Central Queensland gorges, what
marvellous places. In this issue we visit Cania and Carnarvon
Gorges. Cania is the smaller and poorer cousin but still a
very pleasant place to spend a couple of days.
Carnarvon is well known to just
about everybody it seems, and for good reason. The walks are
great, the views are great and, for the moment, the campsite
is great. Let's hope it reopens.
This issue spans ANZAC day so I thought I'd spend a little
time talking about that. We spent ANZAC day in Baralaba, the
town was closed but there were no obvious celebrations or
We did nothing either but I don't
feel guilty because there's hardly a day goes by when I don't
think how fortunate I am to live in Australia and how it's
the sacrifices of people such as our soldiers, sailors, airmen,
nurses etc. that make this such a great place to live.
When I was in my teens and twenties
all I had to learn was how to add wide wheels to my car, others
had to learn how to kill and not be killed.
When the toughest decision I had
to make was what night club to take my mates to, others had
to decide which valley to take their mates into, knowing that
a wrong choice could mean that they didn't come out.
I just can't imagine what it was
like and the reason I can't imagine it is because others can.
So thank you to all those who fought to make this country
what it is. I am very grateful and, judging by the growing numbers at ANZAC
day parades, so is everybody else.
Till next time then, and remember,
Don't Dream it, Be it!
Sun 14 Apr 2002
After a peaceful night just outside Monto we drive to the rest area
18k north of town, I figure that's enough driving for one day, especially
after that long hill done totally in second gear.
And speaking of gears, we have a
real problem with third and a beginning problem with fourth. Third
gear has begun dropping out when I back off. It's OK while accelerating
or climbing a hill but as soon as the pressure comes off the gearbox
it pops into neutral.
I seem to remember a friend of ours
having a similar problem so I ring him, sure enough he had almost
identical symptoms and knows what the problem is.
We can continue driving for the moment
but I will try to get it fixed ASAP.
Mon 15 Apr 2002
We drive into Cania Gorge National Park, quite a pleasant drive
with wedge-tailed eagles, wallabies and cows to watch and be watched
One wallaby that's finished watching
anything was dead on the road, we see plenty of this in Australia
and I suppose we don't take much notice, but next to it was a dead
joey, something I always find a bit sad.
We stop twice to let herds of milk
cows cross the road on their way to the diary. Some of the cows
walk right past a sign that reads "Another Paul's milk producer,
Bert & Erma Smith" or some such. It's a good thing cows
don't have a sense of irony or they might wonder why Bert and Erma
get the credit.
We book into the Cania Gorge Caravan
& Tourist Park situated 7k past the national park's picnic area
(which is also the start of most walks). This park has been operating
for a long time and in fact we thought it was the only option here.
There is however a new one and it's only about 1k from the walks/picnic
The park we stayed in was immaculate
and the people friendly but the new one might be worth looking into
I go on one of the walks, a short
5-odd kilometres with the first 900m being quite steep. About half
way alone there's a delightful ferny grotto and pool.
A fern on one of the walks at Cania Gorge.
Tue 16 Apr 2002
I am up pretty early, on the bike and off to
look at a scene I noticed yesterday. The light is lousy so I ride
to the end of the park, still nothing catches my eye so I do a U-turn
and ride back towards the caravan park.
Just as I am deciding that this is
one of those fruitless days that come with the landscape photography
territory I spot a cactus growing in a burnt stump, about 100 metres
from the road.
Later we both do some bushwalking,
it's quite hot and I lug the big camera all over the countryside
but to no avail. I don't see a single photo.
Wed 17 Apr 2002
It's off to Biloela today to see about getting the gearbox fixed.
Just north of the Cania Gorge turnoff there's a long hill, most
of which is a 7% grade. There are a few flat spots but basically
the hill is 8k in length. It took us 25 minutes to get to the top.
Previously I had spoken with someone
at a workshop in Biloela and we agreed that we could park the truck
in their yard and live in it while they fixed the problem.
However, (isn't there always a "however"?)
when we get there they decide that their insurance would not cover
us while we are on the premises. So it's on to plan B, but first
we have to come up with a plan B.
After a few minutes we have one,
we park somewhere, I pull the gearbox out of the truck, they collect
it, fix it and return it to me, and then I put it back in. This
should also save us some money as I do most of the grunt work.
So far so good, but if we are going
to be stuck somewhere it might as well be somewhere nice, and Callide
Dam (15k out of town) sounds good. I get on a bike to check it out
and return half an hour later with good news, it is a nice spot.
We move the truck and set up camp at Callide Dam.
By now it's getting late so I get
straight under the truck. Before long I have the drive shafts, linkages
and half the retaining bolts off. The box is just hanging on a couple
of bolts but that's all I can do until they bring a trolley jack
The sun is setting as I finish so
we grab a couple of drinks and walk to the top of the dam wall to
watch the brilliant colours. Now what was that saying? "Red
sky at night, things are gunna be all right".
Thu 18 Apr 2002
WRONG!! It's "Red sky at night, you're money's gunna take flight".
$3500 to rebuild the gearbox, at
least that was the first quote using original Eaton parts. $2800
using third-party bits. Youch.
I'll verify that this is a reasonable
price but it sounds about right.
Harry came out from the workshop
and we proceed to remove the gear box. I had missed a linkage at
the top of the box last night, thank goodness I had the foresight
to make the floor sections removable so I could access the various
parts of the drive train from above. It would have been impossible
to get to the linkage otherwise.
Parked near the shores of Callide Dam. The spare wheel is
out to allow us to extract the gearbox from under the truck.
The tools are out again. Note the tarp, a medium size tarp
(say 3x6 metres) is invaluable when working under a vehicle
on grassy or dirty ground.
Chris reported that there were some
frogs trapped in one of the ladies loos so Super Rob (frog rescuer
extraordinaire) put his undies on the outside and flew to the frog's
By the time I get there (it took
a while to find some red undies) there was only one frog to be seen.
He tries to flee back up the S-bend but my hand follows and I soon
have him. What a cute little fellow.
I try to put him down but he won't
let go so I prise him from my hand and place him on the floor. He
sits there for a second then springs onto my leg and holds on half
way up my shin. I guess I've made a friend.
I place him in a different area and
this time he climbs the wall and disappears over the top.
Fri 19 Apr 2002
I ride into town today and give the go-ahead to fix the gearbox.
What with waiting for parts and doing the work we'll be here for
several days yet.
The long arm of the water authority
catches up with us today, apparently this is a 24 hour camping area.
We advise him of our current broken state and he says not to worry,
we can stay as long as necessary.
He also told us that the lake is
well down at present. We had figured that, because we could see
a high-water mark, but the mark was still well below the dam wall.
Our truck is several hundred metres
from the shore but he says if the dam was full we'd have wet tyres.
Later I go for a ride to check out
the boat ramp. I find it, it's at least a hundred metres long which
implies that they are used to fluctuating water levels around here,
but at present it's well out of the water. Further down hill there's
another, also high and dry. Eventually I find the spot where people
actually launch their boats these days, a strip if dirt with some
rubber mats for use if you get bogged.
Sun 21 Apr 2002
It's email day. I usually dial in on Sundays to pick up new email
and send any I've prepared over the previous week.
Out here though the connection is
a bit dicky and I don't want drop outs as I pay for a new call each
I find that wandering around the
outside of the truck helps...
The road warrior in action, getting email with no wires
attached. The laptop's power supply in the background.
...but it would be dark at the time
(I don't normally dial until after 7PM, it's half price) so I'd
rather be inside. What about the roof? Sure enough I get an even
better signal up there so I cart the phone, laptop, torch and a
tripod through the rear door of the bedroom.
I hang the phone upside down over
the tripod by its cable (it seems to work better if placed away
from the metal roof) and secure it with a scrunchy from Chris' hair.
I plug in and dial up, no problems.
It seems rather surreal in the pitch
black, on top of my Mad Max machine connected to the world wide
web with a roof of brilliant stars and planets (I could identify
Jupiter and assume the other one was Venus).
I take a photo to show how you can
use your email while on the road in the middle of the night on top
of a motorhome.
On top of the truck uploading the additions to my web site.
As you can see it didn't turn out
Mon 22 Apr 2002
I uploaded the latest chronicle issue tonight.
Once again the only place I can get a good signal is from the rooftop.
What with program bugs and signal
dropouts it takes over two hours. I am freezing by the time it has
Tue 23 Apr 2002
Off to the library to do some browsing of my
site to see if last night's upload worked. There are a few files
missing so I pay a local computer shop $5 to borrow a phone line
for a while so I can rectify the problem.
The gearbox is finished this morning
and at 2:15PM it arrives at our campsite, along with mechanics Harry
Mark is a big burly footballer and
that proves useful as the box requires some encouragement to return
Once the box is on the spline and
a couple of bolts are done up Harry and Mark leave and I complete
Wed 24 Apr 2002
We finish tidying up, top up with water (the picnic area's tap is
leaking so I get out some tools and fix it while filling up), then
drive into town.
The Biloela Woollies is very large
and the prices better than we've seen in towns on the coast. So
with this in mind we buy some more food, not that we really need
anything but it makes sense to stock up when you can and when the
prices are cheap.
We also take on another 250 litres
of diesel and 80 litres of petrol.
Leaving Biloela we turn north on
the Burnett Highway and head towards Baralaba.
The map shows a turnoff to Baralaba
at the village of Jambin and, on entering the town, we do see an
unsignposted road heading in the right direction. I am pretty sure
it's the road we want but it's time for a break so we park nearby
in the picnic area.
Before long the garbage man comes
by so I collar him and ask about the way to Baralaba.
"Ooooh" he says with a
country drawl. He scratches his chin as his eyes go skyward, "let
me see now...you go up this road about ten mile...then you turn
left and after a while you get to...you turn hard right...drive
past the pub...turn hard left...there's a turnoff to...don't take
that...go past the big Boab tree and old farmhouse...".
He lost me at "let me see now"
so I point to the road twenty yards away and say, "What about
that, were does that go?"
"Awww yeah" he exclaims,
"that's the shortcut, you could take that".
I thank him and wait until I am out
of sight before bursting into laughter.
We leave Jambin and drive to Baralaba
along a good bitumen road, despite the maps we have showing it as
A "lean too" in a fields along the road to Baralaba.
Thu 25 Apr 2002
Chris and I go for a walk into town. It's ANZAC day so everything
A shop in the main street.
This diesel pump was almost overgrown and with the price
over 90c I'm not surprised.
Signs on the outskirts of town.
Fri 26 Apr 2002
I guess we've all heard about blue-green algae but it's not until
we get to the Neville Hewitt Wier at Baralaba that we really appreciated
how bad it can get.
We've been seeing a lot of these signs lately.
Anyone for a swim? The algae seems to bloom in the afternoon
...but doesn't look to bad in the morning.
The campsite here is just great and
apparently well known as our fellow campers had all been here before
and told of times when there were 30-40 vans and motorhomes camped.
It's right on the banks of the Dawson
River, which is mostly just a trickle but wider here because of
the wier a kilometre or so down stream.
We meet two nice couples at the weir,
Denys & Anne and Jerzy & Gail. On the first night we had
happy hour, two beers and back to our own rigs at seven. The second
night it was three beers and home by nine. And last night I had
four beers followed by several glasses of home-made Baily's Irish
Cream and we were still carrying on at eleven.
We've got to get out of here, it's
too much fun.
Sat 27 Apr 2002
We drive from Baralaba to Rolleston via Woorabinda. The trip is
about 150k of which 70k is badly corrugated dirt road.
The truck gives a very rough ride
so we drive quite slowly, usually between 15 and 30 kph. Chris comments
that she likes the slow pace, it gives her time to look at things.
She's not kidding, for a while she was reading the labels of discarded
beer bottles as we drove past.
Arriving at Rolleston we check into
the caravan park to top up power in the batteries and water in the
Rolleston hasn't changed much since
the last time we were here. One snack bar has closed and another
opened, there's also a slightly better selection of groceries, this
time at the service station, and the caravan park has been improved,
but that's about it.
Our neighbours are the guys from
Central & Southern Earthmoving and they're in the area building
dams, they have a mess van and a five-birth transportable for accommodation,
both of which are dropped in a caravan park while they build dams
on the surrounding area. They've just done one 4km around, now that's
a big dam.
Sun 28 Apr 2002
We leave Rolleston, drive across the Comet River (now totally dry)
and turn south onto the Carnarvon Development Road, towards Carnarvon
We're not booked into the Gorge until
tomorrow so we drive past the turnoff looking for a road to Lake
Nuga Nuga. We never find the road but we both think we remember
a camping spot a few kilometres down the road.
After driving 40k without finding
the spot we admit defeat and turn around. This time, when we reach
the Gorge turnoff we take it. The road to Carnarvon Gorge used to
be all dirt, about 44k of it, but we are pleasantly surprised to
see that the first half (over 20k) has now been sealed.
We find a quite nook on the side
of the road, about 14k from the Gorge campground, and park the truck.
I get on a bike, ride into the campground to verify our booking
and ensure that we will get a sunny spot for the solar panels.
On the return trip I am bailed up
twice by cows. It must be something about the time of day or whatever
but these cows would not move from my path until I almost push them
with the bike.
On the second occasion the cow is
standing on the far side of a cattle grid I had to cross. I stop
and we faced off, I move forward and so does the cow, I move forward
again and so does the cow, I move forward yet again and then have
a flash of inspiration. I raise my fist and extend my thumb and
little finger, Crocodile Dundee fashion, sure enough the cow backs
Mon 29 Apr 2002
Another 4AM start (why always 4AM? I hear you
ask, I don't know how to change the alarm clock), I check around
the truck with the torch and, when finished, place it on the bull
Minutes later we drive off, torch
still on bull bar. By the time we realise it was too far back to
be worth returning.
The road is very corrugated so I
select low range and we take it easy. In low range the truck's top
speed is about 30kph but we keep to around 15kph, at this speed
the corrugations are more like little hills which we roll over rather
that bounce across.
As we enter the Oasis Lodge area
there is a sign, "Slow down to reduce dust" it says and
above that is a 15kph speed limit sign. That shouldn't be a problem.
Within a few hundred metres we hit
a very steep downhill followed by and equally steep, but longer,
uphill. We crawl down, and then up, these hills in low-first. The
new bicycle computer I've installed as a speedo reads 3kph.
As we arrive well before the office
opens we park in the day use car park. Later Chris goes for a walk
and I decide to give myself a haircut, not a number two though,
this time I'm going the whole hog, I get out the number one comb,
clip it onto the shears and get to work.
Minutes later it's done, uneven but
done. There's piles of short hair cuttings on the ground, looking
rather like tufts of fur from some strange animal. Lord knows what
kind of animal subsequent visitors thought had had a bad case of
mange in the car park.
We book into the Gorge, it's a great
camping ground with heaps of nice shady spots. Of course we want
a nice sunny spot so they move us from our booked site and give
us the sunniest they have.
Site #15, the sunniest they had but we didn't get much sun for
There's been some improvements around
here since our last visit. One such improvement is the addition
of hot showers, they're coin operated, requiring the insertion of
a $1 coin for three minutes of hot water. At that rate, given my
preference for long showers, I'd need one that accepted credit cards.
We've come back to Carnarvon Gorge
partly because it's here that, five years ago, we decided to drop
everything and hit the road, (see
here for the relevant chronicle entry) and partly because it's
just a great spot.
I plan to do the ten-kilometre walk
to the Big Bend campsite (camping for bushwalkers only) but when
I get into the office to register I notice that camping was also
allowed up on Battleship Spur. "Oooo that looks all right"
I said, "sign me up for two nights". Battleship spur is
another four kilometres from Big Bend, making a total walk of 28k
there and back over a couple of days. No problems I think.
I haven't done a real walk in about
four years so I spend the rest of the afternoon shooing the moths
from my bushwalking equipment.
Later, while having an afternoon
cuppa, we see at least a million (no exaggeration) school kids heading
our way. As they pass one breaks ranks, "Hi Rob" she says.
It's young Pippa, the daughter of friends and fellow WORT owners
Andrew and Judy. Judging from the "cool" and "wicked"
comments emanating from Pippa's school mates I suspect she gained
a few brownie points by being associated with Wothahellizat.
As the kids pass I notice a new branch
protruding from the tree right next to the lounge room. When the
"branch" moves I realise that it's a goanna.
Our friendly neighbourhood goanna.
As the sun sets I sit on the deck
with beer in hand. All preparations have been made, tomorrow I just
have to get up and walk.
In the evening gloom I hear the "bash,
bash, bash" of a kangaroo bounding through the bush. Staring
in the direction of the noise I can see nothing for a while, then
some of the amorphous grey detaches itself, turns into a kangaroo,
and stands silhouetted on the track like half an Australian Coat
of Arms, waiting for the Emu to arrive.
Tue 30 Apr 2002
I get off to a late start, due mostly to a back problem I've had
for some time now (I can't get it, my back that is, off the bed
before about 8AM).
After a quick breakfast it's on with
the pack and I'm off, bravely striding to parts unknown, but that's
another story (see "I
battle up Battleship Spur").
Wed 1 May 2002
I get back from the walk a total basket case. I had left brave but
returned broken. My feet hurt so badly I can hardly walk by the
time I pass the park office, and I still have to walk another 500m
to our nice sunny campsite. Oh why didn't we take the shady spot
originally allocated to us, it was right near the office.
I hold my breath, set my face and
continue to place one foot in front of the other.
"You're back early", it
was some panel beaters we'd befriended earlier. "Can't talk"
I manage between gritting teeth, "if I stop you'll have to
carry me the rest of the way". Finally I reach the truck, drop
my pack, sit on the step and remove my boots. Heaven.
Several times during the course of
the walk I vowed never to go bushwalking again and I retake that
vow as I sit in the lounge room with aching feet propped high.
But time has a way of healing all
things, half an hour later I am still just as sore but I've had
a shower and am sitting in my recliner, beer in one hand and map
in the other, planning my next walk.
Meanwhile Chris had been on the 20k
walk to Big Bend and she's not even sore. She attributes that to
the walks she's been doing pretty much every day since we left Canberra
six months ago. As it happened she was only about half an hour ahead
of me as we both walked back down the gorge.
The campground has a large population of kangaroos that almost
totally ignore the humans.
Thur 2 May 2002
It's a miracle, I can walk again. Well at least
I can hobble over to the loos with hands in pockets looking up pretending
that my slow awkward pace is because there's something of fascination
in the trees.
Today is a day of rest, whether I
like it or not.
Chris however is buoyed by her recent
successful 20k jaunt and bolts up Boolimba Bluff, a couple of hundred
metres or so above the campground, accessed by a very steep path
and a lot of steps and ladders.
I was supposed to be able to see
her with the binoculars and apparently she jumped up and down and
waved like an idiot for 15 minutes but to no avail, I didn't see
Later that evening we both walk up
to the loos, it is pitch black so we take a torch (fortunately we
have several torches). I decide to carry onto another toilet block
while Chris returns to the truck so I, rather magnanimously I thought,
say that she can take the torch.
"Are you sure you'll be able
to see?" she asks. "Yeah, no problems" I reply, took
two steps and walk straight into a log.
The offending log had been placed
on the ground as a form of traffic control, it was about two feet
in diameter which put its leading edge about one foot from the ground.
By sheer coincidence that's the exact height of the middle of my
So my right leg stops dead but the
rest of my body keeps moving, naturally I fall over the log. As
I begin falling I somehow tuck my head in and roll, performing a
perfect somersault and returning to my feet in one movement, right
in front of some startled campers returning from the slide night.
"Whoa, you don't do that every
day" I say and carry on, waiting until I figure they are out
of sight before checking for any broken bits and brushing myself
Sat 4 May 2002
We pack up and leave Carnarvon Gorge. No excitement
to record today, unless you count the finding of our wayward torch,
still lying on the side of the road after five days. Oh, and the
fact that I drive for several kilometres with the handbrake on.
The truck is so highly geared that, in low range, it is impossible
to tell that the handbrake is engaged until we stop and I go to
put it on. Oops, it's already on.
The house batteries are low, I need
to get my email and it looks like rain, so we book into the Rolleston
caravan park and plug into the power.
Post a comment