A Story of Water, Land, and Recognition

The first time I saw Lake George was almost 30 years ago. We were travelling to Canberra along the Federal Highway when the lake appeared to our left. It looked like an enormous expanse of water that accompanied us for what seemed like a long time. Later I would learn that the lake is 20 km long and 10 km wide. I thought all of Canberra’s drinking water must come from this enormous lake.

A few years later, we travelled the same route and I was looking out for the large lake. It wasn’t there. All I could see were cattle and sheep grazing where the lake should have been. There were even fences. It struck me that I couldn’t see any creeks that should have fed into a lake. Could I have imagined the expanse of water?

In time, I learnt that the lake regularly empties and fills. There are no creeks that feed into it, which makes it an unusual type of lake, a closed basin. What feeds it is rain and what drains it is evaporation. When it does have water, it is rarely deeper than 1.5 to 2 metres. This was not always the case. I have seen photos from the early 1960s when the Canberra sailing club held regattas on the lake. And in prehistoric times, the lake is estimated to have been 37 metres deep. With the current rate of climate change, Lake George will experience more severe fluctuations, and it may become a dry bed with only occasional filling episodes. So much for my fanciful idea that it could supply drinking water.

I have now lived in Canberra for close to two years. In that time, I have seen the lake fill and begin to drain again. There are cattle at the northern end now and I can see the fences appear again. Looking across the lake, I see a wind farm that one of our ex-politicians, Joe Hockey, described as ‘a blight on the landscape’. It makes me wonder whether he has ever seen an open cut mine. I quite like the look of the wind turbines in the distance.

Last winter, my boss and I had to drive to Sydney a couple of times. When we left Canberra it was still dark, and the sun had just begun to peep over the horizon as we came down towards Lake George. I was mesmerised. The black expanse of water slowly changed to navy, then cerulean. Golden threads shimmered where the sun’s rays bounced off the water. I was glad not to be the driver, so I could immerse myself in the liquid light of the lake.

Lachlan Macquarie named this expanse of water Lake George after King George III in 1820, as if it didn’t already have a name. To the Aboriginal tribes of the area, the lake was known as Weereewa or Ngungara. It has deep significance to the custodians of the land and waters as both a meeting place and a place for ceremonies. There is also strong evidence that there was a massacre at the site sometime in the early 1820s. King George III never set foot on Australian soil. It is time to recognise the custodians of this land and the lake, allowing them to reclaim it with their own language and rightful name. The lake is waiting for us to remember its true name.