Friday 25th April
The Curious Case of Reedy Marsh’s Bauxite Mine
If you thought the ABx bauxite mine at Reedy Marsh was just another tick-the-box project, think again.
This isn’t a rant. It’s a call for action — real action — framed as formal Council motions. Because when toxic metals are miscalculated, stormwater plans are based on hope, and neighbour agreements are optional, somebody has to step up.
These motions aren’t just paperwork. They’re written for the people who live here — for the kids splashing in the river, the farmers working the soil, the B&B operators remaking beds and folding linen for the next guests, the artists painting the shifting light, the families who trust the rain to fill their tanks, and the older generations who built this place with calloused hands and stubborn hope. For the small businesses, the backyard growers, the tourism operators — the ones who know that real prosperity comes from land you can stand on, not land you sell off.
And beneath it all, deeper than memory, runs the oldest knowledge of all — the enduring wisdom of the First Peoples of this valley. A truth carried in story and soil: that land and water are not resources to be spent, but sacred gifts to be protected. Once broken, they cannot simply be fixed with promises and plans. That ancient understanding still speaks here, for those who are willing to listen.
These motions expose critical mistakes buried in the EPA’s assessment and lay out a clear, no-excuses roadmap for Council to protect what matters most: our people, our land, our future.
Frankly, the whole situation is starting to feel like a bad sitcom — where best practice is a punchline, environmental science is optional, and “trust us” is the running joke.
In the absence of proper oversight, it’s everyday people — not bureaucrats — carrying the weight. Farmers, artists, B&B hosts, Indigenous custodians, researchers, grandparents, volunteers, and a few gutsy councillors — all stepping forward where others have stayed silent. Because if we don’t fight for this valley, who will?
Because—spoiler alert—it’s not fine. It’s really not fine.
Let’s start with the gem that is Chromium VI, a known toxicant with a reputation you wouldn’t want anywhere near your coffee, let alone a protected waterway. The proponent’s Stormwater Management Plan managed to confuse it with its much milder cousin, Chromium III. As in, they blended the values and under-reported the risks by a factor of 37. Thirty-seven.
To put that in perspective: if your doctor gave you 37 times the safe dose of anything, you’d probably question their qualifications. Yet somehow, this passed through multiple layers of review like a ghost through a wall.
So Motion 1 asks Council to kindly insist on a revised SMP—one that doesn't mistake poison for pudding—and to delay any planning approval until actual environmental experts confirm the corrected version won’t turn Brushy Rivulet into a chemical slip’n’slide.
Next on the list of “minor oversights with major consequences”: stormwater turbidity. The EPA generously allows a limit of 60 NTU (Nephelometric Turbidity Units), which sounds technical enough to lull people to sleep. But let’s decode: high turbidity means murky water, sediment overload, and major ecological disruption.
We now have Motion 2, which recommends real-time turbidity monitoring with automatic alerts—so if the water turns into milk tea, someone can press a button before trout start coughing. That is, if we believe someone will be watching the alerts and not simply muttering "she'll be right" as sediment pours downstream.
Motion 3 reveals another heart-warmer: the mysterious case of the contingency discharge plan. There’s a bold idea to pump excess stormwater onto a neighbouring property—except… there’s no formal agreement with said neighbour. Just vibes.
The proposal’s Plan B? Redirect the water to other sediment basins that were, of course, not designed for that load. Kind of like booking a tiny AirBnB and inviting 120 guests. Should be fine, right?
Spoiler: It won’t be. Not for the environment, the neighbours and certainly not for the Council’s reputation.
Then we hit Motion 4, reminding us that the mine site is already leaching aluminium and copper above safe guidelines. The response? "It's only marginal." As if “just a little toxic” is a branding strategy now. The Council wants proper monitoring and prevention strategies—because once this stuff hits the river, there’s no Ctrl+Z.
Which brings us neatly to Motion 5: if your science is based on lab tests done under controlled conditions with zero wind, rain, or wildlife, congratulations—you’ve invented theoretical reassurance. The Council would now like real-world data, thank you very much.
Motion 6 tackles the concept of “uncontrolled discharge.” The EPA has suggested this would only occur during “significant” storm events. Ah yes, the classic “trust us, it’s rare” clause. The Council (rightly) wants modelling. Because in an era of climate change, not planning for storm intensity is like opening an umbrella after you’re soaked.
Let’s also not forget the sediment basins, those unsung heroes of stormwater control. Motion 7 requests an actual plan to ensure they keep working longer than a summer internship. We’re talking real maintenance schedules, real rehabilitation targets, and yes, real financial backing so taxpayers don’t foot the bill when things fall apart.
Finally—perhaps most importantly—Motion 8 puts the spotlight on the people. Fifty-three public representations raised water concerns, echoing broader community fears about groundwater, river health, and that nagging sense that they were the ones being experimented on.
Council is being urged to take a precautionary approach—not because the EPA didn’t try, but because too much has slipped through the cracks. Because good governance means not just ticking boxes, but listening to the people who live downstream.
So here we are: a community that read the fine print, spotted the errors, and stood up before the damage was done.
The Meander Valley Council now has a choice: follow the motions and protect the heartland, or blindly endorse a proposal built on half-science and whole assumptions. Let’s hope the voices of this valley carry louder than the whispers of corporate convenience.
Because here’s the truth:
If the Environmental Protection Authority's Assessment gets Chromium wrong, we’re going to assume they got the rest wrong too.
