The natives continue with us.
Natta water-hole.
Myriads of flies.
Alec returns to Cheangwa.
Bashful Tommy.
Cowra man.
Native customs and rites.
Red granite mounds.
Loads carried by women.
Laura and Tommy.
"Cowra" remains.
Pretty amphitheatre.
Mount Hale range.
Flooded grassy flat.
Clianthus or desert pea.
Natives show us water.
New acquaintances.
Tell-tale fat.
Timber of the Murchison.
A waterhole.
Fine vegetation.
Mount Gould and Mount Hale.
A new tribe of natives.
Melbourne.
Pretty girls brought to the camp.
A picturesque place.
Plague of flies.
Angels' faces.
Peterman.
Ascend Mount Gould.
A high peak.
Country beautifully green.
Natives less friendly.
Leave Mount Gould.
Saleh's ponds.
Mount Labouchere.
Sandal-wood-trees.
Native well in a thicket.
An Australian scene.
The Valley of the Gascoyne.
Beautiful trees.
A fire-brand.
Stony pass.
Native orange.
A second anniversary.
Ascent of the peak.
Severe country for camels' feet.
Grassy plain.
The Lyon's river.
Native fires.
Another anniversary.
A new watercourse.
A turkey bustard.
An extraordinary scene.
Remarks upon the country.
The harem elected to continue with us. Natta was reached in about nine
miles, north-east by north from Pia. On the way we passed some
excellent and occasionally flooded country, and saw some sheets of
rain-water on which were numerous ducks, but our sportsmen were not so
fortunate as to bag any, the birds being so exceedingly shy. I got a
few afterwards, when we reached Natta. The thermometer to-day, 96
degrees. The country was beautifully green, and the camels beginning
to show great signs of improvement. The only drawbacks to our
enjoyments were the myriads of flies by day and mosquitoes at night.
It now turned out that Alec Ross had forgotten something, that he
wanted at Cheangwa, and we waited here until he returned. During his
absence we actually got enough ducks to give us all a most excellent
dinner, and some to spare for the girls, who left all the hunting to
the men and boys, and remained very comfortably in the camp. Peter
Nicholls was quite in his glory among them. Tommy, being a very
good-looking boy, was an object of great admiration to a good many of
them; but he was so bashful he wouldn't even talk to them, though they
tried very hard to make love to him. Alec having returned, we left
Natta on the 14th, and went about north-east by east, to a small
brackish water in a little creek channel, which we reached in about
fifteen miles. Here our native escort was increased by the arrival of
a young black gentleman, most beautifully dressed in fat and red
ochre, with many extraordinary white marks or figures all over his
back; we were informed that he was a "cowra man." I had heard this
expression before, and it seems it is a custom with the natives of
this part of the country, like those of Fowler's and Streaky Bays on
the south coast, to subject the youths of the tribe to a mutilating
operation. After this they are eligible for marriage, but for a
certain time, until the wounds heal, they are compelled to absent
themselves from the society of women. They go about the country
solitary and wretched, and continually utter a short, sharp "cowra
cry" to warn all other men to keep their women away, until the time of
their probation is over. Married men occasionally go on "cowra" also,
but for what reason, I do not know. The time of our new arrival, it
appeared, was just up, and he seemed very glad indeed of it, for he
was evidently quite a society young man, and probably belonged to one
of the first families. He talked as though he knew the country in
advance for hundreds of miles, and told us he intended to come with
us.
The country we were now passing through was all covered with low
timber, if indeed the West Australian term of thicket was not more
applicable. There was plenty of grass, but as a rule the region was
poor; no views could be had for any distance. I was desirous of making
my way to, or near to, Mount Hale, on the Murchison River. None of our
natives knew any feature beyond, by its European name. A low line of
hills ran along westerly, and a few isolated patches of granite hills
occurred occasionally to the east of our line of march. We reached a
chain of little creeks or watercourses, and on the 15th camped at a
small water-hole in latitude 26 degrees 46', and longitude about 116
degrees 57'. From hence we entered thickets, and arrived at the foot
of some red granite mounds, where our cowra man said there was plenty
of water in a rock-hole. It turned out, however, as is usually the
case with these persons, that the information was not in strict
accordance with the truth, for the receptacle he showed us was
exceedingly small, and the supply of water which it contained was
exceedingly smaller.
Mount Murchison bore south 14 degrees west; the latitude of the camp
at these rocks was 26 degrees 36' 8". A lot of stony hills lay in
front of us to the north. Our Cheangwa natives, like the poor, were
always with us, although I was anxious to get rid of them; they were
too much of a good thing; like a Portuguese devil, when he's good he's
too good. Here I thought it advisable to try to induce them to return.
A good many of the girls really cried; however, by the promise of some
presents of flour, tea, sugar, shirts, tobacco, red handkerchiefs,
looking glasses, etc., we managed to dry their tears. It seemed that
our little friends had now nearly reached the boundary of their
territories, and some of the men wanted to go back, perhaps for fear
of meeting some members of hostile tribes beyond; and though the men
do occasionally go beyond their own districts, they never let the
women go if they can help it; but the women being under our
protection, didn't care where they went. Many of them told me they
would have gone, perhaps not in such poetic phrase as is found in
Lallah Rookh, east, west--alas! I care not whither, so thou art safe
and I with thee. It was, however, now agreed that they should return.
The weight of the loads some of these slim-figured girls and young
wives carried, mostly on their heads, was astonishing, especially when
a good-sized child was perched astride on their shoulders as well. The
men, of course, carried nothing but a few spears and sticks; they
would generally stay behind to hunt or dig out game, and when
obtained, leave it for the lubras or women to bring on, some of the
women following their footsteps for that purpose.
The prettiest of these girls, or at least the one I thought the
prettiest, was named Laura; she was a married young lady with one
child. They were to depart on the morrow. At about eleven or twelve
o'clock that night, Laura came to where my bed was fixed, and asked me
to take her to see Tommy, this being her last opportunity. "You little
viper," I was going to say, but I jumped up and led her quietly across
the camp to where Tommy was fast asleep. I woke him up and said,
"Here, Tommy, here's Laura come to say 'good-bye' to you, and she
wants to give you a kiss." To this the uncultivated young cub replied,
rubbing his eyes, "I don't want to kiss him, let him kiss himself!"
What was gender, to a fiend like this? and how was poor Laura to be
consoled?
Our cowra and a friend of his, evidently did not intend to leave us
just yet; indeed, Mr. C. gave me to understand, that whithersoever I
went, he would go; where I lodged, he would lodge; that my people
should be his people; I suppose my God would be good enough for him;
and that he would walk with me to Melbourne. Melbourne was the only
word they seemed to have, to indicate a locality remote. Our course
from these rocks was nearly north, and we got into three very pretty
circular spaces or amphitheatres; round these several many-coloured
and plant-festooned granite hills were placed. Round the foot of the
right-hand hills, between the first and second amphitheatre, going
northerly, Mr. C. showed us three or four rock water-holes, some of
which, though not very large in circumference, were pretty deep, and
held more than sufficient for double my number of camels. Here we
outspanned for an hour and had some dinner, much to the satisfaction
of our now, only two attendants; we had come about six miles. From a
hill just above where we dined, I sighted a range to the north, and
took it to be part of the Mount Hale Range; Mount Hale itself lying
more easterly, was hidden by some other hills just in front. After
dinner we proceeded through, or across, the third amphitheatre, the
range in front appearing thirty to forty miles away. That night we
encamped in a thicket, having travelled only sixteen or seventeen
miles. In a few miles, on the following day, we came on to a line of
white or flood gum-trees, and thought there was a river or creek ahead
of us; but it proved only a grassy flat, with the gum-trees growing
promiscuously upon it. A profusion of the beautiful Sturt, or
desert-pea, or Clianthus Dampierii, grew upon this flat. A few low,
red granite hills to the north seemed to form the bank or edge of a
kind of valley, and before reaching them, we struck a salt
watercourse, in which our two satellites discovered, or probably knew
of before, a fresh waterhole in rock and sand in the channel of the
creek, with plenty of water in, where we encamped. The day was
exceedingly hot, and though near the end of the hot months, our
continued northerly progress made us painfully aware that we were
still in the region of "sere woodlands and sad wildernesses, where,
with fire, and fierce drought, on her tresses, insatiable summer
oppresses." Our latitude here was 26 degrees 14' 50".
Immediately upon arrival, our cowra man and his friend seemed aware of
the presence of other natives in the neighbourhood, and began to make
signal smokes to induce their countrymen to approach. This they very
soon did, heralding their advent with loud calls and cries, which our
two answered. Although I could not actually translate what the jabber
was all about, I am sure it was a continual question as to our
respectability, and whether we were fit and presentable enough to be
introduced into their ladies' society. The preliminaries and doubts,
however, seemed at last to be overcome, and the natives then made
their appearance. With them came also several of their young women,
who were remarkably good-looking, and as plump as partridges; but they
were a bit skeery, and evidently almost as wild as wild dogs. Our two
semi-civilised barbarians induced them to come nearer, however, and
apparently spoke very favourably about us, so that they soon became
sociable and talkative. They were not very much dressed, their
garments being composed of a very supple, dark kind of skin and hair,
which was so thickly smeared over with fat and red ochre, that if any
one attempted to hold them, it left a tell-tale mark of red fat all
over their unthinking admirers. The following day they wanted to
accompany us, but I would not permit this, and they departed; at
least, we departed, and with us came two men, who would take no
denial, or notice of my injunction, but kept creeping up after us
every now and then. Our cowra led us by evening to a small--very
small, indeed--rock-hole, in which there was scarcely sufficient water
for our four followers. It took me considerably out of my road to
reach it, and I was greatly disgusted when I did so. It lay nearly
north-west by west from the last camp, and was in latitude 26 degrees
7' 9". Mount Hale now bore a little to the north of east from us, and
the timber of the Murchison could be seen for the first time from some
hills near the camp.
I now steered nearly north-east, for about fifteen miles, until we
struck the river. The country here consisted of extensive grassy
flats, having several lines of gum-timber traversing it, and
occasionally forming into small water-channels; the entire width of
the river-bed here was between five and six miles. We went about three
miles into it, and had to encamp without water, none of the channels
we had passed having any in. I sent Alec Ross still further
northwards, and he found a small rain water-hole two miles farther
north-north-easterly; we went there on the following morning. The
grass and vegetation here, were very rich, high, and green. One of the
little dogs, Queenie, in running after some small game, was lost, and
at night had not returned to the camp, nor was she there by the
morning; but when Saleh and Tommy went for the camels, they found her
with them. I did not intend to ascend Mount Hale, but pushed for Mount
Gould, which bore north 55 degrees east. After crossing the Murchison
channel and flats--fine, grassy, and green--we entered thickets of
mulga, which continued for fifteen miles, until we arrived on the
banks of a watercourse coming from the north, towards the Murchison
near Mount Hale, and traversing the country on the west side of Mount
Gould. Mount Gould and Mount Hale are about twenty-two miles apart,
lying nearly north-north-east and south-south-west from one another,
and having the Murchison River running nearly east and west between,
but almost under the northern foot of Mount Hale. These two mounts
were discovered by H.C. Gregory in 1858.
We reached the Mount Gould creek on the 22nd of April, and almost so
soon as we appeared upon its banks, we flushed up a whole host of
natives who were living and hunting there. There were men, women, and
children in scores. There was little or no water in the many channels
of the new creek; and as there appeared yet another channel near Mount
Gould, we went towards it; the natives surrounding us, yelling and
gesticulating in the most excited state, but they were, so to say,
civil, and showed us some recent rain water in the channel at Mount
Gould's foot, at which I fixed the camp. As these were the same
natives or members of the same tribes, that had murdered one if not
both the young Clarksons, I determined to be very guarded in my
dealings with them. The men endeavoured to force their way into the
camp several times. I somewhat more forcibly repelled them with a
stick, which made them very angry. As a rule, very few people like
being beaten with a stick, and these were no exception. They did not
appear in the least degree afraid, or astonished, at the sight of the
camels. When they were hobbled out several of the men not only went to
look at them, but began to pull them about also, and laughed heartily
and in chorus when a camel lay down for them. One or two could say a
few words of English, and said, "Which way walk? You Melbourne walk?"
the magic name of Melbourne being even in these people's mouths. This
is to be accounted for by the fact that Mr. E. Wittenoom had returned
from thence not long before, and having taken a Cheangwa black boy
with him, the latter had spread the news of the wonders he had seen in
the great metropolis, to the uttermost ends of the earth.
There was not very much water where we camped, but still ample for my
time. The grass and herbage here were splendid and green. When the men
found I would not allow them to skulk about the camp, and apparently
desired no intercourse with them, some of them brought up first one,
then another, and another, and another, very pretty young girls; the
men leading them by the hand and leaving them alone in the camp, and
as it seemed to them that they were required to do or say something,
they began to giggle. The men then brought up some very nice-looking
little boys. But I informed them they might as well go; girls and boys
went away together, and we saw nothing more of them that evening. This
was a very pretty and picturesque place. Mount Gould rose with rough
and timbered sides to a pointed ridge about two miles from the camp.
The banks of the creek were shaded with pretty trees, and numerous
acacia and other leguminous bushes dotted the grassy flooded lands on
either side of the creek. The beauty of the place could scarcely be
enjoyed, as the weather was so hot and the flies such awful plagues,
that life was almost a misery, and it was impossible to obtain a
moment's enjoyment of the scene. The thermometer had stood at 103
degrees in the shade in the afternoon, and at night the mosquitoes
were as numerous and almost more annoying than the flies in the day.
The following day being Sunday, we rested, and at a very early hour
crowds of black men, women, boys, and children, came swarming up to
the camp. But the men were not allowed to enter. There was no
resisting the encroachments of the girls; they seemed out of their
wits with delight at everything they saw; they danced and pirouetted
about among the camels' loads with the greatest glee. Everything with
them was, "What name?" They wanted to know the name of everything and
everybody, and they were no wiser when they heard it. Some of these
girls and boys had faces, in olive hue, like the ideal representation
of angels; how such beauty could exist amongst so poor a grade of the
human race it is difficult to understand, but there it was. Some of
the men were good-looking, but although they had probably been
beautiful as children, their beauty had mostly departed. There were
several old women at the camp. They were not beautiful, but they were
very quiet and retiring, and seemed to feel gratification at the
pleasures the young ones enjoyed. Sometimes they would point out some
pretty girl or boy and say it was hers, or hers; they were really very
like human beings, though of course no one can possibly be a real
human being who does not speak English. A custom among the natives
here is to cicatrise in parallel horizontal lines the abdomens of the
female portion of the community. The scars of the old being long
healed left only faint raised lines, intended to hide any natural
corrugations; this in a great measure it did, but the younger,
especially those lately operated on, had a very unsightly appearance.
Surely these people cannot deem these the lines of beauty. These young
ladies were much pleased at beholding their pretty faces in a
looking-glass for the first time. They made continual use of the word
"Peterman." This was a word I had first heard from the natives of the
Rawlinson Range, upon my last horse expedition of 1874. It seems to
signify, where are you going? or where have you come from? or
something to that effect; and from the fact of their using it, it
appears that they must speak the same language as the natives of the
Rawlinson, which is over 600 miles away to the eastward, and is
separated from their territory by a vast and dreary desert. The day
was again distressingly hot; the thermometer in the afternoon rising
to 104 degrees in the shade, which so late in April is something
extraordinary. The girls seemed greatly to enjoy sitting in the fine
shade made by our awnings. The common house-fly swarmed about us in
thousands of decillions, and though we were attended by houris, I at
least did not consider myself in Paradise. The latitude of this camp
was 25 degrees 46' 37", and longitude 117 degrees 25'. Next day Alec
Ross and I climbed to the top of Mount Gould; this was rather rough
work, the height being between 1100 and 1200 feet above the
surrounding country, and 2600 feet above the sea level. The country
immediately to the eastward was flat and grassy, but with the
exception of a few miles from the foot of the mount, which was open
and clear, the whole region, though flat, is thickly covered with
mulga or thickets; this, in Western Australian parlance, is called a
plain. Mount Hale appeared much higher than this hill.
The only other conspicuous object in view was a high peak to the
north-north-east. The timber of the River Murchison could be traced
for some miles as coming from the eastwards, and sweeping under the
northern foot of Mount Hale. The creek the camp is situated on came
from the north-east. The creek we first saw the natives on, comes from
the north, and the two join before reaching the Murchison. Mount Gould
is almost entirely composed of huge blocks of almost pure iron, which
rendered the compass useless. The creek the camp is on appears to come
from some low hills to the north east-wards, and on leaving this place
I shall follow it up. Some recent rains must have fallen in this
neighbourhood, for the whole country is beautifully green. The flies
at the camp to-day were, if possible, even more numerous than before.
They infest the whole air; they seem to be circumambient; we can't
help eating, drinking, and breathing flies; they go down our throats
in spite of our teeth, and we wear them all over our bodies; they
creep up one's clothes and die, and others go after them to see what
they died of. The instant I inhale a fly it acts as an emetic. And if
Nature abhors a vacuum, she, or at least my nature, abhors these
wretches more, for the moment I swallow one a vacuum is instantly
produced. Their bodies are full of poisonous matter, and they have a
most disgusting flavour, though they taste sweet. They also cause
great pains and discomfort to our eyes, which are always full of them.
Probably, if the flies were not here, we might think we were overrun
with ants; but the flies preponderate; the ants merely come as
undertakers and scavengers; they eat up or take away all we smash, and
being attracted by the smell of the dead victims, they crawl over
everything after their prey. The natives appear far less friendly
to-day, and no young houris have visited us. Many of the men have
climbed into trees in the immediate neighbourhood of the camp, not
being allowed in, and are continually peering down at us and our
doings, and reporting all our movements to their associates. At our
meal-times they seem especially watchful, and anxious to discover what
it is we eat, and where it comes from. Some come occasionally creeping
nearer to our shady home for a more extensive view. Wistfully gazing
they come--
"And they linger a minute,
Like those lost souls who wait,
Viewing, through heaven's gate,
Angels within it."
By the morning of the following day I was very glad to find that the
natives had all departed. Saleh and Tommy were away after the camels,
and had been absent so many hours that I was afraid these people might
have unhobbled the camels and driven them off, or else attacked the
two who were after them. We waited, therefore, for their return in
great anxiety, hour after hour. As they only took one gun besides
their revolvers, I was afraid they might not be able to sustain an
attack, if the natives set upon them. After the middle of the day they
turned up, camels and all, which put an end to our fears.
We departed from Mount Gould late in the day, and travelled up the
creek our camp was on, and saw several small ponds of clear
rain-water, but at the spot where we camped, after travelling fifteen
miles, there was none. Mount Gould bore south 56 degrees west from
camp. The travelling for about twenty miles up the creek was pretty
good. At twenty-seven miles we came to the junction with another
creek, where a fine permanent rocky pool of fresh water, with some
good-sized fish in it, exists. I named this fine watering-place
Saleh's Fish-ponds, after my Afghan camel-driver, who was really a
first-rate fellow, without a lazy bone in his body. The greatest
requirement of a camel caravan, is some one to keep the saddles in
repair, and so avert sore backs. Saleh used to do this admirably, and
many times in the deserts and elsewhere I have known him to pass half
the night at this sort of work. The management of the camels, after
one learns the art, is simple enough; they are much easier to work
than a mob of pack-horses; but keeping the saddles right is a task of
the hardest nature. In consequence of Saleh's looking after ours so
well, we never had any trouble with sore-backed camels, thus escaping
a misfortune which in itself might wreck a whole caravan. We kept on
farther up our creek, and at a place we selected for a camp we got
some water by digging in the channel at a depth of only a few inches
in the sandy bed. The country now on both sides of the creek was both
stony and scrubby. Following it up, at ten miles farther, we reached
its head amongst the mass of hills which, by contributing lesser
channels, combine to form its source. Here we re-sighted the
high-peaked mount first seen from Mount Gould, and I decided to visit
it. It is most probably the mountain seen from a distance by H.C.
Gregory, and named by him Mount Labouchere. We were now among a mass
of dreadfully rough and broken hills, which proved very severe to the
camels' feet, as they had continually to descend into and rise again
out of, sharp gullies, the stones being nearly up-edged. The going up
and down these short, sharp, and sometimes very deep, stony
undulations, is a performance that these excellent animals are not
specially adapted for. Heavily-loaded camels have only a rope crupper
under their tails to keep the saddles and loads on, and in descending
these places, when the animals feel the crupper cutting them, some of
them would skip and buck, and get some of their loading off, and we
had a great deal of trouble in consequence.
Both yesterday and to-day, the 27th of April, we saw several stunted
specimens of the sandal-wood-tree of commerce, santalum. In the
afternoon, getting over the highest part of the hills, the country
fell slightly towards the north, and we reached a small creek with
gum-trees on it, running to the north-north-west; it was quite dry; no
rain appeared to have visited it or the country surrounding it for
centuries. As the sharp stones had not agreed with the camels, we
encamped upon it, although we could get no water. The latitude of our
camp on this dry creek was 25 degrees 19'. The flies and heat were
still terrible. Leaving the creek and steering still for the high peak
of Mount Labouchere, we came, at thirteen miles, upon a native well in
the midst of a grassy flat among thickets. The peak bore 6 degrees 30'
east of north from it. This well appeared to have been dug out of
calcareous soil. We did not use it, but continued our journey over and
through, both stony and occasionally sandy thickets, to some low hills
which rose before us to the north. On ascending these, a delightful
and truly Australian scene was presented to our view, for before us
lay the valley of the Gascoyne River. This valley is three or four
miles wide, and beautifully green. It is bounded on the north,
north-easterly, and north-westerly, by abrupt-faced ranges of hills,
while down through the centre of the grassy plain stretch serpentine
lines of vigorous eucalyptus-trees, pointing out the channels of the
numerous watercourses into which the river splits. The umbrageous and
evergreen foliage of the tops, the upright, creamy white stems of
these elegant gum-trees, contrasted remarkably and agreeably with the
dull and sombre hues of the treeless hills that formed the background,
and the enamelled and emerald earth that formed the groundwork of the
scene. We lost no time in descending from the hills to the beautiful
flat below, and discovered a fine long reach of water in the largest
channel, where there were numbers of wild ducks. The water was
slightly brackish in taste. It appeared to continue for a considerable
distance upon either hand, both east and west. The herbage was
exceedingly fine and green, and it was a most excellent place for an
encampment. The trees formed the greatest charm of the scene; they
were so beautifully white and straight. It could not be said of this
place that:
"The gnarled, knotted trunks Eucalyptian,
Seemed carved like weird columns Egyptian;
With curious device, quaint inscription,
And hieroglyph strange."
The high Mount Labouchere bore 8 degrees 20' east of north, the
latitude was 25 degrees 3', longitude 117 degrees 59', and the
variation 4 degrees 28' west. The wind blew fiercely from the east,
and seemed to betoken a change in the weather. From a hill to the
north of us we could see that small watercourses descended from low
hills to the north and joined the river at various points, one of
which, from a north-easterly direction, I shall follow. The country in
that direction seemed very rough and stony. We shot a number of ducks
and pigeons here. No natives came near us, although Saleh picked up a
burning fire-stick close to the camp, dropped by some wandering
savage, who had probably taken a very keen scrutiny and mental
photograph of us all, so as to enable him to give his
fellow-barbarians a full, true, and particular account of the wild and
hideous beings who had invaded their territory. The water-hole was
nearly three miles long; no other water was to be found in any of the
other channels in the neighbourhood. We have seen no other native game
here than ducks and pigeons. We noticed large areas of ground on the
river flats, which had not only been dug, but re-dug, by the natives,
and it seems probable that a great portion of their food consists of
roots and vegetables. I remained here two days, and then struck over
to the creek before mentioned as coming from the north-east. At eight
miles it ran through a rough stony pass between the hills. A few
specimens of the native orange-tree, capparis, were seen. We encamped
in a very rough glen without water. The country is now a mass of
jumbled stones. Still pushing for the peak, we moved slowly over
hills, down valleys, and through many rocky passes; generally
speaking, the caravan could proceed only along the beds of the
trumpery watercourses. By the middle of the 1st of May, the second
anniversary of the day I crawled into Fort McKellar, after the loss of
Gibson, we crawled up to the foot of Mount Labouchere; it seemed very
high, and was evidently very rough and steep. Alec Ross and Saleh
ascended the mount in the afternoon, and all the satisfaction they
got, was their trouble, for it was so much higher than any of its
surroundings that everything beyond it seemed flattened, and nothing
in particular could be seen. It is composed of a pink and
whitish-coloured granite, with quantities of calcareous stone near its
base, and it appears to have been formed by the action of submarine
volcanic force. No particular hills and no watercourses could be seen
in any northerly direction. The Gascoyne River could be traced by its
valley trend for twenty-five or thirty miles eastwards, and it is most
probable that it does not exist at all at fifty miles from where we
crossed it. The elevation of this mountain was found to be 3400 feet
above sea level, and 1800 feet above the surrounding country. The
latitude of this feature is 24 degrees 44', and its longitude 118
degrees 2', it lying nearly north of Mount Churchman, and distant 330
miles from it. There were no signs of water anywhere, nor could any
places to hold it be seen. It was very difficult to get a camel
caravan over such a country. The night we encamped here was the
coolest of the season; the thermometer on the morning of the 2nd
indicated 48 degrees. On the stony hills we occasionally saw stunted
specimens of the scented commercial sandal-wood and native
orange-trees. Leaving the foot of this mountain with pleasure, we went
away as north-easterly as we could, towards a line of hills with a gap
or pass in that direction. We found a small watercourse trending
easterly, and in it I discovered a pool of clear rain-water, all among
stones. We encamped, although it was a terribly rough place. Arriving
at, and departing from, Mount Labouchere has made some of the camels
not only very tender-footed, but in consequence of the stony layers
lying so up-edged, has cut some of them so badly that the caravan
might be tracked by a streak of blood on the stones over which we have
passed. This was not so much from the mere stones, but from the camels
getting their feet wedged into clefts and dragging them forcibly out.
Some were so fortunate as to escape without a scratch. We made very
little distance to-day, as our camp is not more than five miles from
the summit of the mountain, which bore south 61 degrees west from us.
We rested at this little pond for a day, leaving it again upon the
4th.
Following the watercourse we were encamped upon, it took us through a
pass, among the rough hills lying north-easterly. So soon as we
cleared the pass, the creek turned northerly, and ran away over a fine
piece of grassy plain, which was a kind of valley, between two lines
of hills running east and west, the valley being of some width. The
timber of the creek fell off here, and the watercourse seemed to
exhaust itself upon the valley in a westerly direction, but split into
two or three channels before ending, if, indeed, it does end here,
which I doubt, as I believe this valley and creek, form the head of
the Lyons River, as no doubt the channel forms again and continues its
course to the west. To-day on our journey I noticed some native
poplar-trees. We left all the water-channels on our left hand, and
proceeded north across the plain, towards a low part or fall, between
two ranges that run along the northern horizon. The valley consists of
grassy flats, though somewhat thickly timbered with mulga. Some
natives' fires were observed in the hills on our line of march. That
night we encamped without water, in a low part of the hills, after
travelling nineteen or twenty miles. The night became very cloudy, and
so was the next morning. We had more rough, stony, and scrubby hills
to traverse. At six miles we got over these and down into another
valley, but even in this, the country was all scrub and stones. We
encamped at a dry gum-creek, where there was good herbage and bushes
for the camels; but the whole region being so rough, it does not
please either us or the camels at all. They can't get soft places to
stand on while they are feeding, nor are their sleeping places like
feather-beds either. At night a very slight sprinkling of rain fell
for a minute or two.
May the 6th was the anniversary of the departure of the caravan from
Beltana in South Australia, whither we were now again endeavouring to
force our way by a new line. More hills, rough and wretched, were
travelled over to-day. In five miles we got to a new watercourse,
amongst the hills, which seemed inclined to go north-easterly, so we
followed it. It meandered about among the hills and through a pass,
but no water was seen, though we were anxiously looking for it at
every turn. Alec shot a wild turkey or bustard to-day. After going
thirteen or fourteen miles, and finding no water, I camped, and as we
had none for ourselves, I sent Alec Ross, Saleh, and Tommy into the
hills with the camels to a place about ten miles back, where I had
seen a small native well. They returned the following day, having
found a good-sized water-hole, and brought a supply to the camp. The
last two nights were cloudy, and I could get no observations for
latitude. While the camels were away I ascended a hill close by the
camp; the scene was indeed most extraordinary, bald and abrupt hills,
mounts, and ranges being thrown up in all directions; they resemble
the billows of a tempestuous ocean suddenly solidified into stone, or
as though a hundred thousand million Pelions had been upon as many
million Ossas hurled, and as though the falling masses, with
superincumbent weight, falling, flattened out the summits of the
mountains low but great.
Our creek, as well as I could determine, seemed to be joined by others
in its course north-easterly. I was surprised to find a creek running
in that direction, expecting rather to find the fall of the whole
region to the opposite point, as we are now in the midst of the
hill-country that forms the watershed, that sends so many rivers into
the sea on the west coast. The hills forming these watersheds are
almost uniformly composed of granite, and generally lie in almost
parallel lines, nearly east and west. They are mostly flat-topped, and
at various points present straight, rounded, precipitous, and
corrugated fronts, to the astonished eyes that first behold them. A
few small water-channels rise among them, and these, joining others of
a similar kind, gather strength and volume sufficient to form the
channels of larger watercourses, which eventually fall into some
other, dignified by the name of a river, and eventually discharge
themselves into the sea. Between the almost parallel lines of hills
are hollows or narrow valleys, which are usually as rough and stony as
the tops of the hills themselves; and being mostly filled with scrubs
and thickets, it is as dreadful a region for the traveller to gaze
upon as can well be imagined; it is impossible to describe it. There
is little or no permanent water in the whole region; a shower
occasionally falls here and there, and makes a small flood in one or
other of the numerous channels; but this seems to be all that the
natives of this part of the country have to depend upon. If there were
any large waters, we must come upon them by signs, or instinct, if not
by chance. The element of chance is not so great here as in hidden and
shrouded scrubs, for here we can ascend the highest ground, and any
leading feature must instantly be discovered. The leading features
here are not the high, but the low grounds, not the hills, but the
valleys, as in the lowest ground the largest watercourses must be
found. Hence we follow our present creek, as it must run into a larger
one. I know the Ashburton is before us, and not far off now; and as it
is the largest river? in Western Australia, it must occupy the largest
and lowest valley. The number of inhabitants of this region seems very
limited; we have met none, an occasional smoke in the distance being
the only indication of their existence. In the hot months of the year
this region must be vile in the extreme, and I consider myself most
fortunate in having the cool season before me to traverse it in. It is
stony, sterile, and hideous, and totally unsuited for the occupation
or habitation of the white man.