again. The rain accelerated. Droplets as large as marbles fell, and they didn’t stop falling. They joined at ten AM, and a constant sheet of water poured from the clouds.

Fortunately, we lived atop a hill, but the old Manse wasn’t immune to the deluge. Some pooled at its base and threatened to cross the threshold. Margo and I hastily dug trenches to keep it from entering the lower level.

We successfully kept the water out of The Manse, but the Dayboro township wasn’t so lucky. Like many low-lying towns, ours was built around a creek. Eagle Boys Pizza went under. The IGA was inundated. The Post Office, ABC Learning Centre, Matilda Service Station and the local bank suffered similarly. A brown waterline left its mark on everything after the water left and went out to sea.

The December dumping caused the town much grief, but ironically, it also answered many prayers to the greater community. City dam levels were at a miserable 17%, and it didn’t look like increasing any time soon. Water restrictions had been in place for over a decade. Desalinatisation plants were being built, and long-line pipes were laid between major centres to share the available water. Things were dire — until that strange day on January 11, 2011.

My gauge showed that over a metre of rain fell during that hour, and the clouds didn’t break until the following day. That’s when we dared to venture outside again to assess the damage — almost two weeks after the first raindrop fell.

Margo and I left The Manse to do our bit in the valley below. The water receded, and the Matilda Garage was covered in a slick of black goo. I felt sorry for the new owners (who took over the station just the day before it started!) and picked up a shovel to help get them going again. I dumped the sloppy mess into buckets, and Margo carted them away. She also hosed down what she could from the workshop’s walls.  

Mark Weiss and Sharon Jewell lived at the butter factory next door to the garage. Fortunately, they moved out just weeks before the flood. Although sturdy enough to withstand a strong current, it isn’t watertight. They would’ve lost everything once the creek rose!  

And so that’s the story of Dayboro’s 2011 flood. These few photos I took after the waters receded are here for readers to find.  

–Michael (Author of Dark Fiction – See Below)

P.S I also mention Dayboro in my new novel Seethings. (See below)