September 11.—Our course for near eight miles led us along a broad and very elevated ridge of poor forest land, intermixed with brush; when we were stopped from proceeding farther eastward by the deep chasm or glen, which we had seen at a distance yesterday. This tremendous ravine runs near north and south, its breadth at the bottom does not apparently exceed one hundred or two hundred feet, whilst the separation of the outer edges is from two to three miles. I am certain that in perpendicular depth it exceeds three thousand feet. The slopes from the edges were so steep and covered with loose stones, that any attempt to descend even on foot was impracticable. From either side of this abyss, smaller ravines of similar character diverged, the distance between which seldom exceeded half a mile. Down them trickled rills of water, derived from the range on which we were. We could not however discern which way the water in the main valley ran, as the bottom was concealed by a thicket of vines and creeping plants. From the range on which we were, we could distinctly see the coast line of hills. The country between us and the coast was of an equal elevation, and appeared broken and divided by ravines and steep precipices. We continued along the edge of this ravine southerly for about four miles, when we halted for the day. Our only hope of being enabled to cross this barrier depends upon our pursuing a southerly course, when if the waters run northerly, the dividing range between them and Hunters River will permit us again to turn easterly. If on the contrary they run southerly, their junction with Hunter's River will equally (it is to be hoped) facilitate that object.
September 12.—We were obliged during the whole of this day's journey, to keep along the ridge bordering on the glen. It is impossible to form a correct idea of the wild magnificence of the scenery without the pencil of a Salvator. Such a painter would here find an ample field for the exercise of his genius. How dreadful must the convulsion have been that formed these glens! The principal glen led us to the westward: there were others that fell into it from the southward; but we perceived that the waters in it ran north-easterly, which gave us strong hopes of soon being enabled to head it. Several times in the course of the day we attempted to descend on foot; but after getting with much difficulty a few hundred yards, we were always stopped by perpendicular precipices. Scarcely a quarter of a mile elapsed without a spring from the top of the ridge crossing our track, forming at its entrance into the main glen a vast ravine. The ridge along which we travelled was, as might be expected, very stony. It was otherwise open forest land, thickly timbered with large, stringy bark trees, casuarinae, and a large species of eucalyptus. Kangaroos abounded on it, and the tracks of emus were also seen.
September 13.—We were too anxious to find a passage across this river (for such we now perceived it to be), to permit us to rest this day. We proceeded on a variety of courses to avoid the deep ravines or glens which conducted numerous small streams of water to the principal one. Our road was very rugged, and our elevation sometimes very considerable, every part heavily timbered. Our course, which led us chiefly west, now terminated at one of the most magnificent waterfalls we had ever seen. The water was precipitated over a perpendicular rock at least one hundred and fifty feet in height in one unbroken sheet, falling into a large reservoir about one third down the whole declivity: hence it wound its way through the glen for about half a mile farther, when it joined the main stream. This grand fall was called Beckett's Cataract, in honour of the Judge Advocate General. It now commenced raining so heavily that we were obliged to stop on the spot, though by no means an eligible situation. We had not seen any place where there had been the slightest possibility of descending; but as we were not many miles from the river which we crossed on Wednesday last, we knew that this rugged country must soon end.
September 14.—The weather preventing us from proceeding, parties were sent out to search the banks of the glen, for a place by which to descend and cross it. Two of the people traced it up so far as to ascertain that the river which we had crossed on Wednesday was the same which had so embarrassed us. It entered the glen in a fall of vast height: above, there was no difficulty in crossing it, the country being clear and open, and of moderate height. A kangaroo was chased to this fall, down which he leapt and was dashed to pieces; like the hero of Wordsworth's "Hartleap Well." It is wonderful that the dogs escaped the same fate. We had been also successful in finding a passage nearer to the tent. About a mile above Beckett's Cataract, a pass was discovered by which we might descend, and the opposite side appeared equally favourable. It appears that we have been hitherto deceived respecting the magnitude of the river which runs through the glen, owing to the vast height from which it was viewed, and to our being seldom within a mile of it. The geologist would here have a most interesting field for research, and would doubtless be enabled to account for those natural phenomena, which, from their defiance of all rule, perplex us so greatly. These mountains abound with coal and slate. The dip of the rocks on this side (the north) of the glen, is about twenty degrees to the west.
September 15.—We first attempted the pass nearest to us, and which was reported to be practicable. The horses with tolerable ease descended the first ridge, which was about one third down; but it was impossible to proceed a step farther with them: indeed we had the utmost difficulty to get them back again. Three of them actually rolled over, and were saved only by the trees from being precipitated to the bottom. Quitting this place, we proceeded up the glen, into which many small streams fell from the most awful heights, forming so many beautiful cascades. After travelling five or six miles, we arrived at that part of the river at which, after passing through a beautiful and level though elevated country, it is first received into the glen. We had seen many fine and magnificent falls, each of which had excited our admiration in no small degree, but the present one so far surpassed any thing which we had previously conceived even to be possible, that we were lost in astonishment at the sight of this wonderful natural sublimity, which perhaps is scarcely to be exceeded in any part of the eastern world. The river, after passing through an apparently gentle rising and fine country, is here divided into two streams, the whole width of which is about seventy yards. At this spot, the country seems cleft in twain, and divided to its very foundation: a ledge of rocks, two or three feet higher than the level on either side, divides the waters in two, which, falling over a perpendicular rock two hundred and thirty-five feet in height, forms this grand cascade. At a distance of three hundred yards, and an elevation of as many feet, we were wetted with the spray which arose like small rain from the bottom: the noise was deafening; and if the river had been full, so as to cover its entire bed, it would have been perhaps more awfully grand, but certainly not so beautiful. After winding through the cleft rocks about four hundred yards, it again falls in one single sheet upwards of one hundred feet, and continues in a succession of smaller falls about a quarter of a mile lower, where the cliffs are of a perpendicular height, on each side exceeding one thousand two hundred feet, the width at the edges about two hundred yards. From thence it descends as before described until all sight of it is lost, from the vast elevation of the rocky hills which it divides and runs through. The different points of this deep glen seem as if they would fit into the opposite fissures which form the smaller glens alternately on either side. The whole is indeed a grand natural spectacle, and is an indubitable mark of the vast convulsions which this country must at one period have undergone. The rocks are all slate, the upper romanae of which are of a light brown colour, rotten, and easily separated. Nearer the base or surface of the water they are of a dark blue, and of a firmer texture. The waters are quite discoloured, owing to the nature of the bed over which they run, the soluble particles of coal among the slate tinging them a dark brown. This fine fall is not more than five miles below the place where we crossed the river on the 9th instant, and we were doubtless prevented from hearing the noise of the waters, by the numerous smaller falls in the vicinity. This most magnificent fall and the river itself were respectively named Bathurst and Apsley, in honour of the Noble Secretary of State for the colonies. Although a week had elapsed in effecting the passage of this river, we could not consider it as entirely lost, especially as it enabled us to ascertain that its direction was to the coast; and we hoped that the nature of the country would permit us to fix its embouchure.
September 16.—The weather for some days past has been very unseasonable, cold and tempestuous, with frequent heavy and continued showers of rain: this remarkable coldness of temperature in such a latitude (31 degrees,) I cannot but attribute to the considerable elevation of the country above the sea, being certainly between four and five thousand feet. We proceeded to the south-east during this day's journey, on purpose to avoid the broken land in the vicinity of the river. It was good travelling though hilly: the soil, for the most part, a poor clay; and the timber not so good or large as usual. There was however much good land, particularly in the valleys, through every one of which a stream of water took its course to the river. At twelve miles, we halted on the banks of a considerable and rapid stream watering an extensive and wide valley. The many waters which fall into Apsley River must very considerably increase its magnitude; and I am in hopes after it has cleared this mountainous tract and we again fall in with it, that we shall find it a useful as well as fine stream. The river on which we encamped was named Croker's River, in honour of the First Secretary of the Admiralty.
September 17.—We proceeded on an easterly course during this day's journey; and seven miles from Croker's River crossed a smaller stream running to the north-east. For the first ten miles the country was very poor and badly timbered, with barren stony hills; but from the last mentioned stream to our halting-place, at the end of twelve miles, though the land was hilly the soil was excellent, consisting of a rich, dark mould. The hills were particularly rich and thickly clothed with fine timber, blue gum, and stringy bark. We halted on the side of a hill, from the top of which we could see a great distance to the north and east. In the first quarter, lofty hills were seen from eighty to one hundred miles off, and generally very irregular. To the east the land was elevated, but more divided by sloping valleys, and we augured that at least for thirty miles in the direction of our course, we should not meet with any such serious obstruction as the last: indeed we imagined we could trace the course of the river nearly on a parallel line with us. We this day saw a solitary native, but I believe we were indebted for the sight rather to the circumstance of his being deprived of the use of his limbs than to his boldness or curiosity. Two or three families had been encamped on the spot where we found him, but they had all departed. He seemed more astonished than alarmed at the sight of our cavalcade, and expressed his wonder in a singular succession of sounds, resembling snatches of a song. His countenance was mild and pleasing, and was entirely divested of the ferocity we had seen expressed in the visages of some of his countrymen: he had lost the upper front tooth, and I think it was probable that he had heard of such beings as ourselves before. He was a miserable object: several ribs on his left side had been broken; his back was twisted, which apparently had been the means of depriving him of the use of his limbs, as no injury could be discovered about them.
September 18.—During the night and this morning it has continued to blow a perfect equinoctial storm. We were in constant dread that some of the branches of the trees which surrounded us would fall on the tent. Proceeding on our course to the east-north-east, we did not advance above a mile and a half before a small stream running to the north-east through a very steep and narrow valley obliged us to alter our course more southerly, which we did, and soon entered a forest of stringy bark and blue gum trees of immense size and great beauty. The soil on which they grew was a rich vegetable mould covered with fern trees [Note: Alsophila australis of Brown.] and small shrubs. We found that this part of the country was intersected by deep valleys, the sides of which were clothed with stately trees, but of what kind we were ignorant: creepers and smaller timber trees, all of species not previously noticed by us, grew so extremely thick that we found it impossible to penetrate through them. We therefore continued along the edge of those valleys, our progress much impeded by the vast trunks of fallen trees in a state of decay, some of which were upwards of one hundred and fifty feet long, without a branch, as straight as an arrow, and from three to eight and ten feet in diameter. The forest through which we travelled appeared to be an elevated level or plain, and at three o'clock in the afternoon, after proceeding three or four miles to the westward, we cleared this truly primeval forest, and descended into a small valley of open ground, through which ran the stream we had crossed in the morning. Indeed we were not more than two miles south of the place we had quitted. Our hope of proceeding without much interruption was thus disappointed: the gloominess of the weather, and the constant showers that fell, so impeded our view and distorted its objects, that what appeared plain and practicable at a distance of two or three miles, when approached was found impassable. I think it probable, however, that our most serious obstructions will be the thickness of the timber, rotten trees, and creeping plants; the soil is so rich and free from rocks, that I do not think the steepness of the descents will greatly endanger us. The wind, which had been extremely violent all day, was now accompanied by heavy showers; and we thought ourselves extremely fortunate in not being obliged to encamp in the forest. The storm as the evening advanced increased to almost a hurricane, with torrents of rain. Since Apsley River had been ascertained to take a direction coast-wise, the principle which governed the direction of our course had been to endeavour to make a port on the coast laid down in lat. 30. 45. S., and which I had an idea might probably receive this river, now increased by a multitude of smaller streams, and if so, that it might serve as a point of communication with the fine country in the interior. It is true this port is marked as a bar harbour; but I knew that it had never been examined, and I was aware how possible it was for a harbour to appear closed by a reef from a ship sailing at a distance along the coast. At all events the point was worth ascertaining; and notwithstanding the repeated disappointments we had experienced in attempting a north-easterly course, I shall, if we are enabled to clear the deep valleys we are at present embarrassed with, persevere for some time longer. I consider it every way important to know into what part of the coast these waters are discharged.
September 19.—The storm continued to rage with unabated violence throughout the night and the whole of this day, accompanied by torrents of rain and hail: the weather was also extremely cold and bleak; the thermometer in the mornings and evenings being not more than 5 or 6 degrees above the freezing point: indeed, the season much nearer resembles the winter of a far more southern latitude than the spring of lat. 31.
September 20.—Towards the morning the storm abated, but throughout the day it was dark and gloomy, with passing showers. In the present state of the weather we did not think it prudent to attempt penetrating through the thick forests which we knew were before us, and our horses would be the better for rest. The botanical collector descended into one of the valleys nearest to us, and found the sides of it clothed with the timber before mentioned: it was quite new to us. Some of the flower and seed were procured, as it was generally found in full flower, which gave these stately trees a richness and beauty I had never seen equalled. A great variety of other equally interesting plants was also found, some of them new species of timber. The valleys were of the richest soil, having a small run of water in their bottoms. Observed the variation by evening azimuth to be 10. 39. E.