changed again to the south-east. I have named this creek the Stirling,
after the Honourable Edward Stirling, M.L.C. Followed it into the range
on the same course towards a bluff, where I think I shall find an easy
crossing. At one mile from the camp the hills commenced on the south-east
side of the creek, but on the north-west side they commenced three miles
further back. There was abundance of water in the creek for thirteen
miles; at ten miles there was another large branch with water coming from
the south-east. At fourteen miles ascended the bluff and obtained the
following bearings: South side of the creek, to a high part of the range
about two miles off (which I have named Mount Gwynne, after his Honour,
Justice Gwynne), 186 degrees. North side of the creek, to another hill
about two miles and a half off (which I have named Mount Mann, in memory
of the late Commissioner of Insolvency), 249 degrees. Central Mount
Stuart bears 131 degrees to the highest point. At the north-west
termination of the next range, to which I shall now go, there are two
very large hills, the north one, which is the highest, I have named Mount
Strzelecki, after Count Strzelecki, bearing 358 degrees. I have named the
high peak on the same range Mount Morphett, after the Honourable John
Morphett, M.L.C. The view from this bluff is extensive, except to the
west-north-west, which is hidden by this range just alluded to, which I
have named Forster Range, after the Honourable Anthony Forster, M.L.C.
From the south-west it has the appearance of a long continuous range,
but, on entering it, it is much broken into irregular and rugged hills:
on this side, the north-east, it consists of table-hills, with a number
of rugged isolated ones on the north side. To the north-west there is
another scrubby and gum-tree plain; to the north-north-west are some
isolated low ranges; to the north are grassy plains and low ranges; to
the east are several spurs from this range, which is composed of a very
hard dark-red stone, mixed with small round quartz and ironstone, and in
some places a hard flinty quartz. The range and hills are covered with
spinifex, but the valleys are beautifully grassed. We descended, and at
four miles struck a creek coming from the range, and running between two
low ranges towards the north-east. At seven miles changed my course to
north-east to camp in the creek, and endeavour to get water for the
horses before encountering the scrubby plains to-morrow morning. At five
miles came upon a low range, but no creek; it must have gone further to
the eastward. It being now quite dark, we camped under the ranges. Since
I changed my course I have come through a patch of mulga and other scrubs
with plenty of grass, but no watercourses. Wind south-east; heavy clouds
from the north-west; lightning in the south and west.
Thursday, 24th May, Range of Low Hills. This morning I feel very ill from
climbing the bluff yesterday; I had no sleep during the night, the pains
being so very violent. About 9 o'clock we had a heavy shower of rain, and
a little more during the night. Very late before the horses were found,
and the atmosphere very thick, with the prospect of rain for the rest of
the day. This and my being so ill have decided me to remain here until
to-morrow, there being sufficient rain water for the horses. A few more
light showers during the afternoon and evening. Wind still the same;
heavy clouds from the north-west.
Friday, 25th May, Range of Low Hills. I feel better this morning. The
clouds have all gone during the night, and it is now quite clear. Started
for Mount Strzelecki, passing through some very thick mulga scrub, with a
few gum-trees and plenty of grass. At twenty-one miles came upon a small
gum creek, where we gave the horses water, filled our own canteens, and
proceeded to the foot of the mount and camped. At a mile from its base
the spinifex begins again. Wind south-east. Very cold.
Saturday, 26th May, Mount Strzelecki. Ascended the mount, and built a
cone of stones. To the east are hills connected with this range, which I
have named Crawford Range, after ---- Crawford, Esquire, of Adelaide. To
the east-north-east is a large wooded undulating plain, with another
range in the extreme distance. To the north-east the distant range
continues with the same plain between. At a bearing of 55 degrees is a
large lagoon, in which there appears to be a little water. To the
north-north-east the plain appears to be rather more scrubby, and with a
few sand hills. To the north the point of the distant range is lost sight
of by some high scrubby land. To the west there are a few low hills, from
fifteen to twenty-five miles distant. This range is composed of a hard
flinty quartz, partly of a blue colour, with a little ironstone. We can
find no permanent water in this range, but, from the two or three native
tracks, quite fresh, which we have passed, I think there must be some
about. Descended, and proceeded round the range to the lagoon, the range
being too rough to cross. There is not enough water to be a drink for the
horses. Camped. Very heavy clouds from the north-west. The mount is about
four miles distant. At sundown there was a beautiful rain for an hour. It
is very strange, the clouds come from the north-west, and the wind from
the south-east. The rain seems to be coming against the wind.
Sunday, 27th May, Lagoon North-east of Mount Strzelecki. We had a few
heavy showers during the night, but it seems as if the rain would now
clear off. I hope not, for there is only about two inches of water in the
lagoon. I am again suffering much pain from the exertion it cost me to
climb Mount Strzelecki, and from assisting in building the cone of
stones; but if I did not put my hands to almost everything that is
required, I should never get on. My party is too small. It is killing
work.
Monday, 28th May, Lagoon North-east of Mount Strzelecki. We could not get
a start till 9.15, the horses having strayed to a distant bank for
shelter from the wind, which was piercingly cold. I had, in the first
instance, to go three miles north-north-west, in order to clear the low
stony range that runs on to the east side of the lagoon. I then changed
to 22 degrees to the far-distant range. For the first three miles our
course was through a very thick mulga scrub, with plenty of grass, and
occasionally a little spinifex; it then changed to a slightly undulating
country of a reddish soil, with gum and cork-trees, and numerous low
sandy plains, much resembling the gum and spinifex plains to the west,
where I was twice beaten back. It certainly is a desert country. Camped
without water on a little patch of grass. Distance to-day, twenty-eight
miles. Wind south-east. Very cold all day.
Tuesday, 29th May, Scrub, Spinifex and Gum-Trees. Started at 8 on the
same course for the range, which is still distant, through the same
description of country. At seven miles we came upon a plain of long
grass, which seems to have been flooded. It is about two miles broad.
Between this and the first hill of the range we passed four more of the
same description. Distance to the first hill, fourteen miles. In another
mile we struck a small creek; searched for water, but could find none,
although birds were numerous; thence through another mulga scrub, and
after crossing a number of rough stony hills, we arrived at the top of
the range, which I have named Davenport Range, after the Honourable
Samuel Davenport, M.L.C. It is composed of hard red sandstone, with
courses of quartz. I find this is not the range for which I am bound.
Although this one is high, the other is still higher, and, I should
think, is still forty or fifty miles distant. The day is thick, and I
cannot see distinctly. Between these ranges is a large plain, more open
than those we have come over. To the north the range appears to
terminate; to the west of north, in the far distance, just visible, are
two high hills, the northernmost of which is conical. To the east and
south-east is the plain and range; to the west, continuation of the same
plain that we have come over in the last two days' journey. Although we
had some heavy showers at the lagoon, we have not passed a single
water-course, except the one we crossed a few miles before we made this
range, nor did we see a drop of surface water: it seems to be all
absorbed the moment that it falls. Descended the north-north-east side of
the range, and at a mile and a half found some rain water in a creek,
coming from the range. Camped. Wind south-east. Distance, twenty miles.
Wednesday, 30th May, The Davenport Range. I find this water will not last
more than three days. I have determined to remain here to-day, and have
sent Kekwick in search of more water. As I am now a little better, I must
get my plan brought up. It has got in arrear, in consequence of my hands
being so bad with the scurvy. My limbs are much easier, yet the riding is
still very painful; my mouth also is much better, so that I am led to
hope that the disease will soon leave me. Native tracks about here, and
when I was on the top of the range I saw smoke in the scrub a few miles
to the north-west. Sundown: I am quite surprised that Kekwick has not
returned, as my instructions to him were not to go above five or six
miles, and then to return whether he found water or not. I am very much
afraid that something has happened to him.
Thursday, 31st May, The Davenport Range. Kekwick has not returned. I
begin to feel very uneasy about him. I must be off and follow up his
tracks. Sent Ben for the horses. He was a long time in finding them, as
is generally the case when one wants a thing in a hurry. 9.30: Kekwick
has arrived before the horses; he overshot his mark last night, and got
beyond the camp. I am very glad he is all safe. He informs me that he
came upon plenty of water a few miles from here, which compensates for
the anxiety he caused me during the night. His reason for not returning
as I had directed was that he crossed a gum creek which had so promising
an appearance, that he was induced to follow it to the plains, where he
found an abundance of water. While he was riding he was taken very ill,
and was unable to come on for some time, which made it so late that he
could not see to reach the camp. He is unable to proceed to-day, which is
vexing, for I wish to get on as quickly as possible.
Friday, 1st June, The Davenport Range. The horses having strayed, we did
not get a start till late. Our course was 22 degrees, and at two miles we
struck a small gum creek coming from the range and running
west-north-west. At three miles and a half we crossed a larger one coming
from, and running in, the same direction. Then commenced again the same
sort of country that we passed through the other day. At eight miles
struck a splendid large gum creek or river, having long and deep reaches
of water with fish four or five inches in length; it is running through
the plain as far as I can see, which is only a short distance, the ground
being low and level. Its course at this place is to the west-north-west;
it is very broad, and in some places the banks are perpendicular, and are
well grassed and covered with fine gum-trees, mulga and other bushes.
From bank to bank its width is about ten chains. This is the finest creek
for water that we have passed since leaving Chambers Creek. The day being
far advanced, I shall camp here, and get to the range to-morrow. I am
very much inclined to follow this creek and see where it empties itself;
but I expect to find a large one close to the range, or on the other
side. I wish also to get on the top to see what the country on ahead is
like. The fact of fish being in this creek leads me to think that it does
not empty itself into the gum plains, like others lately passed, but that
it must flow either into the sea on the north-west coast, or into a lake.
I have named it the Bonney Creek, after Charles Bonney, Esquire, late
Commissioner of Crown Lands for South Australia.
Saturday, 2nd June, The Bonney Creek. Started at 8.20 on the same course,
22 degrees, for the range, through a country of alternate spinifex and
grass with a little mulga scrub. At seven miles we struck another large
gum creek with every appearance of water, but I had no time to look for
it, being anxious to make the range to-night, and endeavour to find water
either on this side or on the other. The creek is large, and resembles
the last. I have named it the McLaren, after John McLaren, Esquire, late
Deputy Surveyor-General of South Australia. At seventeen miles, after
passing through a well-grassed country with a little scrub, we reached
the top of the first range, which is composed of a hard white
granite-looking rock, with courses of quartz running through it. I have
three or four spurs to cross yet before I make the main range. So far as
I can see, McLaren Creek is running much in the same direction as the
Bonney. Started from the top of the range and had a very difficult job in
crossing the spurs. About sundown arrived all safe on a gum flat, between
the ranges, and attempted to get upon what appears to be the highest
range, but getting up the horses deterred us. We then sought for water
among the numerous gum creeks which cover the plain, and at dark found
some, and camped. There is a good supply of water, but I do not think it
is permanent; it will last, however, for a month or six weeks. I have
named these ranges the Murchison, after Sir Roderick Murchison, President
of the Royal Geographical Society, London. Wind varying.
Sunday, 3rd June, Murchison Ranges. I feel very unwell this morning, from
the rough ride yesterday. It was my intention to have walked to the top
of the range to-day, but I am not able to do so. The small plain between
the ranges is a bed of soft white sandstone, through which the different
creeks have cut deep courses; the stones on the surface (igneous
principally), are composed of iron, quartz, dark black and blue stone,
also a bright red one, all run together and twisted into every sort of
nick, as also with the limestone, and many other sorts which I do not
know. This plain is covered with a most hard spinifex, very difficult to
get the horses to face. In another creek, about one mile south-west from
the camp, is a large water hole which will last six months; it is ten
yards long by twenty yards wide.
Monday, 4th June, Murchison Ranges. Started on a course of 330 degrees to
round this spur of the ranges, and at four miles and a half changed to 15
degrees to the high point of the range, and at three miles arrived on the
top. I have named it Mount Figg. The view from this is extensive. The
course of this range from the south to this point is 25 degrees; it then
makes a turn to the north-north-west, in which direction the country
appears more open, with some patches of thick scrub, and high ranges in
the distance. From north-west to west it appears to be gum plain, with
open patches of grass, and a number of creeks running into it from the
range. I shall change my course to a high peak on the north-west point of
the range, which bears from this 340 degrees 30 minutes. This range is
volcanic here, and is of the same formation as I have already given.
Started from the top of the mount at 12 o'clock. Went for eight miles
along the side of the range, and met with a small gum creek running on
our course; followed it up for three miles without finding water; it then
took a more westerly course, so I left it to pursue my route. After
leaving the mount, the range is composed of red sandstone with a little
quartz. We have occasionally met with a little limestone gravel. Camped
at 6 o'clock, without water.
Tuesday, 5th June, Gum-Tree Plain. Started on the same course at 7
o'clock for the high peak, through the same sort of country as yesterday.
No watercourse. At fifteen miles ascended the peak, which I have named
Mount Samuel, after my brother. The top is a mass of nearly pure
ironstone. It attracted the compass 160 degrees. From north to west are
broken ranges and isolated hills of a volcanic character, in all sorts of
shapes. The isolated hills seem to be the termination of these ranges,
which run nearly north and south. I have named them the McDouall Ranges,
after Colonel McDouall, of the 2nd Life Guards, Logan, Wigtownshire. I
then changed my course to the north-north-east in search of water, there
being no appearance of any to the north-north-west. After travelling five
miles over small grassy, scrubby plains, between isolated hills and
gum-trees, I could not find a water-course, so I changed to the east, to
try if I could see anything from a high hill, which I ascended, and
discovered a gum creek coming from the range on the east side. Followed
it down, and, one mile and a half from the top, found a splendid hole of
water in the rock, very deep, and permanent. The creek is very rocky, and
its course here is north-east into the plain. Wind south-east. Clouds
from the north-west.
Wednesday, 6th June, Gum Creek, North-east Side of the McDouall Ranges.
There being nothing but spinifex on the ranges and creeks, the horses had
been travelling nearly all night in search of food, and had gone a long
way before they were overtaken. This morning saddled and got a start by
11 o'clock on a course of 340 degrees, crossing numerous creeks and stout
spinifex, through which we had great difficulty in driving the horses. At
five miles struck a gum creek in which we found water. The banks have
excellent feed upon them, and in abundance, so, for the sake of the
horses, I have determined to remain here to-day. This creek, which I have
named Tennant Creek, after John Tennant, Esquire, of Port Lincoln, runs
east. In searching for the horses this morning Ben found three or four
more large water holes in the adjoining creek, a little south-east from
this. Before we reached this, we crossed some marks very much resembling
old horse-tracks.
Thursday, 7th June, Tennant Creek, McDouall Ranges. Started at 7.20.
Course, 340 degrees. At three miles passed through an immense number of
huge granite rocks piled together and scattered about in every direction,
with a few small water-courses running amongst them to the eastward. We
then encountered a rather thick scrub, and occasionally crossed a few low
quartz rises coming from the McDouall ranges. At fourteen miles ascended
the highest of them, which I have named Mount Woodcock, after the
Venerable the Archdeacon of Adelaide. To the north-west and north is
another range, about ten miles distant, which seems to continue a long
way. I will change my course to 315 degrees, which will take me to the
highest point. At two miles on this course came upon a gum creek running
to the north-east, which I named Bishop Creek; followed it for one mile
and a half, and found water, which will last a month or six weeks, and an
immense number of birds. This is a camping-place of the natives, who seem
to have been here very lately. We watered the horses and proceeded
towards the range. At about two miles passed a low rugged ironstone
range, peculiar in having a large square mass of ironstone standing by
itself about the centre. I have named it Mount Sinclair, after James
Sinclair, of Port Lincoln. Passed through a thick scrub, among which we
saw a very handsome bush that was new to us, having a blue-green leaf ten
inches long by six inches broad. We looked for some seed, but could not
find any. At five miles crossed a grassy gum plain, where a creek empties
itself. The same scrub continues to the range, which we reached at twelve
miles from the water. It is not very high, but rough and steep, and we
had great difficulty in getting to the top, but after many twistings and
turnings and scramblings, we arrived there all right, and found it to be
table land. At fourteen miles camped without water. The range is composed
of ironstone, granite, quartz and red sandstone, running north of west
and south of east. I have named it Short Range, after the Right Reverend
the Lord Bishop of Adelaide.
Friday, 8th June, Short Range. Started at 8 o'clock on the same course,
315 degrees, to some very distant rising grounds. Short range seems to
run nearly parallel to our course, as also does another distant range to
the north, which I have named Sturt Range, after Captain Sturt. The table
land continued about two miles, and then there was a gradual descent to
the plains, and we entered a thick scrub with spinifex and gums. At
eighteen miles came upon a beautiful plain of grass, having large
gum-trees, and a new description of tree, the foliage of which is a
dark-green and rather round, and the bark rough and of a dark colour.
Here also was the cork-tree, and numerous other shrubs. This grassy plain
continued for thirty-one miles, until we camped, but the last part is not
so good. When I struck this plain, I was in great hopes of finding a
large creek of water, but have been disappointed; we have not crossed a
single water-course in thirty-one miles. Camped at sundown. No water.
Wind south-east.
Saturday, 9th June, Grassy Plain. There is some rising ground a few miles
further on, to which I shall go in search of a creek; I might be able to
see something from it. If I do not find water I shall have to retreat to
Bishop Creek, as the horses have now been two nights without water.
Started at 7 o'clock, same course, 315 degrees, through scrub and a light
sandy soil. At four miles got to the rise, which is a scrubby sand-hill.
From this I can see nothing, the scrub being so thick; it is of a nasty,
tough, wiry description, and has torn our hands and saddle-bags to
pieces. I got up a tree to look over the top of this scrub, which is
about twelve feet high, and I could see our course for a long distance;
it appears to be the same terrible scrub, with no sign of any creeks. It
is very vexing to get thus far, and have to turn back, when perhaps
another day's journey would bring me to a better country. I shall now try
a south course, and cut the grassy plains to the westward, in the hope of
finding water; if so, I shall be able to make two days' journey to the
north-west. Started on a south course for fourteen miles, through scrub
and small grassy plains alternately, but we could find neither creek nor
water. I now regret that I attempted the south course, which makes the
distance from the water so much greater. Wind still south-east; heavy
clouds coming from the north-west, I trust it will rain before morning.
Sunday, 10th June, Grassy Plains. Started at sunrise, and at two miles
again got into the scrub. Three of the horses we can scarcely get along;
they are very much done up. At 11 o'clock, one horse gave in altogether.
We cannot get him up; we have tried everything in our power to do
something for him. The other horses have been carrying his load, and he
has had nothing to carry for this last hour and a half; all our efforts
are in vain, and I am obliged, although with great reluctance, to leave
him to his fate. Had this occurred nearer the water, I should have put an
end to his existence and taken part of him to eat, for we are now very
short of provisions, and the other horses have quite enough to carry
without sharing his load; I wish I had left him sooner. At 12 o'clock, I
find I shall lose some more of them, if they do not get water to-night,
and it will be to-morrow before I can reach Bishop Creek. I shall now go
to Short range and try to find some. The little bay mare Polly has become
nearly mad, running about among the other horses, and kicking them as she
passes; even the men do not escape from her heels. At five miles made the
range. There are no large creeks coming from this side--nothing but small
ones which empty themselves into the plain; sand up to the foot of the
hills. Before we reach the range another of the horses is done up; he has
only been carrying about 30 pounds in consequence of his back having been
bad for the last three weeks. We lightened all the weak horses two days
since. We shall now try if he will go without anything on his back. We
are now amongst the granite ridges, and hope we shall find water on this
side. The horse has given in before we can get to the other side. We must
leave him for the sake of the others. Too much time has already been lost
in endeavouring to get them on. Reached the other side and searched the
different creeks, but cannot find any water. Crossed a spur of the range
running south, and can see a nice-looking creek with gum-trees. Our hopes
and spirits are again revived; the sight of it has even invigorated the
horses, and they are hurrying on towards it. Traversed it down, but, to
our great disappointment, find that it loses itself in a grassy plain. It
is now dark, so I must remain here for the night. The sky is quite
overcast, and I trust that Providence will send us rain before morning.
An accident has happened to the water we were carrying; it was all lost
yesterday. If it clears during the night, so that I can see the stars to
guide me, I shall move on.