(ILLUSTRATION: VIEW IN THE GLEN OF PALMS.)
Milk thistle.
In the glen.
A serpentine and rocky road.
Name a new creek.
Grotesque hills.
Caves and caverns.
Cypress pines.
More natives.
Astonish them.
Agreeable scenery.
Sentinel stars.
Pelicans.
Wild and picturesque scenery.
More natives.
Palm-trees.
A junction in the glen.
High ranges to the north.
Palms and flowers.
The Glen of Palms.
Slight rain.
Rain at night.
Plant various seeds.
End of the glen.
Its length.
Krichauff Range.
The northern range.
Level country between.
A gorge.
A flooded channel.
Cross a western tributary.
Wild ducks.
Ramble among the mountains.
Their altitude.
A splendid panorama.
Progress stopped by a torrent and impassable gorge.
Our start this morning was late, some of our horses having wandered in
the night, the feed at the camp not being very good; indeed the only
green herb met by us, for some considerable distance, has been the sow
or milk thistle (Sonchus oleraceus), which grows to a considerable
height. Of this the horses are extremely fond: it is also very
fattening. Entering the mouth of the glen, in two miles we found
ourselves fairly enclosed by the hills, which shut in the river on
both sides. We had to follow the windings of the serpentine channel;
the mountains occasionally forming steep precipices overhanging the
stream, first upon one side, then upon the other. We often had to lead
the horses separately over huge ledges of rock, and frequently had to
cut saplings and lever them out of the way, continually crossing and
recrossing the river. On camping in the glen we had only made good
eleven miles, though to accomplish this we had travelled more than
double the distance. At the camp a branch creek came out of the
mountains to the westwards, which I named Phillip's Creek. The whole
of this line of ranges is composed of red sandstone in large or small
fragments, piled up into the most grotesque shapes. Here and there
caves and caverns exist in the sides of the hills.
A few trees of the cypress pine (Callitris) were seen upon the summits
of the higher mounts. The hills and country generally seen in this
glen are more fertile than those outside, having real grass instead of
triodia upon their sides. I saw two or three natives just before
camping; they kept upon the opposite side of the water, according to a
slight weakness of theirs. Just at the time I saw them, I had my eye
on some ducks upon the water in the river bed, I therefore determined
to kill two birds with one stone; that is to say, to shoot the ducks
and astonish the natives at the same time. I got behind a tree, the
natives I could see were watching me most intently the while, and
fired. Two ducks only were shot, the remainder of the birds and the
natives, apparently, flying away together. Our travels to-day were
very agreeable; the day was fine, the breezes cool, and the scenery
continually changing, the river taking the most sinuous windings
imaginable; the bed of it, as might be expected in such a glen, is
rough and stony, and the old fear of the horses bogging has departed
from us. By bearings back upon hills at the mouth of the glen I found
our course was nearly north 23 degrees west. The night was clear and
cold; the stars, those sentinels of the sky, appeared intensely
bright. To the explorer they must ever be objects of admiration and
love, as to them he is indebted for his guidance through the untrodden
wilderness he is traversing. "And sweet it is to watch them in the
evening skies weeping dew from their gentle eyes." Several hundred
pelicans, those antediluvian birds, made their appearance upon the
water early this morning, but seeing us they flew away before a shot
could be fired. These birds came from the north-west; indeed, all the
aquatic birds that I have seen upon the wing, come and go in that
direction. I am in hopes of getting through this glen to-day, for
however wild and picturesque the scenery, it is very difficult and bad
travelling for the unshod horses; consequently it is difficult to get
them along. There was no other road to follow than the windings of the
river bed through this mountain-bound glen, in the same manner as
yesterday. Soon after starting, I observed several natives ahead of
us; immediately upon their discovering us they raised a great outcry,
which to our ears did not exactly resemble the agreeable vibration of
the melodious sound, it being quite the opposite. Then of course
signal fires were made which raised great volumes of smoke, the
natives thinking perhaps to intimidate and prevent us from farther
advance. Neither of these effects was produced, so their next idea was
to depart themselves, and they ran ahead of us up the glen. I also saw
another lot of some twenty or thirty scudding away over the rocks and
stony hills--these were probably the women and children. Passing their
last night's encampment, we saw that they had left all their valuables
behind them--these we left untouched. One old gentleman sought the
security of a shield of rock, where this villain upon earth and fiend
in upper air most vehemently apostrophised us, and probably ordered us
away out of his territory. To the command in itself we paid little
heed, but as it fell in with our own ideas, we endeavoured to carry it
out as fast as possible. This, I trust, was satisfactory, as I always
like to do what pleases others, especially when it coincides with my
own views.
"It's a very fine thing, and delightful to see
Inclination and duty both join and agree."
Some of the natives near him threatened us with their spears, and
waved knobbed sticks at us, but we departed without any harm being
done on either side.
(ILLUSTRATION: THE PALM-TREE FOUND IN THE GLEN OF PALMS.)
Soon after leaving the natives, we had the gratification of
discovering a magnificent specimen of the Fan palm, a species of
Livistona, allied to one in the south of Arnhem's Land, and now
distinguished as the Maria Palm (Baron von Mueller), growing in the
channel of the watercourse with flood drifts against its stem. Its
dark-hued, dome-shaped frondage contrasted strangely with the paler
green foliage of the eucalyptus trees that surrounded it. It was a
perfectly new botanical feature to me, nor did I expect to meet it in
this latitude. "But there's a wonderful power in latitude, it alters a
man's moral relations and attitude." I had noticed some strange
vegetation in the dry flood drifts lower down, and was on the qui vive
for something new, but I did not know that. This fine tree was sixty
feet long, or high, in the barrel. Passing the palms, we continued
amongst the defiles of this mountain glen, which appears to have no
termination, for no signs of a break or anything but a continuation of
the range could be observed from any of the hills I ascended.
It was late in the afternoon when we left the palm-groves, and though
we travelled over twenty miles in distance could only make twelve good
from last camp. Although this glen was rough and rocky, yet the
purling of the water over its stony bed was always a delightful sound
to me; and when the winds of evening fanned us to repose, it seemed as
though some kindly spirit whispered that it would guard us while we
slept and when the sun declined the swift stream echoed on.
The following day being Sunday, the 1st September, I made it a day of
rest, for the horses at least, whose feet were getting sore from
continued travel over rocks and boulders of stone. I made an excursion
into the hills, to endeavour to discover when and where this
apparently interminable glen ceased, for with all its grandeur,
picturesqueness, and variety, it was such a difficult road for the
horses, that I was getting heartily tired of it; besides this, I
feared this range might be its actual source, and that I should find
myself eventually blocked and stopped by impassable water-choked
gorges, and that I should finally have to retreat to where I first
entered it. I walked and climbed over several hills, cliffs, and
precipices, of red sandstone, to the west of the camp, and at length
reached the summit of a pine-clad mountain considerably higher than
any other near it. Its elevation was over 1000 feet above the level of
the surrounding country. From it I obtained a view to all points of
the compass except the west, and could descry mountains, from the
north-east round by north to the north-north west, at which point a
very high and pointed mount showed its top above the others in its
neighbourhood, over fifty miles away. To the north and east of north a
massive chain, with many dome-shaped summits, was visible. Below,
towards the camp, I could see the channel of the river where it forced
its way under the perpendicular sides of the hills, and at a spot not
far above the camp it seemed split in two, or rather was joined by
another watercourse from the northwards. From the junction the course
of the main stream was more directly from the west. Along the course
of the tributary at about ten miles I could see an apparently open
piece of country, and with the glasses there appeared a sheet of water
upon it. I was glad to find a break in the chain, though it was not on
the line I should travel. Returning to my companions, I imparted to
them the result of my observations.
On Monday, the 2nd, there was a heaviness in the atmosphere that felt
like approaching rain. The thermometer during the night had not fallen
below 60 degrees; over 4 degrees higher than at our first night's camp
from the pillar. To-day, again following the mazy windings of the
glen, we passed the northern tributary noticed yesterday, and
continued on over rocks, under precipices, crossing and re-crossing
the channel, and turning to all points of the compass, so that nearly
three miles had to be travelled to make good one. Clumps of the
beautiful palms were occasionally passed, growing mostly in the river
bed, and where they appear, they considerably enliven the scenery.
During my sojourn in this glen, and indeed from first starting, I
collected a great number of most beautiful flowers, which grow in
profusion in this otherwise desolate glen. I was literally surrounded
by fair flowers of every changing hue. Why Nature should scatter such
floral gems upon such a stony sterile region it is difficult to
understand, but such a variety of lovely flowers of every kind and
colour I had never met with previously. Nature at times, indeed,
delights in contrasts, for here exists a land "where bright flowers
are all scentless, and songless bright birds." The flowers alone would
have induced me to name this Glen Flora; but having found in it also
so many of the stately palm trees, I have called it the Glen of Palms.
Peculiar indeed, and romantic too, is this new-found watery glen,
enclosed by rocky walls, "Where dial-like, to portion time, the
palm-tree's shadow falls."
While we were travelling to-day, a few slight showers fell, giving us
warning in their way that heavier falls might come. We were most
anxious to reach the northern mouth of the glen if possible before
night, so heartily tired were we of so continuously serpentine a
track; we therefore kept pushing on. We saw several natives to-day,
but they invariably fled to the fastnesses of their mountain homes,
they raised great volumes of smoke, and their strident vociferations
caused a dull and buzzing sound even when out of ear-shot. The
pattering of the rain-drops became heavier, yet we kept on, hoping at
every turn to see an opening which would free us from our
prison-house; but night and heavier rain together came, and we were
compelled to remain another night in the palmy glen. I found a small
sloping, sandy, firm piece of ground, probably the only one in the
glen, a little off from the creek, having some blood-wood or red
gum-trees growing upon it, and above the reach of any flood-mark--for
it is necessary to be careful in selecting a site on a watercourse,
as, otherwise, in a single instant everything might be swept to
destruction. We were fortunate indeed to find such a refuge, as it was
large enough for the horses to graze on, and there was some good feed
upon it. By the time we had our tarpaulins fixed, and everything under
cover, the rain fell in earnest. The tributary passed this morning was
named Ellery's Creek. The actual distance we travelled to-day was
eighteen miles; to accomplish this we travelled from morn till night.
Although the rain continued at intervals all night, no great quantity
fell. In the morning the heavens were clear towards the south, but to
the north dense nimbus clouds covered the hills and darkened the sky.
Not removing the camp, I took another ramble into the hills to the
east of the camp, and from the first rise I saw what I was most
anxious to see, that is to say, the end, or rather the beginning of
the glen, which occurred at about two miles beyond our camp. Beyond
that the Finke came winding from the north-west, but clouds obscured a
distant view. It appeared that rain must still be falling north of us,
and we had to seek the shelter of our canvas home. At midday the whole
sky became overclouded, rain came slowly down, and when the night
again descended heavier still was then the fall. At an hour after
daylight on the morrow the greatest volume fell, and continued for
several hours. At midday it held up sufficiently to enable me to plant
some seeds of various trees, plants, vegetables, etc., given me
specially by Baron von Mueller. Among these were blue gum (tree),
cucumbers, melons, culinary vegetables, white maize, prairie grass,
sorghum, rye, and wattle-tree seeds, which I soaked before planting.
Although the rain lasted thirty-six hours in all, only about an inch
fell. It was with great pleasure that at last, on the 5th, we left the
glen behind us, and in a couple of miles debouched upon a plain, which
ran up to the foot of this line of ranges. The horses seemed to be
especially pleased to be on soft ground again. The length of this glen
is considerable, as it occupies 31 minutes of latitude. The main
bearing of it is nearly north 25 degrees west; it is the longest
feature of the kind I ever traversed, being over forty miles straight,
and over a hundred miles of actual travelling, and it appeared the
only pass through the range, which I named the Krichauff. To the north
a higher and more imposing chain existed, apparently about twenty
miles away. This northern chain must be the western portion of the
McDonnell Range. The river now is broader than in the glen; its bed,
however, is stony, and not boggy, the country level, sandy, and thinly
timbered, mostly all the vegetation being burnt by grass fires set
alight by the natives.
Travelling now upon the right bank of this stream, we cut off most of
the bends, which, however, were by no means so extensive or so
serpentine as in the glen or on the south side of it. Keeping near the
river bank, we met but little porcupine grass for the most part of the
day's stage, but there was abundance of it further off. The river took
us to the foot of the big mountains, and we camped about a mile below
a gorge through which it issues. As we neared the new hills, we became
aware that the late rains were raising the waters of the river. At six
miles before camping we crossed a tributary joining the Finke at right
angles from the west, where there are some ranges in that direction; a
slight stream was running down the bed. My next anxiety is to discover
where this river comes from, or whether its sources are to be found in
this chain. The day was delightfully fine and cool, the breezes seemed
to vibrate the echo of an air which Music, sleeping at her instrument,
had ceased to play. The ground is soft after the late rains. I said we
camped a mile below a gorge; at night I found my position to be in
latitude 23 degrees 40', and longitude 132 degrees 31', the variation
3 degrees east. We shot a few ducks, which were very fat and good.
This morning I took a walk into the hills to discover the best route
to take next. The high ranges north seem to be formed of three
separate lines, all running east and west; the most northerly being
the highest, rising over 2000 feet above the level of the surrounding
country, and, according to my barometrical and boiling-point
measurements, I found that at the Charlotte Waters I was 900 feet
above the sea. From that point up to the foot of these mountains the
country had steadily risen, as we traced the Finke, over 1000 feet, so
that the highest points of that range are over 4000 feet above sea
level; the most southerly of the three lines is composed of sandstone,
the middle and highest tiers I think change to granite. I climbed for
several hours over masses of hills, but always found one just a little
farther on to shut out the view. At length I reached the summit of a
high round mountain in the middle tier, and a most varied and splendid
panorama was spread before me, or I was spread before it.
To the north was the main chain, composed for the most part of
individual high mounts, there being a valley between them and the hill
I was on, and meandering along through this valley from the west I
could trace the course of the Finke by its timber for some miles. To
the east a mass of high and jumbled hills appeared, and one
bluff-faced mount was more conspicuous than the rest. Nearer to me,
and almost under my feet, was the gorge through which the river
passes, and it appears to be the only pass through this chain. I
approached the precipice overlooking the gorge, and found the channel
so flooded by the late rains, that it was impossible to get the horses
up through it. The hills which enclosed it were equally impracticable,
and it was utterly useless to try to get horses over them. The view to
the west was gratifying, for the ranges appeared to run on in
undiminished height in that direction, or a little north of it. From
the face of several of the hills climbed to-day, I saw streams of pure
water running, probably caused by the late rains. One hill I passed
over I found to be composed of puddingstone, that is to say, a
conglomeration of many kinds of stone mostly rounded and mixed up in a
mass, and formed by the smothered bubblings of some ancient and
ocean-quenched volcano. The surface of the place now more particularly
mentioned had been worn smooth by the action of the passage of water,
so that it presented the appearance of an enormous tessellated
pavement, before which the celebrated Roman one at Bognor, in Sussex,
which I remember, when I was a boy, on a visit to Goodwood, though
more artistically but not more fantastically arranged, would be
compelled to hide its diminished head. In the course of my rambles I
noticed a great quantity of beautiful flowers upon the hills, of
similar kinds to those collected in the Glen of Palms, and these
interested me so greatly, that the day passed before I was aware, and
I was made to remember the line, "How noiseless falls the foot of Time
that only treads on flowers." I saw two kangaroos and one rock
wallaby, but they were too wild to allow me to approach near enough to
get a shot at them. When I said I walked to-day, I really started on
an old favourite horse called Cocky, that had carried me for years,
and many a day have I had to thank him for getting me out of
difficulties through his splendid powers of endurance. I soon found
the hills too rough for a horse, so fixing up his bridle, I said, "Now
you stop there till I come back." I believe he knew everything I said,
for I used frequently to talk to him. When I came back at night, not
thinking he would stay, as the other horses were all feeding within
half a mile of him, there he was just as I had left him. I was quite
inclined to rest after my scrambles in the hills. During the night
nothing occurred to disturb our slumbers, which indeed were aided by
the sounds of the rippling stream, which sang to us a soothing song.