Australia Twice Traversed Part 3

(ILl.u.s.tRATION: 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 lat.i.tude. "But there's a wonderful power in lat.i.tude, it alters a man's moral relations and att.i.tude." 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. Pa.s.sing 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 impa.s.sable 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 compa.s.s 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 ma.s.sive 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 gla.s.ses 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 pa.s.sed 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 compa.s.s, so that nearly three miles had to be travelled to make good one. Clumps of the beautiful palms were occasionally pa.s.sed, 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 pa.s.sed 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 quant.i.ty 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), cuc.u.mbers, melons, culinary vegetables, white maize, prairie gra.s.s, 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 lat.i.tude. 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 pa.s.s 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 gra.s.s 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 gra.s.s 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 lat.i.tude 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 ma.s.ses 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 ma.s.s 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 pa.s.ses, and it appears to be the only pa.s.s 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 pa.s.sed 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 ma.s.s, 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 pa.s.sage of water, so that it presented the appearance of an enormous tessellated pavement, before which the celebrated Roman one at Bognor, in Suss.e.x, 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 quant.i.ty 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 pa.s.sed 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 c.o.c.ky, 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.

CHAPTER 1.3. FROM 6TH TO 17TH SEPTEMBER, 1872.

Progress stopped.

Fall back on a tributary.

River flooded.

A new range.

Rudall's Creek.

Reach the range.

Gra.s.s-trees.

Wild beauty of scene.

Scarcity of water.

A pea-like vetch.

Name the range.

A barren spot.

Water seen from it.

Follow a creek channel.

Other creeks join it.

A confined glen.

Scrubby and stony hills.

Strike a gum creek.

Slimy water.

A pretty tree.

Flies troublesome.

Emus.

An orange tree.

Tropic of Capricorn.

Melodious sounds.

Carmichael's Creek.

Mountains to the north.

Ponds of water.

A green plain.

Clay-pan water.

Fine herbage.

Kangaroos and emus numerous.

A new tree.

Agreeable encampment.

Peculiar mountains.

High peak.

Start to ascend it.

Game plentiful.

Racecourse plain.

Surrounded by scrubs.

A bare slope.

A yawning chasm.

Appearance of the peak.

Gleaming pools.

Cypress pines.

The tropic clime of youth.

Proceed westwards.

Thick scrubs.

Native method of procuring water.

A pine-clad hill.

A watercourse to the south.

A poor supply of water.

Skywards the only view.

Horses all gone.

Increasing temperature.

Attempt ascending high bluff.

Timberless mountains.

Beautiful flowers.

Sultry night.

Wretched encampment.

Depart from it.

I had come to the decision, as it was impossible to follow the Finke through the gorge in consequence of the flood, and as the hills were equally impracticable, to fall back upon the tributary I had noticed the day before yesterday as joining the river from the west, thinking I might in twenty or thirty miles find a gap in the northern range that would enable me to reach the Finke again. The night was very cold, the thermometer at daylight stood at 28 degrees. The river had risen still higher in the night, and it was impossible to pa.s.s through the gorge. We now turned west-south-west, in order to strike the tributary. Pa.s.sing first over rough stony ridges, covered with porcupine gra.s.s, we entered a sandy, thickly-bushed country, and struck the creek in ten miles. A new range lying west I expected to be the source of it, but it now seemed to turn too much to the south.

There was very poor gra.s.s, it being old and dry, but as the new range to the west was too distant, we encamped, as there was water. This watercourse was called Rudall's Creek. A cold and very dewy night made all our packs, blankets, etc., wet and clammy; the mercury fell below freezing point, but instantly upon the sun's appearance it went up enormously. The horses rambled, and it was late when we reached the western range, as our road was beset by some miles of dense scrubs.

The range was isolated, and of some elevation. As we pa.s.sed along the creek, the slight flood became slighter still; it had now nearly ceased running. The day was one of the warmest we had yet experienced.

The creek now seemed not to come from the range, but, thinking water might be got there so soon after rains, we travelled up to its foot.

The country was sandy, and bedecked with triodia, but near the range I saw for the first time on this expedition a quant.i.ty of the Australian gra.s.s-tree (Xanthorrhoea) dotting the landscape. They were of all heights, from two to twenty feet. The country round the base of this range is not devoid of a certain kind of wild beauty. A few blood-wood or red gum-trees, with their brilliant green foliage, enlivened the scene.

A small creek, lined with gum-trees, issued from an opening or glen, up which I rode in search of water, but was perfectly unsuccessful, as not a drop of the life-sustaining fluid was to be found. Upon returning to impart this discouraging intelligence to my companions, I stumbled upon a small quant.i.ty in a depression, on a broad, almost square boulder of rock that lay in the bed of the creek. There was not more than two quarts. As the horses had watered in the afternoon, and as there was a quant.i.ty of a herb, much like a green vetch or small pea, we encamped. I ascended a small eminence to the north, and with the gla.s.ses could distinguish the creek last left, now running east and west. I saw water gleaming in its channel, and at the junction of the little creek we were now on; there was also water nearly east. As the horses were feeding down the creek that way, I felt sure they would go there and drink in the night. It is, however, very strange whenever one wants horses to do a certain thing or feed a certain way, they are almost sure to do just the opposite, and so it was in the present case. On returning to camp by a circuitous route, I found in a small rocky crevice an additional supply of water, sufficient for our own requirements--there was nearly a bucketful--and felicity reigned in the camp. A few cypress pines are rooted in the rocky shelving sides of the range, which is not of such elevation as it appeared from a distance. The highest points are not more than from 700 to 800 feet.

I collected some specimens of plants, which, however, are not peculiar to this range. I named it Gosse's range, after Mr. Harry Gosse. The late rains had not visited this isolated ma.s.s. It is barren and covered with spinifex from turret to bas.e.m.e.nt, wherever sufficient soil can be found among the stones to admit of its growth.

The night of the 9th of September, like the preceding, was cold and dewy. The horses wandered quite in the wrong direction, and it was eleven o'clock before we got away from the camp and went north to the sheet of water seen yesterday, where we watered the horses and followed up the creek, as its course here appeared to be from the west. The country was level, open, and sandy, but covered with the widely pervading triodia (irritans). Some more Xanthorrhoea were seen, and several small creeks joined this from the ranges to the north.

Small sheets of water were seen in the creek as we pa.s.sed along, but whether they existed before the late rains is very problematical. The weather is evidently getting warmer. We had been following this creek for two days; it now turned up into a confined glen in a more northerly direction. At last its northern course was so p.r.o.nounced we had to leave it, as it evidently took its rise amongst the low hills in that direction, which shut out any view of the higher ranges behind them. Our road was now about west-north-west, over wretched, stony, barren, mallee (Eucalyptus) covered low hills or stony rises; the mallee scrub being so thick, it was difficult to drive the horses through it. Farther on we crested the highest ground the horses had yet pa.s.sed over. From here with the gla.s.ses I fancied I saw the timber of a creek in a valley to the north-west, in which direction we now went, and struck the channel of a small dry watercourse, whose banks were lined with gum-trees. When there is any water in its channel, its flow is to the west. The creek joined another, in which, after following it for a mile or two, I found a small pool of water, which had evidently lain there for many months, as it was half slime, and drying up fast. It was evident the late rains had not fallen here.