Memories of the 1964 flood
Letter from Wendy Kilroy (Hatch)
Reading the hard copy of the Barraba Community News dated Wednesday 1st April 2026 in my home in Tasmania, the photos on page 9 stirred my memories of my flood experience in 1964. The bottom photo on the left is of our house at 20 Queen St.
Our family had been on our annual holiday to Gosford and had arrived home the evening before the flood. Next morning, as the rain continued, our parents decided to leave me, 11 years old, with my 4-year-old brother Douglas, and my sister, Michelle, who was 3, as well as our grandfather Paddy Starr, 80 years old. Mum and Dad left us briefly while they went to assist our great aunt in Cherry Lane, and to check on my aunt and uncle’s house next door in Rodney St. My aunt and uncle were holidaying in Port Macquarie. I’m not sure what time my parents left but shortly after, the water started rising rapidly.
Our grandfather, who was blind, was very nervous and kept asking me how far the water was coming up. He kept budgerigars and his little dog Jacky, was tied up in her kennel. By this time the water had already claimed Jacky and all the poultry our mother kept. The budgerigars were released by Des Kelaher swimming in and opening their cage. The water was so high by now that our parents were unable to get back to the house and the house next door was inundated almost to the rafters.
Thankfully, help arrived. The men from White’s Garage came to our aid, and we were guided through the flood water which was up past our thighs. Fortunately, our mother had not unpacked our suitcases (they were called “ports” back then) when we got home the previous evening. This was contrary to her usual practise of unpacking everything as soon as we arrived home. On this occasion, it worked in our favour. However, as the helpers were grabbing anything they could salvage, including the suitcases, which my mother had left on the top of a bunk bed, one of the helpers had the misfortune to drop one of them back into the flood water. As for the house next door, nothing could be salvaged including our cousin’s much loved new green and white holden car which was locked in the garage.
The water rose and receded quickly which was a blessing, but the devastation on returning to the house was sobering. So much silt; the piano through one of the walls; bedding sodden and saggy; furniture displaced and drawers of linen and clothing saturated. Preserves, jams and pantry items were scattered everywhere, some broken, others intact, but not much to salvage.
As in all country towns and communities, when the chips are down people band together to help one another, which was evident after the flood. I remember, for weeks after the flood, items being returned, washed, ironed and starched. Documents and photos dried out and curled but were saved. Some furniture items were cleaned and placed in the sun to dry. I’m sure there is still silt in the walls of 20 Queen St.
Mike Artis’ comments (page 10, 1st April 2026 edition) also revived memories of the trucks lined up outside our house, waiting their turn to weigh and unload their cargoes of wheat and wool. The sight of those trucks, laden with their bounty, remains as a reminder of how rich and fertile the land around Barraba was and still is, and the stamina and resilience required by the farming community to grow such high-quality produce.
Wendy Kilroy (Hatch), Westbury, Tasmania.