Journals of Two Expeditions into the Interior of New South Wales

by John Oxley

June 29.—As we proceeded down the river, the country gradually became much lower in its immediate vicinity; and between four and five miles from our resting-place it was even with the banks, and in some places overflowed them. All travelling near the river with horses was at once interrupted, and this was the more perplexing as it rendered the communication with the boats uncertain, and liable to be cut off altogether. Finding that those marshes were only impassable for a mile or little more from the river, and that occasionally we could approach within one hundred yards of it, the horses were directed to keep round the edge of them, making for the river whenever practicable, and firing guns to let the boats know our situation. At two o'clock in the after. noon we stopped, after going about ten miles and a half, about one hundred and fifty yards from the river. which we could not approach nearer by reason of wet and boggy marshes; in fact, the place where we stopped is of the same description, but now (fortunately for us) dry. The country north-east of us, along the dry edge of which we were obliged to keep, is as bad as possible, being in wet seasons full of water-holes, and consequently impassable. The river still continues undiminished, as we find that the branches and small streams that frequently run from it join it again at short distances, and that they owe their existence at this time to the full state of the river, which is certainly some feet above its usual level. The breadth and depth of the river were various throughout the day: in the places where it overflowed its banks, there was not more than from ten to twelve feet; in others, where it ran very broad, but was confined within them, fifteen feet; and in narrower places, under the same circumstances, upwards of twenty feet. Thus it seemed to vary with the capacity of the channel to contain its waters, which were very muddy, the current running at a medium rate of a mile per hour. The boats arrived at about half past four o'clock, meeting nothing to interrupt them.

June 30.—After making every arrangement that we could devise to ensure our keeping company with the boats, we proceeded down the river. Our progress was, however, interrupted much sooner than I anticipated; for we had scarcely gone six miles, and never nearer to the river than from one to two miles, when we perceived that the waters which had overflowed the banks were spreading over the plains on which we were travelling, and that with a rapidity which precluded any hope of making the river again to the north-west by north, in which direction we imagined it to run for some distance, when its course appeared to take a more northerly direction. Our situation did not admit of hesitation as to the steps we were to pursue. Our journey had, in fact, been continued longer than strict prudence would have warranted, and the safety of the whole party was now at stake: no retreat presented itself except the station we left in the morning, and even there it was impossible that we could, with any regard to prudence, remain longer than to carry the arrangements which I had in contemplation into effect. The horses were therefore ordered back, and two men succeeded, after wading through the water to the middle, in making the river about three miles below the place they set out from. Fortunately the boats had not proceeded so far, and on their coming up were directed to return. The boats arrived at sunset, having had to pull against a strong current. The river itself continued, as usual, from fifteen to twenty-five feet deep, the waters which were overflowing the plains being carried thither by a multitude of little streams, which had their origin in the present increased height of the waters above their usual level. The river continued undiminished, and presented too important a body of water to allow me to believe that those marshes and low grounds had any material effect in diffusing and absorbing it: its ultimate termination, therefore, must be more consonant to its magnitude. These reflections on the present undiminished state of the river would of themselves have caused me to pause before I hastily quitted a pursuit from the issue of which so much had naturally been expected. For all practical purposes, the nature of the country precluded me from indulging the hope, that even if the river should terminate in an inland sea, it could be of the smallest use to the colony. The knowledge of its actual termination, if at all attainable, was, however, a matter of deep importance, and would tend to throw some light on the obscurity in which the interior of this vast country is still involved. My ardent desire to investigate as far as possible this interesting question, determined me to take the large boat, and with four volunteers to proceed down the river as long as it continued navigable; a due regard being had to the difficulties we should have to contend with in returning against the stream. I calculated that this would take me a month; at all events, I determined to be provided for that period, which indeed was the very utmost that could be spared from the ulterior object of the expedition.

July 1.—The water not rising. Employed in making every preparation to proceed on the voyage down the river to-morrow morning. On mature deliberation, it was resolved that on my departure, the horses with the provisions should return back to Mount Harris, a distance of about fifteen miles, as the safety of the whole would be endangered by a longer stay at this station, and to that point I fixed to return with the large boat. It was determined, that during my absence Mr. Evans should proceed to the north-east from fifty to sixty miles, and return upon a more northerly course, in order that we might be prepared against any difficulties that might occur in the first stages of a journey to the north-east coast. The only one which I contemplated in a serious point of view, was the probable want of water until we came in contact with high land, and I hoped this might be partially provided against by Mr. Evans's expedition. The horses were all in good condition, and, from the length of time I expected to be absent, the baggage would be reduced to the smallest possible compass, and the cooper would have time to diminish the pork casks, which were far too heavy for the horses, being intended for boats only; for it had not been contemplated that the nature of the country would so soon deprive us of water carriage.

July 2.—I proceeded down the river, during one of the wettest and most stormy days we had yet experienced. About twenty miles from where I set out, there was, properly speaking, no country; the river overflowing its banks, and dividing into streams which I found had no permanent separation from the main branch, but united themselves to it on a multitude of points. We went seven or eight miles farther, when we stopped for the night upon a space of ground scarcely large enough to enable us to kindle a fire. The principal stream ran with great rapidity, and its banks and neighbourhood, as far as we could see, were covered with wood, encreasing us within a margin or bank. Vast spaces of country clear of timber were under water, and covered with the common reed [Note: Arundo phragmites. Linn.], which grew to the height of six or seven feet above the surface. The course and distance by the river was estimated to be from twenty-seven to thirty miles, on a north-north-west line.

July 3.—Towards the morning the storm abated, and at daylight we proceeded on our voyage. The main bed of the river was much contracted, but very deep, the waters spreading to the depth of a foot or eighteen inches over the banks, but all running on the same point of bearing. We met with considerable interruption from fallen timber, which in places nearly choked up the channel. After going about twenty miles, we lost the land and trees: the channel of the river, which lay through reeds, and was from one to three feet deep, ran northerly. This continued for three or four miles farther, when although there had been no previous change in the breadth, depth, and rapidity of the stream for several miles, and I was sanguine in my expectations of soon entering the long sought for Australian sea, it all at once eluded our farther pursuit by spreading on every point from north-west to north-east, among the ocean of reeds which surrounded us, still running with the same rapidity as before. There, was no channel whatever among those reeds, and the depth varied from three to five feet. This astonishing change (for I cannot call it a termination of the river), of course left me no alternative but to endeavour to return to some spot, on which we could effect a landing before dark. I estimated that during this day we had gone about twenty-four miles, on nearly the same point of bearing as yesterday. To assert positively that we were on the margin of the lake or sea into which this great body of water is discharged, might reasonably be deemed a conclusion which has nothing but conjecture for its basis; but if an opinion may be permitted to be hazarded from actual appearances, mine is decidedly in favour of our being in the immediate vicinity of an inland sea, or lake, most probably a shoal one, and gradually filling up by immense depositions from the higher lands, left by the waters which flow into it. It is most singular, that the high-lands on this continent seem to be confined to the sea-coast, or not to extend to any great distance from it.

July 7.—I returned with the boat late last night, and was glad to find that every thing had been removed to Mount Harris. Mr. Evans had not yet set out on his journey, but intends to do so to-morrow.

July 8.—Mr. Evans set forward to the north-east, taking with him eight or ten days' provisions, which I hoped would be sufficient to enable him to form a competent idea of the country we should now have to travel over. In the mean time we employed ourselves in diminishing our baggage, and setting aside eighteen weeks' provisions on a reduced ration, which was the utmost the horses could take; the remainder serving us for consumption during our stay here.

July 18.—During the last week the weather was very variable and unsettled, with constant gales from the north-west round to the south-west, and occasional heavy rain. We had reason to congratulate ourselves on the change of our situation: a delay of a few days would have swept us from the face of the earth. On the 10th, the river began to rise rapidly, and on the 15th, in the evening it was at its height, laying the whole of the low country under water, and insulating us on the spot on which we were; the water approaching within a few yards of the tent. Nothing could be more melancholy and dreary than the scene around us; and although personally safe, we could not contemplate without anxiety the difficulties we might expect to meet with, in passing over a country which the waters would leave wet and marshy, if not impracticable. By this morning the waters had retired as rapidly as they had risen, leaving us an outlet to the eastward, though I feared that to the north-east the waters would still remain. In the evening Mr. Evans returned, after an interesting though disagreeable journey. His horses were completely worn out by the difficulties of the country they had travelled over. His report, which I shall give at length, decided me as to the steps that were now to be pursued; and I determined on making nearly an easterly course to the river which he had discovered, and which was now honoured with the name of Lord Castlereagh. This route would take us over a drier country, and the river being within a short distance of Arbuthnot's range, would enable me to examine from those elevated points the country to the north-east and east; and to decide how far it might be advisable to trace the river, which it is my present inclination to do as long as its course continues to the eastward of north. From Mr. Evans's Journal, it will be perceived that the waters of the Macquarie have flowed to the north-east, and still continued flowing among the reeds, which forced him to alter his course. The circumstance of the river and other large bodies of water crossed by Mr. Evans all flowing to the north, seems to bear out the conclusion that these waters have but one common reservoir.

July 19.—A tempestuous night, with thunder, lightning, and rain. Impressed with the important use we should be able to make of our boats, it was determined to construct a carriage for the small one, which we did by the afternoon. Our labour was wasted; for we were altogether unable to contrive any harness by which the horses could draw it: we were therefore reluctantly obliged to relinquish our intention.

July 20.—The morning was fine; and after much contrivance, we succeeded in taking with us whatever was essential to our future security, and the whole of the provisions except two casks or flour. The horses were, however, very heavily laden, carrying at least three hundred and fifty pounds each; a weight which I was fearful the description of country we had to pass over would render still more burthensome. We had, however, relinquished every thing that was not indispensable, and the saddle horses were equally laden with the others. Mount Harris, under which we had remained for the last fortnight, is in lat. 31. 18. S., long. 147. 31. E. and variation 7. 48. On the summit of the hill we buried a bottle, containing a written scheme of our purposed route and intentions, with some silver coin. Our course during the day was east by north, by compass, over a level country intersected with marshes, over which the horses travelled with the utmost difficulty, and not without repeated falls. Considering how heavily they were laden, I was unwilling to press them at this early period of our journey, and halted after going seven miles on the above course. From Mount Harris, bearings were taken to the most remarkable elevations in Arbuthnot's Range, as follows: