Gateway to Cania

When I began this blog, I spent some time looking for pictures to feature on the home page. An obvious and iconic choice was Ayers Rock as it would most quickly inform visitors where I was. But I thought perhaps I should also feature a picture from Monto. When I had tried to find the town on Google maps a couple years ago, I was very pleased to see that the area had some very green national parks surrounding it. One park in particular, the “Cania Gorge National Park”, was a favorite of the Craig family as it included a dam where they often took their boat and spent days on the lake. A search for “Cania Gorge” returned one picture of a rock overhang with ferns and a small stream. It was a perfect picture to use, but more than that, it was a place I immediately decided I wanted to visit one day.

It just looked so peaceful.

Cania (KAY-nya) was probably Monto’s biggest local attraction and a sign when entering the town proudly advertised it as the “Gateway to Cania Gorge”. So I was very happy when Tim and Fiona one day invited me to join them for a camping holiday at the Gorge on December 26^th. We have, it should be noted, skipped ahead many weeks to tell this story. Much happened in the interim between mid November and late December, but we’ll come back to that soon enough.

It was a Thursday morning. I woke up to a new pond in back of the house because of all the rain that had fallen overnight. In addition to the pelicans, whistle ducks, and ibises, there were now spoonbills and magpie geese. I packed some noodles, carrots, nuts, and jugs of water, as it was about all I had on hand for two days of camping fare. A tent, sleeping bag, and sleeping pad were to be provided by Tim, and he was even kind enough to book a powered camping spot for me in case I needed to run a fan.

The Craigs would be at the mid week meeting that night, so the plan was to ride back to Cania with them afterward. As it happened, the announcement that I had been appointed an elder in the Monto congregation was made that very evening , so it was nice that Tim and Fiona could be there for it since they had been operative in getting me out to Monto in the first place. In fact, most of the Gladstone brothers and sisters were at the meeting that evening as well, as almost half the congregation was encamped at Cania along with the Craigs.

Meeting ended and we arrived at the campground some time later. I was shown around after some of the friends I had met at the hall set up my tent for me in the dark. I was shown where the bathrooms were as well as the camp kitchen, which would prove to be a central meeting hub for the next several days. Cups, plates, and silverware were made available as well as two barbecue grills, four picnic tables, three refrigerators, and even a wall-mounted flat screen television. (Spiders were also provided) The whole things was covered and proved to be quite a nice place for playing cards or games, sharing meals, and socializing. This I now did with the younger people that were there, including Mikey and Zoey Stapleton and their parents, whom I had often seen on Fiona’s Instagram posts. Ian Williamson was also there, which I was happy about since he was one of the friends I had already made. In fact, and this would become more evident in the days ahead, I really liked all the young people there quite a lot.

I retired to my tent after an hour and lay staring at the ceiling for a while thinking. Here I was lying in a tent in Australia. Australia! I felt so grateful to The Craigs for taking me under their wing as they had, I was also grateful to Jehovah for blessing my many efforts to get here, and I was truly thankful to my mother for sharing the Truth with me in the first place so that I could be a part of all of the wonderful things I was now enjoying. Then I fell asleep listening to the wind moving softly through the trees.

The next morning I had a meager, but satisfying breakfast consisting of a carrot and noodles, then I studied my Watchtower for Sunday over a coffee. In the daylight I finally had an opportunity to get a look at the campground. The “Cania Gorge Tourist Retreat” had an oval shaped layout with a road that circled from the entrance to the far end of the camp and back again. At the farthest point from the camp office were the cabins. These were furnished and had large verandas. Each was intricately painted in its own indigenous animal theme. Next to these were the centrally located bathrooms, showers, laundry, and community kitchen. Between these and the front office were the powered and unpowered sites, where most of us were staying. Next to us were two in-ground swimming pools and a large outdoor chess board, both of which got much use and one of which was the scene of an impromptu choreographed water ballet contest on at least one occasion. Most of the families had brought caravans (trailers) and it was clear that most had done this before and had come well prepared. It was a perfect little community of trailers, awnings, and swags all interconnected like a small village.

Before long a young brother named Balun, whom I had previously met in Gladstone, came over with an orange and green King parrot sitting on his hand. He was feeding the friendly bird and asked if I wanted a try it. Soon there were several parrots around us as well as some rainbow lorikeets. I ended up feeding them almost half of the nut mix I had brought, but it was an enjoyable experience worth the sacrifice. I had been trying to get a decent picture of lorikeets since I had arrived over a month ago.

A bush walk was planned for 10 am that morning and I was invited to go, but first I got to talk with Mikey and Ian a bit. Mikey had answered the call for willing volunteers to help with a major building project currently being undertaken at Sydney Bethel. He was helping to build movie sets as well as various other structures and having a wonderful time. Ian, on the other hand, looked to still be waking up as he, interestingly, sat in a wheelchair. Ian worked at a junk shop which Mikey’s father owned. In addition to recycling cans and bottles, they often sold saleable items that came in. The wheelchair had been one such item. Another was a unicycle that stood against a nearby tree. But unlike the unicycle (which no one touched) the wheelchair was always in demand. At various points throughout the day different people would be sitting in it, doing stunts with it, pushing other people around, or wheeling themselves from place to place. It was truly odd, but terribly entertaining. That is except for one sister who had fallen backward out of it and was currently in a hospital due to that fall exacerbating an existing condition and resulting in a much more serious injury.

The time for the bush walk finally came and we set off on our hike. If you want to be immediately pegged as an American, by the way, make sure to call it a hike instead of a bush walk. Because then a small, blonde, Australian girl can look at you with deep sympathy and slight discomfort, as though you’re wearing a cereal box on your head and trying to feed ice cream to a desk lamp, and patiently correct you. I’m not naming any names…Tuula.

There were a series of side trails, leading to different points of interest, that happened to branch off from a main trail that began right next to the entrance of the camp ground. There were a few different groups going, but we were all headed for a spot known as The Overhang. Along the way I was suddenly surprised to see a small group of cows running obliquely toward us. It was later explained that a local farmer had made arrangements to graze his cattle on this patch of park land, and so they were more or less a constant feature. To those, unlike myself, who are not seasoned farmers, this could understandably come as a worrying surprise since cows are not small animals.

I mostly walked with a brother named Nigel and his wife Karen, so I got to know them a bit better. They were very nice people and they told me a lot about the Gorge through which we were hiking and also about local wildlife. Karen described a close encounter with a venomous red-bellied black snake on a previous bush walk. (This description would prove invaluable for me days later when I actually found one under the house and immediately knew what I was looking at). A sign at the entrance to the trails had informed us that not only were there a great many bird species to be found here (over 130), but also echidnas, wallabies, goannas, and koalas. Unfortunately we only saw one goanna as it was running away from us half concealed by ground cover. As was so often the case in this country, here there were the sounds of birds which were completely alien to me. The gorge itself mainly consisted of sheer limestone cliffs and rock walls on either side of us, with thick, eucalypt woodland climbing from the lower elevations up into lush ‘dry’ rain forest further up. It was positively prehistoric.

We passed a spot called “Dripping Rock” (where water was, in fact, steadily seeping from the sandstone cliff above us and watering the many ferns below) before finally climbing down to our intended destination. The Overhang was a beautiful place to be sure, but even more exciting for me was the fact that it was the exact spot I had seen in that picture months before! Of course now that the drought was in full effect, the water level in the stream was much lower and the surrounding verdure wasn’t nearly as thick and green, but it was a nice spot for pictures regardless.

After a time we began to slowly retrace our steps back to camp, with a few stopping along the way to briefly wade into an inviting brook to cool off. What followed was a kilometer or so walk in the baking sun, followed by some much deserved rest and refreshment. That is, until 2pm, when the next of the day’s adventures was slated to begin. For this, a boat would be needed, as well as plenty of sun screen and some commons sense. This last item I would unfortunately forget to bring.

We were headed to the dam.