Camp 40. We have been here now since the afternoon of Thursday last the 17th, and high time it is that we make some progress. Wind south-east; cold dewless nights; the meat has dried after a fashion but not sufficient for keeping any length of time without further exposure to sun and air—which we must do as soon as we get to camp for several days. Kirby has now quite recovered and we start on a bearing of 345 degrees. I call this small creek Black-eyes Creek—after the bullock we slaughtered here; at three and three-quarter miles crossed the what appears main channel of the creek coming from west-south-west, and various others coming in all directions; this is an immense creek, sandy and gravelly bed, with large and to me perfectly new trees, with short and broad dark green leaf and often clustering in fine saplings from the bottom and growing to a good height; also some fine gums. Creek now on the right; country after crossing the creek is splendidly grassed and firm sound ground between creek and range which is some distance off; but we will be gradually approaching it on our present course. At seven and a half miles crossed sandy creek from west; at ten one-eighth miles crossed large deep creek from west, at twelve miles sandy creek from west; and at fourteen miles sandy creek from west; at fourteen and a quarter miles large sandy creek, west, with water in sand; went down the creek east for a quarter of a mile to water and camped at the junction of the other creek we crossed a short distance back with this; the creek immediately below this is about 300 yards wide with excellent timber; there has been a little spinifex during today's travel but the bulk of it has been well-grassed and fresh varieties of good sound country; a specimen of copper picked up in one of the creeks; a great abundance of quartz and mica strewed everywhere. I think I forgot to mention that at the division of waters on the low bald undulations limestone is strewed about in large and small circular pieces from the size of a saucer to three and four feet in diameter, besides large blocks of it; the hills on the west are of a hard stone between flint and sandstone, strewed about with quartz; the eastern one is of burned slate or clay, pretty much resembling many that we have already passed and what I was on, topped with spinifex, and the side with good grasses.
Wednesday, April 23.
Camp 41. Mild night, wind light from west; started on a bearing of 345 degrees. A fresh broad-bean from a fine runner found here but rather green to obtain seed from; may get some ripe further north. A couple of small fish about two and a half to three inches long are in this waterhole, came up at the flood no doubt and left here. The horses are gone back on their old tracks and the two men who went after them, like idiots, got about half of them and retraced their steps to camp, afraid no doubt to go off the tracks to look after them in case they should get lost—this I am sorry to say is not an uncommon occurrence and has all along pestered me very much, and has in many instances caused vast detention; the worst of it is that some of them instead of improving in following tracks appear to me to be getting daily more stupid. The sheep and bullocks I have sent on on the proper bearing, so that if it is even late when the horses are found they can be overtaken and a journey made; but it does not give me an opportunity of finding water and good camp as I otherwise would be able to do getting them in a proper time. Wind at 10 a.m. changed to east-north-east, beautiful morning. At middle of the day, the horses not making their appearance, I sent after the sheep and bullocks and had them turned back to camp; they arrived at sunset and the horses just arrived at the same time, having strayed amongst the spinifex a considerable distance. I took a horse and went to the nearest hill about seven miles distant to observe the course of the main creek, but the day proving warm and misty I did not get so distinct a view as I anticipated, it was extensive enough but indistinct although the elevation I was on must have been more than 3000 feet from level of the creek, and much higher ranges on to west of it; from top of it portions of the main range appear in the far distance at 347 1/2 degrees; no other eminence round the horizon to 95 degrees; the whole intervening space filled with creeks running in all directions towards the main creek, that must be distant from the hill I was on easterly nearly twenty miles with an apparent northerly course; this hill is detached from the main mass of range and distant from four to five miles. It and the most of the intervening space between the camp and it is literally one mass of quartz and quartz-reefs, mica, etc., and on top of range is a sort of flaggy slate, all apparently having undergone the action of fire—this range I have called Sarah's Range; it bears from camp 323 degrees seven miles; a great deal of spinifex and abrupt creeks between camp and it, not a speck of gold visible but it appears to have undergone the action of fire; this is another day lost. Such detention makes me quite irritable and fidgety.
Thursday, April 24.
Camp 41. Night mild, warm morning. Bearing of 345 degrees for three miles, within which distance three tributaries from the range from the west cross us, not of any great size. Change course to 352 degrees, the ground being rather stony and full of spinifex, and the side creeks very sandy, and little hopes of water for the animals although plenty could be had for our own use. At one mile, tributary; at two miles another; four and a quarter miles another; at seven miles junction of two, where we camp; although the distance is short, the bullocks being absent this morning when I left camp, and it appears had gone towards our old camp about eight miles before they were overtaken. I hope all the animals will be at hand in the morning to enable us to make a good day of it tomorrow. Just below the junction of these two creeks (although the southern one is only a small one and in it we got the water) the creek is from 250 to 300 yards broad with splendid gums in it on its banks. Although I searched up and down the main creek some distance still no water to be found, the bed of the creek is so very sandy. My reason for camping at so short a stage was that from the top of the hill I was on I fancy I could discern a continuation of dry-looking country beyond this creek. Very little spinifex on the way today; plenty of grass and very good travelling; masses of quartz and mica all along our tracks; ridges low with some spinifex run in considerably to the east towards the main creek—lots of myall and other shrubs. The natives are busy burning on the ranges some distance west of this and have been burning daily ever since we came on the creek, and I suppose are still unaware of our presence or they would have paid us a visit. For the last 150 miles at least there have been on the slopes and tops of all the ranges decaying red anthills, not tenanted and gradually decaying—many of them appearing like sharp spires and washed in every shape by the rains and the weather.
Friday, April 25.
Camp 42. Mild night, warm morning. Animals all at hand for a good start. Bearing of 352 degrees; crossed good-sized creek at three and a half miles; another good-sized creek at eight miles; and at ten and a quarter miles another, but deep. During first part of the journey over good open white gum and myall forest; last part ridgy, with spinifex; quartz all the way; at twelve miles and a half crossed creek; at fourteen and a half miles crossed creek; native got water by digging in the sand; at sixteen and a quarter miles changed course to 5 degrees, the ridges and spurs coming too much in my way; four and three-quarter miles on this last bearing to a mound of slabs of sparkling stony-like mica, about fifty feet, and two mounds of similar form, but wooded on the right, no water; left Middleton here to tell them to camp for the night and watch the animals, and went myself westward to endeavour to find water for them in the morning and found it at three miles on bearing of 301 degrees, so returned; met them just having dinner; repacked and led them to water—distance travelled twenty-four miles. This is an immense creek and is still flowing slowly through and over the sand in its bed; it is upwards of 300 yards wide, comes from the west and south through the ranges, joins another about a mile north of this and passes round a small stony hill on its right bank, then takes a northerly course then, and lastly as far as I could discern, a north-east course. Very heavy gum timber. I am sorry to say today our marking chisel was lost so we will not be able to mark any more trees. The creek I have called the Marchant after William Marchant, Esquire, of Mananarie. The main creek is now a very considerable distance east. I hoped to have struck it before this but the spurs from the main range keep it off. Passed today a vast number of smaller tributaries from west; immense reefs and masses of quartz and small ranges composed of shining slabs of a grey, tough and wavy stone with masses of quartz. A good deal of spinifex but no scrub to interrupt us. Will make for a distant low spur of main range tomorrow in my course.
Saturday, April 26.
Camp 43. Very mild night; a great many clouds; a likelihood of rain. Started on bearing of 336 degrees over a vast quantity of strong spinifex; bad travelling although not very stony. Not so much quartz today although large piles of it are to be seen. Crossed Marchant's Creek and at one mile crossed a tributary. At ten miles came to a very fine creek about 400 yards broad, in one of its branches from sixty to eighty yards; broad water completely fills the space as far as you can see southward and westward. I have called it the Williams after Edward Williams, Esquire, of the North of Adelaide. Immense holes in a light blue rock in the creek a few hundred yards north of this full of water and apparently very deep, an abundance immediately beyond in the creek, which appears to flow northward. I have come rather a short journey today as the sheep and bullocks had no time to feed yesterday. Very cloudy and sultry. Lots of small fish in this creek, none yet seen longer than three inches; amongst them are a lot of fish about the same size or a little larger, with fine vertical black stripes commencing at the shoulder and a black tip to lower part of tail—body generally lighter-coloured than the other fish.
Sunday, April 27.