DERBY’S FIRST CHAPTER
In the late 1800s, Derby was big. It was famous. It pulled visitors from around the globe. Derby sat atop some of the richest tin mines in the world, and tin was booming (a bit like lithium today). By the beginning of the 20th Century, Derby would have been the envy of any rural town in Australia, with a school, hospital, shops, factory, and a population of around 3,000 people, not to mention one of the richest tin mining operations in the world.
As the money poured in, it paid for vast engineering follies in the rugged wilderness around town. A 600-metre tunnel cut through solid granite to move tailings between feuding mines; a 48 kilometre water race from the head of the Ringarooma River; elevated dams storing millions of litres of water perched in the hills. The idea was to get water rolling at great speeds down Derby’s hillsides, giving massive mining hoses enough pressure to strip them down to the prized tin beneath.
But in 1929, on the eve of the Great Depression, nature served up a rain bomb not dissimilar to the one that detonated over Australia’s east coast in early 2022. After five days of downpour, the Cascade Dam, which held 130 million gallons of water, burst, and a 32-metre wall of water, boulders, mud, and uprooted trees tore down the valley, scouring it to bedrock (MTB
