Rising Damp

This blog's urban disaster reporter has just sent a dispatch from the wilds of Tasmania.  There were originally photos but they were apparently eaten when the delivery team got stuck in a blizzard part way.  Of course to title her "urban disaster reporter" is a little misleading when one considers she's based in Tasmania.  Suburban disaster reporter is probably about as close as it gets.

Whatever her title the story she told was poignant.  Mild sogginess has struck Tasmania's capital Hobart.  Hobart is a small city which manages to combine the charm of a major urban centre with the size, population and amenities of a country town.  Running through, under and (as it turns out) into Hobart the town is Hobart the rivulet.  Hobart the Rivulet (or Hobart Rivulet as its known to its friends) is the reason for the existence of Hobart the town.  When white folk lurched and vomited their way to Tasmania from the mainland (they were sailing, not drunk [oh ok, they were probably drunk too]) they cast about for a suitable place to build a city.  Failing to find one they just decided to go for anywhere that had a fresh water supply.  Enter the Hobart Rivulet which at the time probably went by an Aboriginal name.  Since its likely most of the settlers could barely pronounce Hobart it shouldn't come as a surprise that they changed it.

The very first thing that the original governor of the settlement said was "Here's fresh water, don't shit in it" or words to that extent.  Pretty much the first thing that the settlers did was shit in it.  The tanneries, flour mills and public acknowledgement that the thing was largely a sewer came later.  Eventually as with other cities where the waterways had become so foul that vomiting in them improved the quality the authorities bricked most of it over and it became a subterranean stream.

Or at least it became a semi subterranean stream.  The upper part on Mt Wellington is still open to the public (and the sky) but when it flows down into Hobart it starts trundling under roads and behind bricks.  However this is Tasmania so it shouldn't come as too much of a surprise to learn that the entire bricking over seems to have been a bit half hearted.  Bits of the rivulet pop up for air from time to time before heading back down underground (or at least under building).  According to this blog's urban spelunking reporter it is possible to get down into a fair bit of it and wander around.  Artists have done some subterranean artwork down there and homeless people (being somewhat more practical) live there.

But the Hobart Rivulet is a fickle mistress and not to be taken lightly.  If you continually do really stupid things eventually it will punish you, a bit.  Nine years ago the Myer store which was apparently the glittering jewel of Hobart's CBD burned down.  Now in 2016 a mere nine years later they have got around to replacing it.  They started, as you do, by digging a big hole for foundations.  In other cities those involved might ask questions like for instance, "Are there any subterranean rivulets nearby that could really wreck our day if we cock something up?"  Apparently such questions were not asked in Hobart.

The site of the new Myer building was right next to the Hobart Rivulet.  Now thanks to the collapse of a retaining wall its a damned sight closer.  Most of the Hobart Rivulet has in fact been deposited where the builders were fondly hoping to place foundations.  Orders have been sent out for some really large sponges but in the meantime Hobart has a convenient new swimming pool.  If it isn't careful it will soon have a convenient new diving site.

Myer hopes to have the water ingress stopped and the water in situ desitued.  I wish them luck, based on their current track record if they're successful they'll be hit by a plague of locusts or possibly a zombie apocalypse.