Especially where the country between Woodhouse Lagoon and Lake Wells, and
between that lake and Lake Darlot is discussed, are made with the further
knowledge of these regions that our return journey gave us.
It seems a remarkable fact that while a spring should be found dry, not
five miles from it a fresh-water lagoon with millions of gallons in it
should exist. In the first place Alexander Spring is no spring; Sir John
Forrest told me himself that at the time of naming it he was very
doubtful. Hubbe dug it out to bedrock and proved it to be merely a local
soakage in the gravelly bed of a narrow gully. Now a heavy downpour
sufficient to run the creek and fill the lagoon must certainly first fill
the spring and neighbouring pools. But the water in the spring would soon
evaporate, whilst the depth and area of the lagoon would save its
contents from diminishing from this cause, for a much longer period. So
that after all it is easily understandable that we should find the lagoon
full and the so-called spring dry.
Near the foot of Mount Allott we found Hubbe's camp, and in it several
straps and hobble-chains; two tin-lined packing cases had been left
behind, and from them we took the lids, not quite knowing to what use we
could put them, but yet feeling they might be serviceable; and indeed
they were.
On the summit of the hill Forrest had raised a cairn of stones; this had
been pulled down by the natives and subsequently replaced by Hubbe. The
blacks had again started to take it to pieces; I rebuilt what they had
removed and placed on the cairn a board on which I wrote directions to
the lagoon, in case any other traveller should pass.
By the side of the little creek to the North-West of the hill a bloodwood
tree has been marked on one side with the number of Mills's camp, and on
the other with a record of the objects of Hubbe's expedition, S.R.
standing presumably for "Stock Route."
The flat on which these trees are growing is, in my opinion, a very
likely spot for finding water by sinking.
CHAPTER VII
THE GREAT UNDULATING DESERT OF GRAVEL
On August 22nd we left this kindly little oasis and directed our course
to the North. We were now nearly in the centre of the Colony, and had
made enough easting, a general northerly course being necessary to take
us through the heart of the great unknown. It was my intention to steer
due North for as long a period as possible, only deviating from it when
forced by the exigencies of water-hunting, and when it became necessary,
to bear somewhat to the eastward so as to hit off the vicinity of Hall's
Creek. Unless absolutely forced to do so, I did not propose to make any
deviation to the Westward - for from our small caravan it was incumbent
upon us to waste no time, unless we could do so in country where game was
procurable. So far, although our actual line of march had been through
unmapped country, we had traversed a region already crossed by another
party, whose route ran parallel to ours and some forty miles to the
north. Not that that was of the least benefit to us any more than if we
had been at sea; but it gave us the feeling that we were not in an
absolutely TERRA INCOGNITA. From the lagoon, however, our route lay
through country untrodden by any white man, with the exception of Ernest
Giles, whose track we should cross at right angles, about one hundred
miles North of Alexander Spring. But unless we sighted the Alfred and
Marie Range, named by him, we should have no guide, excepting our
position on the chart, to show us where we crossed the path of a caravan
which marched through the wilderness twenty years before.
To give a description of the country that we now encountered, from day to
day, would be so deadly monotonous that the kindest reader would hardly
forgive me; and even if it could serve any useful purpose I should
hesitate to recount the daily scene of solitude. A general account of
this country, followed by any incidents or personal adventures worthy of
notice, will suffice to give an idea of this dreary region.
From lat. 26 degrees S. to lat. 22 degrees 40 minutes there stretches a
vast desert of rolling sand, not formed in ridges like those already
described, nor heaped up with the regularity of those met with further
north. "Downs" I think is the only term that describes properly the
configuration of the country. "The Great Undulating Desert of Gravel"
would meet all requirements should it be thought worthy of a name. In
this cheerless and waterless region we marched from August 22nd until
September 17th seeing no lakes, nor creeks, nor mountains; no hills even
prominent enough to deserve a name, excepting on three occasions. Day
after day over open, treeless expanses covered only by the never-ending
spinifex and strewn everywhere with pebbles and stones of ferruginous
sandstone, as if some mighty giant had sown the ground with seed in the
hope of raising a rich crop of hills. The spinifex here cannot grow its
coarse, tall blades of grass - the top growth is absent and only round
stools of spines remain; well was it named Porcupine Grass!
Occasional clumps of mulga break the even line of the horizon, and, in
the valleys, thickets or belts of bloodwood are seen. In these hollows one
may hope to find feed for the camels, for here may grow a few quondongs,
acacia, and fern-tree shrubs, and in rare cases some herbage.
