Simple as that.
This is our last morning in Monto. The town, two hundred kilometres inland from Bundaberg, has captured our hearts. Unusual for us to feel this way about a town that still actually exists.
Yesterday, John at the Monto Newsagency, was quick, witty and born for retail. We bought the Weekend Australian and the local rag. All visitors should drop in and say hello. An absolute treat.
Dazza and Dizi, husband and wife team at the Albert Hotel (Top Pub) have twice fed us, watered us and entertained us. Last night's triumph was Corned Beef with All the Trimmings and Chicken Parmi, which was so huge that Michael couldn't finish his meal. Dizi is a great country pub chef. Dazza wears a string of Hawaiian shirts that a mate picks up for him at the Op Shop. Just seeing Dazza in his shirt was worth going out.
Picky's Pies and Pastries produced the best steak and kidney pie I have ever eaten. Michael was pretty impressed with his Pepper Steak pie. We bought a packet of mini meringues for the road. For a tiny establishment, Picky's has won a whack of awards.
Monto Pharmacy was doing a brisk trade. Apart from mega-painkillers, I bought two decent-sized china mugs there for the rest of our trip. Big, bright, well laid-out and attentive staff.
Monto IGA did not close at noon, staying open until two o'clock. Also open Sunday mornings. Definitely not stuck in the Dark Ages.
A small market, next to the Tourism Information Centre, was well-supported. Ann knits ingenious washable shower "poofs". Unlike the cheap supermarket ones, Ann assured me that hers would not fall apart. So I bought two of them. For four dollars. Awesome.
The Monto Historical Society display was another unexpected treat. One of the enthusiastic volunteers showed Michael around familiar and unfamiliar relics of the early mining and agricultural industries. Naturally, there was a photograph or two to be taken.
None of this fun prepared us for the trip out to Cania Dam through the Sandstone Country. Forget any idea of sandstone being crumbly or boring. From flat valleys supporting cattle and crops, the sheer sandstone cliffs rose straight up, appearing at times to overhang us. That the rock was heavily wooded was a bonus.
I have not felt so small or insignificant for quite some time.
Cania Dam is a juggernaut. We stopped at various carparks to take photographs and on top of the lookout. In every direction, the views were stupendous.
We never actually made it to Cania Gorge. That will have to wait until our next visit. We stopped at the Shamrock Mine walk (all of six hundred metres) which would have been a doodle if I was fit. On the way up, I was convinced I was going to die. On the way down, I feared my wobbly legs would fail me.
The few remnants of that early gold mine were overshadowed by their surroundings. Interesting but the scenery was the star.
On the return to Monto Caravan and Cabin Park, our genial host Peter had lit the fire pit. We sat with other residents, enjoying a vino, great conversation and much laughter at all our exploits.
After dinner, pleasantly tired, we retired to our comfy bed in our cabin.
Vale Monto.
Interestingly painted Queenslander, Monto.
Another surprise in Monto!
Wagons...
Chaff cutters...
Wheels...
Cania Station Shed...
And of course, the stamp head battery. They call it a Gold Stamper.
Sandstone country...
From the lookout towards the Cania Dam wall.
And another view.
Just awe inspiring.
About now, words completely failed me.
Up the Shamrock Mine trail.
Towards the top.
View from the top.
Peter, host of Monto Caravan and Cabin Park and man about town.
A few of the residents, including,,,
Apostle birds, which has quite an unusual babbling call.
No comments:
Post a Comment