CAMPING UP--MELBOURNE TO THE BLACK FOREST
The anxiously-expected morning at length commenced, and a
dismal-looking morning it was--hazy and damp, with a small drizzling
rain, which, from the gloomy aspect above, seemed likely to last. It
was not, however, sufficient to damp our spirits, and the appointed
hour found us all assembled to attack the last meal that we anticipated
to make for some time to come beneath the shelter of a ceiling. At
eight o'clock our united party was to start from the "Duke of York"
hotel, and as that hour drew nigh, the unmistakeable signs of
"something up," attracted a few idlers to witness our departure. In
truth, we were a goodly party, and created no little sensation among
the loungers--but I must regularly introduce our troop to my readers.
First then, I must mention two large drays, each drawn by a pair of
stout horses--one the property of two Germans, who were bound for
Forest Creek, the other belonged to ourselves and shipmates. There were
three pack-horses--one (laden with a speculation in bran) belonged to
a queer-looking sailor, who went by the name of Joe, the other two were
under the care of a man named Gregory, who was going to rejoin his
mates at Eagle Hawk Gully. As his destination was the farthest, and he
was well acquainted with the roads, he ought to have been elected
leader, but from some mis-management that dignity was conferred upon a
stout old gentleman, who had taken a pleasure-trip to Mount Alexander,
the previous summer.
Starting is almost always a tedious affair, nor was this particular
case an exception. First one had forgotten something--another broke a
strap, and a new one had to be procured--then the dray was not
properly packed, and must be righted--some one else wanted an
extra "nobbler"--then a fresh, and still a fresh delay, so that
although eight was the appointed hour, it was noon ere we bade farewell
to mine host of the "Duke of York."
At length the word of command was spoken. Foremost came the gallant
captain (as we had dubbed him), and with him two ship doctors, in
partnership together, who carried the signs of their profession along
with them in the shape of a most surgeon-like mahogany box. Then came
the two Germans, complacently smoking their meerschaums, and attending
to their dray and horses, which latter, unlike their masters, were of a
very restless turn of mind. After these came a party of six, among whom
was Gregory and two lively Frenchmen, who kept up an incessant
chattering. Joe walked by himself, leading his pack-horse, then came
our four shipmates, two by two, and last, our own particular five.
Most carried on their backs their individual property--blankets,
provisions for the road, &c., rolled in a skin, and fastened over the
shoulders by leathern straps. This bundle goes by the name of "swag,"
and is the digger's usual accompaniment--it being too great a
luxury to place upon a dray or pack-horse anything not absolutely
necessary. This will be easily understood when it is known that
carriers, during the winter, obtained 120 pounds and sometimes 150 pounds
a ton for conveying goods to Bendigo (about one hundred miles from
Melbourne). Nor was the sum exorbitant, as besides the chance of a few
weeks' stick in the mud, they run great risk of injuring their horses or
bullocks; many a valuable beast has been obliged to be shot where it
stood, it being found impossible to extricate it from the mud and swamp.
At the time we started, the sum generally demanded was about 70 pounds per
ton. On the price of carriage up, depended of course the price of
provisions at the diggings.
The weight of one of these "swags" is far from light; the provender for
the road is itself by no means trifling, though that of course
diminishes by the way, and lightens the load a little. Still there are
the blankets, fire-arms, drinking and eating apparatus, clothing,
chamois-leather for the gold that has yet to be dug, and numberless
other cumbersome articles necessary for the digger. In every
belt was stuck either a large knife or a tomahawk; two shouldered their
guns (by the bye, rather imprudent, as the sight of fire-arms often
brings down an attack); some had thick sticks, fit to fell a bullock;
altogether, we seemed well prepared to encounter an entire army of
bushrangers. I felt tolerably comfortable perched upon our dray, amid a
mass of other soft lumber; a bag of flour formed an easy support to
lean against; on either side I was well walled in by the canvas and
poles of our tent; a large cheese made a convenient footstool. My
attire, although well suited for the business on hand, would hardly
have passed muster in any other situation. A dress of common dark blue
serge, a felt wide-awake, and a waterproof coat wrapped round me, made
a ludicrous assortment.
Going along at a foot-pace we descended Great Bourke Street, and made
our first halt opposite the Post-office, where one of our party made a
last effort to obtain a letter from his lady-love, which was, alas!
unsuccessful. But we move on again--pass the Horse Bazaar--turn into
Queen Street--up we go towards Flemington, leaving the Melbourne
cemetery on our right, and the flag-staff a little to the left; and
now our journey may be considered fairly begun.
Just out of Melbourne, passing to the east of the Benevolent Asylum, we
went over a little rise called Mount Pleasant, which, on a damp sort of
a day, with the rain beating around one, seemed certainly a misnomer.
After about two miles, we came to a branch-road leading to Pentridge,
where the Government convict establishment is situated. This we left on
our right, and through a line of country thickly wooded (consisting of
red and white gum, stringy bark, cherry and other trees), we arrived at
Flemington, which is about three miles and a half from town.
Flemington is a neat little village or town-ship, consisting of about
forty houses, a blacksmith's shop, several stores, and a good inn,
built of brick and stone, with very fair accommodation for travellers,
and a large stable and stock-yards.
After leaving Flemington, we passed several nice-looking homesteads;
some are on a very large scale, and belong to gentlemen connected
with Melbourne, who prefer "living out of town." On reaching the
top of the hill beyond Flemington there is a fine view of Melbourne,
the bay, William's Town, and the surrounding country, but the miserable
weather prevented us at this time from properly enjoying it. Sunshine
was all we needed to have made this portion of our travels truly
delightful.
The road was nicely level, fine trees sheltered it on either side,
whilst ever and anon some rustic farm-house was passed, or coffee-shop,
temporarily erected of canvas or blankets, offered refreshment (such as
it was), and the latest news of the diggings to those who had no
objection to pay well for what they had. This Flemington road (which is
considered the most Pleasant in Victoria, or at least anywhere near
Melbourne) is very good as far as Tulip Wright's, which we now
approached.
Wright's public-house is kept by the man whose name it bears; it is a
rambling ill-built, but withal pleasing-looking edifice, built chiefly
of weather-board and shingle, with a verandah all round. The whole is
painted white, and whilst at some distance from it a passing ray
of sunshine gave it a most peculiar effect. In front of the principal
entrance is a thundering large lamp, a most conspicuous looking object.
Wright himself was formerly in the police, and being a sharp fellow,
obtained the cognomen of "Tulip," by which both he and his house have
always been known; and so inseparable have the names become, that,
whilst "Tulip Wright's" is renowned well-nigh all over the colonies,
the simple name of the owner would create some inquiries. The state of
accommodation here may be gathered from the success of some of the
party who had a PENCHANT for "nobblers" of brandy. "Nothing but bottled
beer in the house." "What could we have for dinner?" inquired one,
rather amused at this Hobson's choice state of affairs. "The eatables
was only cold meat; and they couldn't cook nothink fresh," was the curt
reply. "Can we sleep here?" "Yes--under your drays." As we literally
determined to "camp out" on the journey, we passed on, without
partaking of their "cold eatables," or availing ourselves of their
permission to sleep under our own drays, and, leaving the road
to Sydney on our right, and the one to Keilor straight before us, we
turned short off to the left towards the Deep Creek.
Of the two rejected routes I will give a very brief account.
The right-hand road leads to Sydney, VIA Kilmore, and many going to the
diggings prefer using this road as far as that township. The country
about here is very flat, stony and destitute of timber; occasionally
the journey is varied by a water-hole or surface-spring. After several
miles, a public-house called the "Lady of the Lake" is reached, which
is reckoned by many the best country inn on this or any other road in
the colonies. The accommodation is excellent, and the rooms well
arranged, and independent of the house. There are ten or twelve rooms
which, on a push, could accommodate fifty or sixty people; six are
arranged in pairs for the convenience of married persons, and the
fashionable trip during the honey-moon (particularly for diggers'
weddings) is to the "Lady of the Lake." Whether Sir Walter's poem be
the origin of the sign, or whether the swamps in the rear, I cannot
say, but decidedly there is no lake and no lady, though I have
heard of a buxom lass, the landlord's daughter, who acts as barmaid,
and is a great favourite. This spot was the scene last May of a
horrible murder, which has added no little to the notoriety of the
neighbourhood.
After several miles you at length arrive at Kilmore, which is a large
and thriving township, containing two places of worship, several stores
and inns. There is a resident magistrate with his staff of officials,
and a station for a detachment of mounted police. Kilmore is on the
main overland road from Melbourne to Sydney, and, although not on the
confines of the two colonies, is rather an important place, from being
the last main township until you reach the interior of New South Wales.
The Government buildings are commodious and well arranged. There are
several farms and stations in the neighbourhood, but the country round
is flat and swampy.
The middle road leads you direct to Keilor, and you must cross the Deep
Creek in a dangerous part, as the banks thereabouts are very steep, the
stream (though narrow) very rapid, and the bottom stony. In 1851, the
bridge (an ordinary log one) was washed down by the floods, and
for two months all communication was cut off. Government have now put a
punt, which is worked backwards and forwards every half-hour from six
in the morning till six at night, at certain fares, which are doubled
after these hours. These fares are: for a passenger, 6d.; a horse or
bullock, 1s.; a two-wheeled vehicle, 1s. 6d.; a loaded dray, 2s. The
punt is tolerably well managed, except when the man gets intoxicated--not
an unfrequent occurrence. When there was neither bridge nor punt,
those who wished to cross were obliged to ford it; and so strong has
been the current, that horses have been carried down one or two hundred
yards before they could effect a landing. Keilor is a pretty little
village with a good inn, several nice cottages, and a store or two. The
country round is hilly and barren--scarcely any herbage and that
little is rank and coarse; the timber is very scarce. This road to the
diggings is not much used.
But to return to ourselves. The rain and bad roads made travelling so
very wearisome, that before we had proceeded far it was unanimously
agreed that we should halt and pitch our first encampment.
"Pitch our first encampment! how charming!" exclaims some romantic
reader, as though it were an easily accomplished undertaking. Fixing a
gipsy-tent at a FETE CHAMPETRE, with a smiling sky above, and all
requisites ready to hand, is one thing, and attempting to sink poles
and erect tents out of blankets and rugs in a high wind and pelting
rain, is (if I may be allowed the colonialism) "a horse of quite
another colour." Some sort of sheltering-places were at length
completed; the horses were taken from the dray and tethered to some
trees within sight, and then we made preparations for satisfying the
unromantic cravings of hunger--symptoms of which we all, more or less,
began to feel. With some difficulty a fire was kindled and kept alight
in the hollow trunk of an old gum tree. A damper was speedily made,
which, with a plentiful supply of steaks and boiled and roasted eggs,
was a supper by no means to be despised. The eggs had been procured at
four shillings a dozen from a farm-house we had passed.
It was certainly the most curious tea-table at which I had ever
assisted. Chairs, of course, there were none, we sat or lounged
upon the ground as best suited our tired limbs; tin pannicans (holding
about a pint) served as tea-cups, and plates of the same metal in lieu
of china; a teapot was dispensed with; but a portly substitute was
there in the shape of an immense iron kettle, just taken from the fire
and placed in the centre of our grand tea-service, which being new, a
lively imagination might mistake for silver. Hot spirits, for those
desirous of imbibing them, followed our substantial repast; but fatigue
and the dreary weather had so completely damped all disposition to
conviviality, that a very short space of time found all fast asleep
except the three unfortunates on the watch, which was relieved every
two hours.
WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 8.--I awoke rather early this morning, not
feeling over-comfortable from having slept in my clothes all night,
which it is necessary to do on the journey, so as never to be
unprepared for any emergency. A small corner of my brother's tent had
been partitioned off for my BED-ROOM; it was quite dark, so my first
act on waking was to push aside one of the blankets, still wet,
which had been my roof during the night, and thus admit air and light
into my apartments. Having made my toilette--after a fashion--I
joined my companions on the watch, who were deep in the mysteries of
preparing something eatable for breakfast. I discovered that their
efforts were concentrated on the formation of a damper, which seemed to
give them no little difficulty. A damper is the legitimate, and, in
fact, only bread of the bush, and should be made solely of flour and
water, well mixed and kneaded into a cake, as large as you like, but
not more than two inches in thickness, and then placed among the hot
ashes to bake. If well-made, it is very sweet and a good substitute for
bread. The rain had, however, spoiled our ashes, the dough would
neither rise nor brown, so in despair we mixed a fresh batch of flour
and water, and having fried some rashers of fat bacon till they were
nearly melted, we poured the batter into the pan and let it fry till
done. This impromptu dish gave general satisfaction and was pronounced
a cross between a pancake and a heavy suet pudding.
Breakfast over, our temporary residences were pulled down, the
drays loaded, and our journey recommenced.
We soon reached the Deep Creek, and crossed by means of a punt, the
charges being the same as the one at Keilor. Near here is a station
belonging to Mr. Ryleigh, which is a happy specimen of a squatter's
home--everything being managed in a superior manner. The house itself
is erected on a rise and surrounded by an extensive garden, vinery and
orchard, all well stocked and kept; some beautifully enclosed paddocks
reach to the Creek, and give an English park-like appearance to the
whole. The view from here over the bay and Brighton is splendid; you
can almost distinguish Geelong. About a quarter of a mile off is a
little hamlet with a neat Swiss-looking church, built over a
school-room on a rise of ground; it has a most peculiar effect, and is
the more singular as the economizing the ground could not be a
consideration in the colony; on the left of the church is a pretty
little parsonage, whitewashed, with slate roof and green-painted
window-frames.
I still fancy, though our redoubtable captain most strenuously
denied it, that we had in some manner gone out of our way; however that
may be, the roads seemed worse and worse as we proceeded, and our pace
became more tedious as here and there it was up-hill work till at
length we reached the Keilor plains. It was almost disheartening to
look upon that vast expanse of flat and dreary land except where the
eye lingered on the purple sides of Mount Macedon, which rose far
distant in front of us. On entering the plains we passed two or three
little farm-houses, coffee-shops, &c., and encountered several parties
coming home for a trip to Melbourne. For ten miles we travelled on
dismally enough, for it rained a great deal, and we were constantly
obliged to halt to get the horses rested a little. We now passed a
coffee-shop, which although only consisting of a canvas tent and little
wooden shed, has been known to accommodate above forty people of a
night. As there are always plenty of bad characters lounging in the
neighbourhood of such places, we kept at a respectful distance, and did
not make our final halt till full two miles farther on our road. Tents
were again pitched, but owing to their not being fastened over
securely, many of us got an unwished-for shower-bath during the
night; but this is nothing--at the antipodes one soon learns to laugh
at such trifles.
THURSDAY, 9.--This morning we were up betimes, some of our party being
so sanguine as to anticipate making the "Bush Inn" before evening. As
we proceeded, this hope quickly faded away. The Keilor plains seemed
almost impassable, and what with pieces of rock here, and a water-hole
there, crossing them was more dangerous than agreeable. Now one passed
a broken-down dray; then one's ears were horrified at the oaths an
unhappy wight was venting at a mud-hole into which he had stumbled. A
comical object he looked, as, half-seas-over, he attempted to pull on a
mud-covered boot, which he had just extricated from the hole where it
and his leg had parted company. A piece of wood, which his imagination
transformed into a shoe-horn, was in his hand. "Put it into the
larboard side," (suiting the action to the word), "there it goes--damn
her, she won't come on! Put it into the starboard side there it
goes--well done, old girl," and he triumphantly rose from the ground,
and reeled away.
With a hearty laugh, we proceeded on our road, and after passing
two or three coffee-tents, we arrived at Gregory's Inn. The landlord is
considered the best on the road, and is a practical example of what
honesty and industry may achieve. He commenced some nine months before
without a shilling--his tarpaulin tent and small stock of tea, sugar,
coffee, &c., being a loan. He has now a large weather-board house,
capable of making up one hundred beds, and even then unable to
accommodate all his visitors, so numerous are they, from the good name
he bears. Here we got a capital cold dinner of meat, bread, cheese,
coffee, tea, &c., for three shillings a-piece, and, somewhat refreshed,
went forwards in better spirits, though the accounts we heard there of
the bad roads in the Black Forest would have disheartened many.
Mount Macedon now formed quite a beautiful object on our right: a
little below that mountain appeared a smaller one, called the Bald
Hill, from its peak being quite barren, and the soil of a white
limestone and quartzy nature, which gives it a most peculiar and
splendid appearance when the sun's rays are shining upon it. As
we advanced, the thickly-wooded sides of Mount Macedon became more
distinct, and our proximity to a part of the country which we knew to
be auriferous, exercised an unaccountable yet pleasureable influence
over our spirits, which was perhaps increased by the loveliness of the
spot where we now pitched our tents for the evening. It was at the foot
of the Gap. The stately gum-tree, the shea-oak, with its gracefully
drooping foliage, the perfumed yellow blossom of the mimosa, the
richly-wooded mountain in the background, united to form a picture too
magnificent to describe. The ground was carpeted with wild flowers; the
sarsaparilla blossoms creeping everywhere; before us slowly rippled a
clear streamlet, reflecting a thousand times the deepening tints which
the last rays of the setting sun flung over the surrounding scenery;
the air rang with the cawing of the numerous cockatoos and parrots of
all hues and colours who made the woods resound with their tones,
whilst their restless movements and gay plumage gave life and piquancy
to the scene.
This night our beds were composed of the mimosa, which has a perfume
like the hawthorn. The softest-looking branches were selected,
cut down, and flung upon the ground beneath the tents, and formed a bed
which, to my wearied limbs, appeared the softest and most luxuriant
upon which I had slept since my arrival in the colonies.
FRIDAY, 10.--With some reluctance I aroused myself from a very heavy
slumber produced by the over fatigue of the preceding day. I found
every one preparing to start; kindly considerate, my companions thought
a good sleep more refreshing for me than breakfast, and had deferred
awakening me till quite obliged, so taking a few sailors' biscuits in
my pocket to munch on the way, I bade farewell to a spot whose natural
beauties I have never seen surpassed.
Proceeding onwards, we skirted the Bald Hill, and entering rather a
scrubby tract, crossed a creek more awkward for our drays than
dangerous to ourselves; we then passed two or three little
coffee-shops, which being tents are always shifting their quarters,
crossed another plain, very stony and in places swampy, which
terminated in a thickly-wooded tract of gum and wattle trees. Into this
wood we now entered. After about five miles uncomfortable
travelling we reached the "Bush Inn."
I must here observe that no DISTINCT road is ever cut out, but the
whole country is cut up into innumerable tracks by the carts and drays,
and which are awfully bewildering to the new-comer as they run here and
there, now crossing a swamp, now a rocky place, here a creek, there a
hillock, and yet, in many cases, all leading BONA FIDE to the same
place.
The "Bush Inn" (the genuine one, for there are two) consists of a
large, well-built, brick and weather-board house, with bed-rooms for
private families. There is a detached weather-board, and stone kitchen,
and tap-room, with sleeping-lofts above, a large yard with sheds and
good stabling. A portion of the house and stables is always engaged for
the use of the escort. About two hundred yards off is the "New Bush
Inn," somewhat similar to the other, not quite so large, with an
attempt at a garden. The charges at these houses are enormous. Five and
six shillings per meal, seven-and-sixpence for a bottle of ale, and one
shilling for half a glass or "nobbler" of brandy. About half a
mile distant is a large station belonging to Mr. Watson; the houses,
huts and yards are very prettily laid out, and, in a few years he will
have the finest vineyard in the neighbourhood. Two miles to the east is
the residence of Mr. Poullett, Commissioner of Crown Lands, which is
very pleasantly situated on the banks of an ever-running stream. The
paddock, which is a large one (10 square miles, or 6400 acres), is well
wooded. Some new police barracks and stabling yards are in the course
of erection.
We did not linger in the "Bush Inn," but pursued our way over a marshy
flat, crossed a dangerous creek, and having ascended a steep and
thickly wooded hill on the skirts of the Black Forest, we halted and
pitched our tents. It was little more than mid-day, but the road had
been fearful--as bad as wading through a mire; men and beasts were
worn out, and it was thought advisable to recruit well before entering
the dreaded precincts of the Black Forest. Fires were lit, supper was
cooked, spirits and pipes made their appearance, songs were sung, and a
few of the awful exploits of Black Douglas and his followers were
related. Later in the evening, an opossum was shot by one of us.
Its skin was very soft, with rich, brown hair.
SATURDAY, 11--A dismal wet day--we remained stationary, as many of
our party were still foot-sore, and all were glad of a rest. Some went
out shooting, but returned with only a few parrots and cockatoos, which
they roasted, and pronounced nice eating. Towards evening, a party of
four, returning from the diggings, encamped at a little distance from
us. Some of our loiterers made their acquaintance. They had passed the
previous night in the Black Forest, having wandered out of their way.
To add to their misfortunes, they had been attacked by three well-armed
bushrangers, whom they had compelled to desist from their attempt, not,
however, before two of the poor men had been wounded, one rather
severely. Hardly had they recovered this shock, than they were
horrified by the sudden discovery in a sequestered spot of some human
bones, strewn upon the ground beside a broken-down cart. Whether
accident or design had brought these unfortunates to an untimely end,
none know; but this ominous appearance seemed to have terrified
them even more than the bushrangers themselves. These accounts sobered
our party not a little, and it was deemed advisable to double the watch
that night.