I Passed Between Roper's Peak And Macarthur's Peak, To The Northward, And
Came In Sight Of Another Very Remarkable Cone, Which I Afterwards Called
Calvert's Peak, After My Fellow-Traveller, In Consequence Of His Having
Suffered Severely In Its Neighbourhood, As I Shall Soon Have To Mention.
I traced a creek at the east side of Macarthur's Peak to its head, and
went down another on its west side to a large plain, which seemed to be
limited to the westward by openly-timbered ridges.
As we advanced into
the plain, a most remarkable and interesting view of a great number of
peaks and domes opened to the N.N.W. and N.W. There seemed no end of
apparently isolated conical mountains, which, as they resemble very much
the chain of extinct volcanos in Auvergne, might easily be mistaken for
such; but, after changing the aspect a little, they assumed the
appearance of immense tents, with very short ridge-poles. To the most
remarkable of them, which had the appearance of an immense cupola, I gave
the name of Gilbert's Dome, after my companion. Far to the N.N.W. a blue
peak was seen rising behind a long range of mountains, and from the
latter a valley seemed to descend to the W.N.W. A round hill, of a
reddish colour, to the south or south-west of Macarthur's Peak, was
called Mount Lowe, after R. Lowe, Esq. of Sydney. The general direction
of these mountains seems to be from N. 60 degrees W. to S. 60 degrees E.,
and, if we compare them with the line of the coast in the neighbourhood
of Broadsound and Shoalwater bay, bearing due east, it will be found that
they are parallel to its direction. All the creeks which we examined, and
which fell to the south-west, were entirely dry. On the ridges which
bounded the plain to the westward, I met with Acacia pendula; and I may
here remark that this appears to be the most northern limit of its
habitat. Here also, in an old camp of the natives, we found a heap of
muscle-shells, which were probably taken from some very deep and shady
holes in the creek, but which were now without the slightest indication
of moisture. Water failing us on the western slopes, I crossed to the
east side, under the idea and hope that the north and north-east sides of
the range, from being more exposed to the sea winds, would be better
provided with water; and, passing to the left of Calvert's Peak, over low
basaltic ridges, I came to a creek with a shallow bed, winding between
basaltic ridges to the north-east. These ridges were lightly timbered,
and covered with an abundance of dry grass: dark-green patches of scrub
raised our hopes from time to time, and quickened our pace; but in vain,
for no water was to be found. Fatigued and exhausted by thirst, both
rider and horse wished for an early halt. We stopped, therefore, and
hobbled our horses; and, when I had spread my saddle, my head sank
between its flaps, and I slept soundly until the cool night-air, and the
brilliant moonlight, awoke me. I found my poor companion, Mr. Calvert,
suffering severely from thirst, more so indeed than I did; but I was
unfortunately labouring under a most painful diarrhoea, which of itself
exhausted my strength. In the morning, to add to our distress, our horses
were not to be found, and Mr. Calvert had a walk of four hours to get
them: the poor brutes had rambled away in search of water, but found
none. The scream of a cockatoo made me wish to continue our ride down the
creek; but my companion was so completely exhausted that I resolved upon
returning to the camp, but by a different route, passing to the east side
of Scott's and Roper's Peaks. We found sandstone ridges to the very foot
of the peaks. Although we passed many localities where water might have
been expected, and travelled where three different rocks, domite,
sandstone, and basalt, came in contact, and where springs are so
frequently found, yet not a drop of water could we find. In travelling
over the hot plains our horses began to fail us; neither whip nor spur
could accelerate their snail-like pace; they seemed to expect that every
little shade of the scattered trees would prove a halting-place; and it
was not without the greatest difficulty that we could induce them to pass
on. It was indeed distressingly hot: with open mouths we tried to catch
occasional puffs of a cooler air; our lips and tongue got parched, our
voice became hoarse, and our speech unintelligible. Both of us, but
particularly my poor companion, were in the most deplorable state. In
order to ease my horse, I tried to walk; but, after a few paces. I found
it impossible; I was too much exhausted. At this distressing moment,
however, we crossed the tracks of horses and bullocks, and then we knew
we were near the camp, the sight of which, a short time afterwards, was
most welcome to us.
Jan. 29. - Finding that one of the water-holes of the camp had dried up,
and that the other was very muddy, we returned to larger water-holes two
miles to the south-east. After having done this, I sent Mr. Gilbert and
Charley down the creek, to ascertain its course, and to see whether it
would be practicable to skirt the highland of peak range to the westward.
Last night thunder-storms were gathering to the south-west, but they did
not come up to us. The night breeze is very strong and regular, and sets
in invariably between a quarter and half-past eight o'clock; last night
it was quite a gale, which I considered to be the indication of a change
in the weather, and of rain.
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