Toby Byrne

The first time I met Tobias Byrne , I was incredulous. “Your last name is Byrne, and you’re going to help us with a fire system?” I looked him up and down – from those comically heroic boots so beloved by the ERT types, to his prescription safety glasses which had been accessorised with an anti-dust gasket and secured with a fashionable strap, like a pair of goggles. The strap strained against an implausible mop of fusilli pasta for hair, and he looked at me earnestly, and with a great sincerity told me how he was going to fix my current predicament. Our underground crushing project had forgotten to incorporate a fire detection/suppression system, and Toby was promising to navigate the Kafkaesque intersection of regulation, risk management, and government approvals to implement a system so we could commission as planned.

Well Toby did just that. He was not cheap (yachting is an expensive sport), but true to his word he deftly stepped me through a quagmire that has claimed many others. To this day I have never met another fire consultant with even half the nous. He did it with superb confidence, despite the solution being almost entirely unconventional. He managed to blend his authoritative expertise, rope-access antics, and emergency response background to rescue the IP that happened to be our project. And he did it with energy.

I don’t know how maintained so much enthusiasm, but everything was with a sense of incredible energy. Sometimes I have to admit I dreaded his calls – they could span hours, but invariably once you gave up your hope for a productive afternoon, and settled in, the conversation was rewarding, darting randomly like a rabbit across all types of topics. He spoke so fast that many times I couldn’t actually catch all the words, but I got the gist as he breathlessly shared his ideas, contacts, and plans. I’m not sure how many companies Toby ultimately had, but it is scarcely an exaggeration to say that every time we spoke he was working on a new invention, and I learned about an unexpected chapter from his backstory.

But I don’t want to give the wrong impression – he was far from all talk. His energy manifested as practical generosity, and Toby was always giving or offering. I had a conference in Fremantle to attend? Save the cut lunch - his house was available any time. I was struggling to pull together resources to fit-out our new lab? He’d volunteer to lead a working bee. I wanted help with tacking? He was always up for a lesson on the water. There are so many examples I could share.

All in all, I would hold Toby as a genuine stalwart of this generation’s industry. There are a few characters that are “larger than life”, but many earn this reputation thanks to highly strung egos, whereas for me Toby leaves a high watermark; just a great guy with a real passion for underground mining. He had the wherewithal to see it for what it is – digging up rocks. But also saw beyond to the incredible community and opportunity that it represented, and did his part to push things forward.

This is all needless to say. Of course St Patrick’s Basilica was full to beyond capacity, spilling out the front door even. He was magnetic, and my experience was not unique. I stood in a back corner, where it was shoulder to shoulder looking out at hundreds of Perth’s busiest people who had made the effort to be in Fremantle to acknowledge Toby’s impact and personal importance. But so tragic. Toby, who brimmed with so much for so many people, was left to his own devices. I looked at my last text message to Toby. “Are you ok?”. It was left on read. We, the people he loved, with all our collective wisdom and sensibilities and programmes let him down.

A tragic loss. RIP.

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