On the 30th of July, 1997, a landslide above the small Australian ski resort of Thredbo
in New South Wales sent a huge quantity of mud, rock and water hurtling towards the buildings
below.
The resulting disaster would necessitate a nine-day rescue attempt, and lead to one of
the longest and most complex landslide investigations ever seen.
The village of Thredbo is located in the Snowy Mountains, Australia’s highest mountain
range, around 300 miles (or 500 kilometres) south of Sydney.
It is in the valley of the Thredbo River, with the name coming from the Aboriginal inhabitants
of the area.
European settlement of Thredbo dates back to the 19th century when it was a popular
base for prospectors during the “Thredbo Rush” – a period where it was thought
that the river contained large quantities of gold.
It didn’t, but several frustrated gold diggers took up skiing whilst in the area, leading
to the establishment of the very first ski club in the area in the 1860s.
Thredbo remained a quiet village for the first half of the 20th century, with a moderate
amount of tourism.
This all changed when work began on a Hydro-Electric Scheme in 1949.
The scheme brought in a huge influx of workers, many of whom were Europeans with plenty of
experience of skiing.
One Czech worker named Tony Sponar had been a ski instructor in Austria, but had moved
to Australia to work on the Hydro-Electric project.
When he saw plans for the construction of Alpine Way, a new road that would provide
much better access to the area, he saw the potential for increased tourism.
He set up the Kosciuszko Chair Lift and Thredbo Hotel Syndicate, tasked with establishing
Thredbo as a major ski resort.
By 1957 commercial ski tourism began in the village.
The resort was modelled on European skiing towns to reflect the heritage of the workers,
with ski lodges, a ski school and plenty of chairlifts.
It grew rapidly in popularity, and was even a popular destination for American soldiers
when they were given leave from fighting in the Vietnam War.
By the 1990s, Thredbo had become the only alpine resort in Australia to operate all
year round – incorporating the largest snow-making system in the southern hemisphere.
The village continued to grow and receive more and more investment.
It was, for many years, a brilliant success story, and a beloved escape for many holidaymakers.
At around 11.30am on the evening of the 30th of July 1997, earth began to slide down the
mountain.
Around 3.8 million kilograms (or 3,800 tonnes) of rock, water and liquefied earth were incorporated
into the slide, which ran down the mountainside until it crashed into the Carinya Lodge.
The force of the impact tore the building in two.
The landslide continued, joined by debris of the Carinya.
It crossed a small lake before colliding with the Bimbadeen Ski Lodge at high speed and
continuing down to the Bimbadeen Staff Lodge.
All three buildings were completely destroyed.
The New South Wales Fire Brigade Communication Centre started receiving calls within 10 minutes
of the landslide, but most callers weren’t fully able to understand what had happened.
Some reported a small explosion, while others stated that up to 100 people were trapped
in wreckage.
By 12.30am, police had arrived at the scene and ordered an evacuation of the area.
A regional disaster was declared, and medical staff were sent from nearby regions to help.
They joined many volunteers from other organisations such as the Australian Red Cross and the Volunteer
Rescue Association.
The problem for the emergency services was that the area was too unstable for them to
get close to the demolished buildings.
At 7:30am on the morning after the landslide, the 31st of July, a medical command post was
set up in a lodge close to the disaster site, and by 10:00am a team of geophysicists arrived
from Sydney.
After assessing the site, they gave the go-ahead for an excavation of the top layer of the
rubble.
Even with this expert analysis, digging in the rubble remained a risky prospect.
The site was still unstable, and more than 6,120 litres (or 16,000 gallons) of icy water
were rushing through the debris every hour.
The rescuers themselves were at risk - many of them had to be treated for minor injuries
and the medical team prepared to treat exhaustion and hypothermia.
At 4.20pm on the 31st of July, the first body was found.
It would take over four hours before it could be pulled out, such was the precarious nature
of the rubble.
The search continued through the night - 250 workers were permitted to work at a time,
with shifts lasting two hours before four hours of rest.
While they searched, efforts were made to reinforce the area in the hope of preventing
further landslides.
The conditions were perilous – the ground was sloped and unstable while the temperature
dropped to −14 degrees Celsius (or 6.8 degrees Fahrenheit) during the night.
Early in the morning of the 1st of August another body was found, with two more being
discovered later in the day – these bodies couldn’t be recovered initially as the rocks
in the area were too unstable.
A large slab of concrete, which had been part of the Bimbadeen car park, had formed a barrier
preventing rescue workers from accessing the area.
Throughout the day doctors met with relatives of the missing, and Assistant Police Commissioner
Ken Moroney gave a statement to reporters about the hope of discovering any survivors
saying:
"I think at this stage the chances are quite remote."
At this point thermal imaging and fibre optic cameras were showing no signs of life.
At 5.37am the next morning, workers dropped sound equipment down a hole that they had
just finished digging… and were astounded to pick up sounds of movement from underneath
a concrete slab.
Firefighter Steve Hirst shouted, "Rescue team working overhead.
Can anyone hear me?"
A man’s voice replied, “I can hear you”.
The rescue team asked whether he had sustained any injuries, to which the trapped man replied,
“No, but my feet are bloody cold!"
The man was Stuart Diver, a 27-year-old ski instructor.
Trapped below three concrete slabs, he was two metres (or 2.2 yards) below the surface.
He had been in his bedroom with his wife, Sally, when the landslide hit, and had been
swept away by the icy floodwater.
While he had been able to get his head above the water, Sally had been pinned down by a
concrete slab and had drowned.
Stuart had spent more than two days trapped in freezing water, next to the body of his
wife.
Finding Stuart had given the rescue team a huge morale boost, but releasing him was a
complicated task.
They couldn’t risk digging directly toward him as they ran the risk of the slabs slipping
down and crushing him, so they began to dig a tunnel from the side of the slope.
They were able to get fluids to him, and pipe in some warmer air to increase his body temperature.
A paramedic, Paul Featherstone, stayed talking to him throughout the rescue attempt.
Any slight movement in the rubble required the area to be evacuated until it was deemed
safe… but Featherstone stayed with Stuart even when movement was detected, and continued
talking to him to keep him calm throughout.
After 11 hours of digging, at 5:10pm on the 2nd of August, Stuart was finally freed.
In total he had been trapped for 65 hours.
He was rushed to hospital where he was treated for frostbite – a relatively minor injury
given the scale of the disaster.
The search for more survivors continued for five more days, but no more were found.
The final and 18th body was pulled from the rubble on the 7th of August - nine days after
the initial landslide.
Landslides are most commonly natural disasters, but when the coroner's report into the Thredbo
Landslide was released in 2000, it highlighted several manmade factors.
While the heavy rain and melting snow was the main cause of the slide, there was also
a leaking water main near Alpine Way.
This had gradually saturated the land below the road until it became weak enough to collapse.
The land itself was vulnerable due to historic landslides, some centuries ago, which had
led to the ground being loose underneath the surface – the land had been moving very
slowly for decades, and it was this movement that had weakened and eventually broken the
water main.
The land was unstable, and had never been suitable for the amount of development it
saw.
The report also noted that there had been previous landslides before 1997 that should
have warranted action from the relevant authorities.
Alpine Way had originally been intended to give temporary access for the construction
of the hydro-electric plant back in the 1950s.
It was never built to last as long as it did, nor to have the amount of use that it did.
Responsibility for the maintenance of the road transferred from the Snowy Mountains
Hydroelectric Authority to the National Parks and Wildlife Service, who did not have the
budget to maintain roads.
In the aftermath of the disaster, terraces were constructed on the slopes to reinforce
the land and Alpine Way was rebuilt with retaining walls.
The area is now monitored with inclinometers to detect any movement in the slope.
Following intervention from the Supreme Court of Australia, The Government of New South
Wales paid out $40 million in out-of-court settlements with businesses and individuals
following the incident, a process that took seven years.
The search and rescue division of the Fire Brigade was expanded and responsibility for
Alpine Way was diverted to the Roads & Traffic Authority.
Lessons were learned from the Thredbo Landslide, but at an extremely high cost.