Two Expeditions into the Interior of Southern Australia, Complete

C >> Charles Sturt >> Two Expeditions into the Interior of Southern Australia, Complete

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JUGGIONG.

A short time before we reached the Morumbidgee, we forded a creek, which
we crossed a second time where it falls into the river. After crossing it
the first time we opened a flat, on which the marks of sheep were
abundant. In the distance there was a small hill, and on its top a bark
hut. We were not until then aware of our being so near the river, but as
Mr. O'Brien had informed me that he had a station for sheep, at a place
called Juggiong, by the natives, on the immediate banks of the river, I
did not doubt that we had, at length, arrived at it. And so it proved. I
went to the hut, to ascertain where I could conveniently stop for the
night, but the residents were absent. I could not but admire the position
they had taken up. The hill upon which their hut was erected was not more
than fifty feet high, but it immediately overlooked the river, and
commanded not only the flat we had traversed in approaching it, but also a
second flat on the opposite side. The Morumbidgee came down to the foot of
this little hill from the south, and, of course, running to the north,
which latter direction it suddenly takes up from a previous S.W. one, on
meeting some hills that check its direct course. From the hill on which
the hut stands, it runs away westward, almost in a direct line, for three
miles, so that the position commands a view of both the reaches, which are
overhung by the casuarina and flooded-gum. Rich alluvial flats lie to the
right of the stream, backed by moderate hills, that were lightly studded
with trees, and clothed with verdure to their summits. Some moderate
elevations also backed a flat, on the left bank of the river, but the
colour of the soil upon the latter, as well as its depressed situation,
showed clearly that it was subject to flood, and had received the worst of
the depositions from the mountains. The hills behind it were also bare,
and of a light red colour, betraying, as I imagined, a distinct formation
from, and poorer character than, the hills behind us. At about three miles
the river again suddenly changes its direction from west to south, for
about a mile, when it inclines to the S.E. until it nearly encircles the
opposite hills, when it assumes its proper direction, and flows away to
the S.W.

CROSS THE UNDERALIGA; REACH THE MORUMBIDGEE.

We crossed the Underaliga creek a little below the stock hut, and encamped
about a mile beyond it, in the centre of a long plain. We were surrounded
on every side by hills, from which there was no visible outlet, as they
appeared to follow the bend of the river, with an even and unbroken
outline. The scenery around us was wild, romantic, and beautiful; as
beautiful as a rich and glowing sunset in the most delightful climate
under the heavens could make it. I had been more anxious to gain the banks
of the Morumbidgee on this occasion, than I had been on a former one to
gain those of the Macquarie, for although I could not hope to see the
Morumbidgee all that it had been described to me, yet I felt that on its
first appearance I should in some measure ground my anticipations of
ultimate success. When I arrived on the banks of the Macquarie, it had
almost ceased to flow, and its current was so gentle as to be scarcely
perceptible. Instead, however, of a river in such a state of exhaustion,
I now looked down upon a stream, whose current it would have been
difficult to breast, and whose waters, foaming among rocks, or circling in
eddies, gave early promise of a reckless course. It must have been
somewhat below its ordinary level, and averaged a breadth of about 80
feet. Its waters were hard and transparent, and its bed was composed of
mountain debris, and large fragments of rock. As soon as the morning
dawned, the tents were struck and we pursued our journey. We followed the
line of the river, until we found ourselves in a deep bight to the S.E.
The hills that had been gradually closing in upon the river, now
approached it so nearly, that there was no room for the passage of the
drays. We were consequently obliged to turn back, and, moving along the
base of the ranges, by which we were thus apparently enclosed, we at
length found a steep pass, the extreme narrowness of which had hidden it
from our observation. By this pass we were now enabled to effect our
escape. On gaining the summit of the hills, we travelled south for three
or four miles, through open forests, and on level ground. But we
ultimately descended into a valley in which we halted for the night. On a
closer examination of the neighbourhood, it appeared that our position was
at the immediate junction of two valleys, where, uniting the waters of
their respective creeks, the main branch declines rapidly towards the
river. One of these valleys extended to to the S.W., the other to the
W.N.W. It was evident to us that our route lay up the former; and I made
no doubt we should easily reach Whaby's station on the morrow.

ADJACENT COUNTRY.

We were now far beyond the acknowledged limits of the located parts of the
colony, and Mr. Whaby's station was the last at which we could expect even
the casual supply of milk or other trifling relief. Yet, although the
prospect of so soon leaving even the outskirts of civilization, and being
wholly thrown on our own resources, was so near, it never for a moment
weighed upon the minds of the men. The novelty of the scenery, and the
beauty of the river on which they were journeying, excited in them the
liveliest anticipations of success. The facility with which we had
hitherto pushed forward blinded them to future difficulties, nor could
there be a more cheerful spectacle than that which the camp daily
afforded. The animals browzing in the distance, and the men talking over
their pipes of the probable adventures they might encounter. The loads
had by this time settled properly, and our provisions proved of the very
best quality, so that no possible improvement could have been made for the
better.

WHABY'S STATION.

On the morrow we pushed up the southernmost of the valleys, at the
junction of which we had encamped, having moderate hills on either side of
us. At the head of the valley we crossed a small dividing range into
another valley, and halted for the night, on the banks of a creek from the
westward, as we found it impossible to reach Whaby's station, as we had
intended, before sunset. Nothing could exceed the luxuriance of the
vegetation in this valley, but the water of the creek was so impregnated
with iron, as to be almost useless. Being anxious to obtain a view of the
surrounding country, I ascended a hill behind the camp, just as the sun
was sinking, a time the most favourable for the object I had in view. The
country, broken into hill and dale, seemed richer than any tract I had as
yet surveyed; and the beauty of the near landscape was greatly
heightened by the mountainous scenery to the S. and S.E. Both the
laxmania, and zanthorea were growing around me; but neither appeared to be
in congenial soil. The face of the hill was very stony, and I found, on
examination, that a great change had taken place in the rock-formation,
the granite ranges having given place to chlorite schist.

We reached Whaby's about 9 a.m. of the morning of the 27th, and received
every attention and civility from him. The valley in which we had slept
opened upon an extensive plain, to the eastward of which the Morumbidgee
formed the extreme boundary; and it was in a bight, and on ground rather
elevated above the plain, that he had fixed his residence. He informed
me that we should have to cross the river, as its banks were too
precipitous, and the ranges too abrupt, to admit of our keeping the right
side; and recommended me to examine and fix upon a spot at which to cross,
before I again moved forward, expressing his readiness to accompany me as
a guide. We accordingly rode down the river, to a place at which some
stockman had effected a passage,--after a week's labour in hewing out a
canoe. I by no means intended that a similar delay should occur in our
case, but I saw no objection to our crossing at the same place; since its
depth, and consequent tranquillity, rendered it eligible enough for that
purpose.

THE RIVER DUMOT.

The Dumot river, another mountain stream, joins the Morumbidgee opposite
to Mr. Whaby's residence. It is little inferior to the latter either in
size or in the rapidity of its current, and, if I may rely on the
information I received, waters a finer country, the principal
rock-formation upon it being of limestone and whinstone. It rises amidst
the snowy ranges to the S.E., and its banks are better peopled than those
of the stream into which it discharges itself. Of course, such a tributary
enlarges the Morumbidgee considerably: indeed, the fact is sufficiently
evident from the appearance of the latter below the junction.

During our ride with Whaby down its banks, we saw nothing but the richest
flats, almost entirely clear of timber and containing from 400 to 700
acres, backed by ranges that were but partially wooded, and were clothed
with verdure to their very summits. The herds that were scattered over the
first were almost lost in the height of the vegetation, and the ranges
served as natural barriers to prevent them from straying away.

CROSS AND RE-CROSS THE MORUMBIDGEE.

On the following morning, we started for the place at which it had been
arranged that we should cross the Morumbidgee, but, though no more than
five miles in a direct line from Whaby's house, in consequence of the
irregularity of the ground, the drays did not reach it before noon. The
weight and quantity of our stores being taken into consideration, the task
we had before us was not a light one. Such, however, was the industry of
the men, that before it became dark the whole of them, including the drays
and sheep, were safely deposited on the opposite bank. We were enabled to
be thus expeditious, by means of a punt that we made with the tarpaulins
on an oblong frame. As soon as it was finished, a rope was conveyed across
the river, and secured to a tree, and a running cord being then fastened
to the punt, a temporary ferry was established, and the removal of our
stores rendered comparatively easy. M'Leay undertook to drive the horses
and cattle over a ford below us, but he did not calculate on the stubborn
disposition of the latter, and, consequently, experienced some difficulty,
and was well nigh swept away by the current. So great was his difficulty,
that he was obliged to land, to his great discomfiture, amidst a grove of
lofty nettles. Mulholland, who accompanied him, and who happened to be
naked, was severly stung by them. The labour of the day was, however,
satisfactorily concluded, and we lay down to rest with feelings of entire
satisfaction.

A great part of the following day was consumed in reloading, nor did we
pursue our journey until after two o'clock. We then passed over tracks on
the left of the river of the same rich description that existed on its
right; they were much intersected by creeks, but were clear of timber,
and entirely out of the reach of floods. At about seven miles from where
we started, we found ourselves checked by precipitous rocks jutting into
the stream, and were obliged once more to make preparations for crossing
it. Instead of a deep and quiet reach, however, the Morumbidgee here
expanded into a fretful rapid; but it was sufficiently shallow to admit of
our taking the drays over, without the trouble of unloading them. There
was still, however, some labour required in cutting down the banks, and
the men were fully occupied until after sunset; and so well did they work,
that an hour's exertion in the morning enabled us to make the passage with
safety. On ascending the right bank, we found that we had to force
through a dense body of reeds, covering some flooded land, at the base of
a range terminating upon the river; and we were obliged, in order to
extricate ourselves from our embarrassments, to pass to the N.W. of the
point, and to cross a low part of the range. This done, we met with no
further interruptions during the day, but travelled along rich and clear
flats to a deep bight below an angle of the river called Nangaar by the
natives; where we pitched our camp, and our animals revelled amid the most
luxuriant pasture. Only in one place did the sandy superficies upon the
plain indicate that it was there subject to flood.

The Morumbidgee from Juggiong to our present encampment had held a general
S.S.W. course, but from the summit of a hill behind the tents it now
appeared to be gradually sweeping round to the westward; and I could trace
the line of trees upon its banks, through a rich and extensive valley in
that direction, as far as my sight could reach. The country to the S.E.
maintained its lofty character, but to the westward the hills and ranges
were evidently decreasing in height, and the distant interior seemed fast
sinking to a level. The general direction of the ranges had been from N.
to S., and as we had been travelling parallel to them, their valleys were
shut from our view. Now, however, several rich and extensive ones became
visible, opening from the southward into the valley of the Morumbidgee,
and, as a further evidence of a change of country from a confused to a
more open one, a plain of considerable size stretched from immediately
beneath the hill on which I was to the N.W.

GEOLOGY OF THE NEIGHBOURHOOD.

The Morumbidgee itself, from the length and regularity of its reaches, as
well as from its increased size, seemed to intimate that it had
successfully struggled through the broken country in which it rises, and
that it would henceforward meet with fewer interruptions to its course. It
still, however, preserved all the characters of a mountain stream; having
alternate rapids and deep pools, being in many places encumbered with
fallen timber, and generally running over a shingly bed, composed of
rounded fragments of every rock of which the neighbouring ranges were
formed, and many others that had been swept by the torrents down it. The
rock formation of the hills upon its right continued of that chlorite
schist which prevailed near Mr. Whaby's, which I have already noticed, and
quartz still appeared in large masses, on the loftier ranges opposite, so
that the geology of the neighbourhood could not be said to have undergone
any material change. It might, however, be considered an extraordinary
feature in it, that a small hill of blue limestone existed upon the left
bank of the river. The last place at which we had seen limestone was at
Yass, but I had learned from Mr. Whaby, that, together with whinstone, it
was abundant near a Mr. Rose's station on the Dumot, that was not at any
great distance. The irregularity, however, of the intervening country,
made the appearance of this solitary rock more singular.

Although the fires of the natives had been frequent upon the river, none
had, as yet, ventured to approach us, in consequence of some
misunderstanding that had taken place between them and Mr. Stuckey's
stockmen. Mr. Roberts' stockmen [these men had lately fixed themselves
on the river a little below Mr. Whaby's], however, brought a man and a boy
to us at this place in the afternoon, but I could not persuade them to
accompany us on our journey--neither could I, although my native boy
understood them perfectly, gain any particular information from them.

In consequence of rain, we did not strike the tents so early as usual.
At 7 a.m. a heavy thunder storm occurred from the N.W. after which the
sky cleared, and we were enabled to push forward at 11 a.m., moving on a
general W.N.W, course, over rich flats, which, having been moistened by
the morning's showers, showed the dark colour of the rich earth of which
they were composed. Some sand-hills were, however, observed near the
river, of about fifteen feet in elevation, crowned by banksias; and the
soil of the flats had a very partial mixture of sand in it. How these
sand-hills could have been formed it is difficult to say; but they
produced little minor vegetation, and were as pure as the sand of the
sea-shore. Some considerable plains were noticed to our right, in
appearance not inferior to the ground on which we were journeying. At noon
we rose gradually from the level of these plains, and travelled along the
side of a hill, until we got to a small creek, at which we stopped, though
more than a mile and a half from the river. The clouds had been gathering
again in the N.W. quarter, and we had scarcely time to secure our flour,
when a second storm burst upon us, and it continued to rain violently for
the remainder of the day.

BEAUTIFUL PROSPECT.

From a small hill that lay to our left Mr. M'Leay and I enjoyed a most
beautiful view. Beneath us to the S. E. the rich and lightly timbered
valley through which the Morumbidgee flows, extended, and parts of the
river were visible through the dark masses of swamp-oak by which it was
lined, or glittering among the flooded-gum trees, that grew in its
vicinity. In the distance was an extensive valley that wound between
successive mountain ranges. More to the eastward, both mountain and
woodland bore a dark and gloomy shade, probably in consequence of the
light upon them at the time. Those lofty peaks that had borne nearly
south of us from Pouni, near Yass, now rose over the last-mentioned
ranges, and by their appearance seemed evidently to belong to a high and
rugged chain. To the westward, the decline of country was more observable
than ever; and the hills on both sides of the river, were lower and more
distant from it. Those upon which we found ourselves were composed of
iron-stone, were precipitous towards the river in many places, of sandy
soil, and were crowned with beef-wood as well as box. The change in the
rock-formation and in the soil, produced a corresponding change in the
vegetation. The timber was not so large as it had been, neither did the
hills any longer bear the green appearance which had distinguished those
we had passed to their very summits. The grass here grew in tufts amidst
the sand, and was of a burnt appearance as if it had suffered from
drought.

NATIVES--THEIR SUFFERING FROM COLD.

Some natives had joined us in the morning, and acted as our guides; or it
is more than probable that we should have continued our course along the
river, and got enbarrassed among impediments that were visible from our
elevated position; for it was evident that the range we had ascended
terminated in an abrupt precipice on the river, that we could not have
passed. The blacks suffered beyond what I could have imagined, from cold,
and seemed as incapable of enduring it as if they had experienced the
rigour of a northern snow storm.

The morning of the 2nd December was cloudy and lowering, and the wind
still hung in the N.W. There was truly every appearance of bad weather,
but our anxiety to proceed on our journey overcame our apprehensions,
and the animals were loaded and moved off at 7 a.m. The rain which had
fallen the evening previous, rendered travelling heavy; so that we got on
but slowly. At 11, the clouds burst, and continued to pour down for the
rest of the day. On leaving the creek we crossed the spine of the range,
and descending from it into a valley, that continued to the river on the
one hand, and stretched away to the N.W. on the other, we ascended some
hills opposite to us, and moved generally through open, undulating forest
ground, affording good pasturage.

SMOKING AN OPOSSUM.

One of the blacks being anxious to get an opossum out of a dead tree,
every branch of which was hollow, asked for a tomahawk, with which he cut
a hole in the trunk above where he thought the animal lay concealed. He
found however, that he had cut too low, and that it had run higher up.
This made it necessary to smoke it out; he accordingly got some dry grass,
and having kindled a fire, stuffed it into the hole he had cut. A raging
fire soon kindled in the tree, where the draft was great, and dense
columns of smoke issued from the end of each branch as thick as that from
the chimney of a steam engine. The shell of the tree was so thin that I
thought it would soon be burnt through, and that the tree would fall; but
the black had no such fears, and, ascending to the highest branch, he
watched anxiously for the poor little wretch he had thus surrounded with
dangers and devoted to destruction; and no sooner did it appear, half
singed and half roasted, than he seized upon it and threw it down to
us with an air of triumph. The effect of the scene in so lonely a forest,
was very fine. The roaring of the fire in the tree, the fearless attitude
of the savage, and the associations which his colour and appearance,
enveloped as he was in smoke, called up, were singular, and still dwell
on my recollection. We had not long left the tree, when it fell with a
tremendous crash, and was, when we next passed that way, a mere heap of
ashes.

ACCIDENTS.

Shortly before it commenced raining, the dogs started an emu, and took
after it, followed by M'Leay and myself. We failed in killing it, and I
was unfortunate enough to lose a most excellent watch upon the occasion,
which in regularity was superior to the chronometer I had with me.

As there was no hope of the weather clearing up, I sent M'Leay and one of
the blacks with the flour to the river, with directions to pile it up and
cover it with tarpaulins, as soon as possible, remaining myself to bring
up the drays. It was not, however, until after 4 p.m. that we gained the
river-side, or that we were enabled to get into shelter. Fraser met with a
sad accident while assisting the driver of the teams, who, accidentally,
struck him with the end of the lash of his whip in the eye, and cut the
lower lid in two. The poor fellow fell to the ground as if he had been
shot, and really, from the report of the whip, I was at first uncertain
of the nature of the accident.

PONDEBADGERY.

We had gradually ascended some hills; and as the sweep of the valley led
southerly, we continued along it until we got to its very head; then,
crossing the ridge we descended the opposite side, towards a beautiful
plain, on the further extremity of which the river line was marked by the
dark-leafed casuarina. In spite of the badness of the weather and the
misfortunes of the day, I could not but admire the beauty of the scene.
We were obliged to remain stationary the following day, in consequence
of one of the drays being out of repair, and requiring a new axle-tree.
I could hardly regret the necessity that kept us in so delightful a spot.
This plain, which the natives called Pondebadgery, and in which a station
has since been formed, is about two miles in breadth, by about three and
a-half in length. It is surrounded apparently on every side by hills. The
river running E. and W. forms its southern boundary. The hills by which we
had entered it, terminating abruptly on the river to the north-east, form
a semi-circle round it to the N.N.W. where a valley, the end of which
cannot be seen, runs to the north-west, of about half a mile in breadth.
On the opposite side of the river moderate hills rise over each other, and
leave little space between them and its banks. The Morumbidgee itself,
with an increased breadth, averaging from seventy to eighty yards,
presents a still, deep sheet of water to the view, over which the
casuarina bends with all the grace of the willow, or the birch, but with
more sombre foliage. To the west, a high line of flooded-gum trees
extending from the river to the base of the hills which form the west side
of the valley before noticed, hides the near elevations, and thus shuts in
the whole space. The soil of the plain is of the richest description, and
the hills backing it, together with the valley, are capable of depasturing
the most extensive flocks.

Such is the general landscape from the centre of Pondebadgery Plain.
Behind the line of gum-trees, the river suddenly sweeps away to the south,
and forms a deep bight of seven miles, when, bearing up again to the N.W.
it meets some hills about 10 miles to the W.N.W. of the plain, thus
encircling a still more extensive space, that for richness of soil, and
for abundance of pasture, can nowhere be excelled; such, though on a
smaller scale, are all the flats that adorn the banks of the Morumbidgee,
first on one side and then on the other, as the hills close in upon them,
from Juggiong to Pondebadgery.

TRAVELLING DOWN THE RIVER.

It is deeply to be regretted that this noble river should exist at such a
distance from the capital as to be unavailable. During our stay on the
Pondebadgery Plain, the men caught a number of codfish, as they are
generally termed, but which are, in reality, a species of perch. The
largest weighed 40lb. but the majority of the others were small, not
exceeding from six to eight. M'Leay and I walked to the N.W. extremity of
the plain, in order to ascertain how we should debouche from it, and to
get, if possible, a view of the western interior. We took with us two
blacks who had attached themselves to the party, and had made themselves
generally useful. On ascending the most westerly of the hills, we found it
composed of micaceous schist, the upper coat of which was extremely soft,
and broke with a slaty fracture, or crumbled into a sparkling dust beneath
our feet. The summit of the hill was barren, and beef-wood alone grew on
it. The valley, of which it was the western boundary, ran up northerly for
two or three miles, with all the appearance of richness and verdure. To
the south extended the flat I have noticed, more heavily timbered than we
had usually found them, bounded, or backed rather, by a hilly country,
although one fast losing in its general height. To the W.N.W. there was a
moderate range of hills on the opposite side of an extensive valley,
running up northerly, from which a lateral branch swept round to the
W.N.W. with a gradual ascent into the hills, which bore the same
appearance of open forest, grazing land, as prevailed in similar tracts to
the eastward. The blacks pointed out to us our route up the valley, and
stated that we should get on the banks of the river again in a direction
W. by N. from the place on which we stood. We accordingly crossed the
principal valley on the following morning, and gradually ascended the
opposite line of hills. They terminate to the S.E. in lofty precipices,
overlooking the river flats, and having a deep chain of ponds under them.
The descent towards the river was abrupt, and we encamped upon its banks,
with a more confined view than any we had ever had before. There was an
evident change in the river; the banks were reedy, the channel deep and
muddy, and the neighbourhood bore more the appearance of being subject to
overflow than it had done in any one place we had passed over. The hills
were much lower, and as we gained the southern brow of that under which we
encamped, we could see a level and wooded country to the westward. The
line of the horizon was unbroken by any hills in the distance, and the
nearer ones seemed gradually to lose themselves in the darkness of the
landscape.

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