The Explorers (25 page)

Several persons passed the road near us, asking the usual hospitalities of Australian camps: a drink of water and a light for their pipe. My people were ordered to give a bit of tobacco to all persons who appeared in need of such a present. In the afternoon I descended some slightly undulating hills, and passed Raby, one of the most famous farms in the colony. I stopped for the night at Mr Howell's farm, called Molle's Main, and situated a short distance to the left of the road. Mr H. had invited me previously at Sydney, and I could not fail to call upon a gentleman who, in conjunction with Mr Hamilton Hume, was the first traveller who saw the Australian Alps from a distance, and brought these giants to the notice of the world.
^†
Both he and Mrs Howell received me very politely. I saw the chart of Mr Howell's journey, and was confirmed by this document and his information in my original plan to approach the Alps (as I did afterwards) by the eastern side. The soil of the farm is rather moist, and rich in grass, upon which a considerable dairy stock is kept. In the winter of 1831, ice was seen about this place.

On Sunday (12th January) I left Molle's Main, whence the land ascends towards Mr Scott's farm and commands a fine view over the land at the Cow Pasture River, towards which the country gently verges…At noon, I stopped at Cawdor, an old government station. This is one of the places which are called in the colony ‘watering places'. In such the government men,* and other people who are desirous of practising economy, stop with their teams and cook their provisions; here the travelling stockmen remain with their herds for refreshment.

Here, therefore, you may be assured of meeting with large heaps of half-consumed timber, often still burning, and then nothing is necessary but to put on pots of water for tea. In such places the Australian traveller who happens to have a few good servants may enjoy a state of the greatest independence and ease. Nothing but the sun and meteors (those rulers of nature herself) will influence his determination, he may fancy himself master of all that surrounds him, he can walk for hours or days under the dome of gigantic eucalyptus, repose on the down of ever-verdant herbage; he may stop or start as he pleases and, circumscribed by his own will to the moderate comforts conveyed in his cart (a sort of terrestrial vessel), he is always in that tranquil state where neither buying nor selling is wanted. In that way I greatly enjoyed my camps. One of my younger servants was strolling about to catch some insect, another to gather plants, whilst I was occupied in arranging and classifying such objects, and composing my journal.

In the afternoon I ascended a slight range, which lies before a higher one, called Razorback…The highest peak of the Blue Mountains bears here
NNW
forty miles distance. On the most elevated point of Razorback the view is still more extensive and majestic. But such and all similar sensations were damped by a feeling which darkened all my views in Australia, namely that the vivifying feature to all this scenery—the man—is no more. The Aborigines of all these extensive lands are gone, they have given room to another race of people, and what these will be, time alone can unveil!…

Monday (January 13) at half past five a.m., the thermometer ranged from 58 to 60, according to the force of the western breeze. I found afterwards that the thermometer is always affected by this circumstance. At 6 a.m. the rivulet, which is at the foot of the rock, showed 61. Here, as well as at Razorback, it was that I and my men began to collect specimens with more carefulness, and we stopped at this place until 3 p.m. All sorts of preparations were going on, of the product of which unfortunately I can give the reader little account, several of my boxes which I left in charge on the road (those from the Alps, I took back in my cart myself) having been maliciously spoiled or plundered. The discriminating reader will not blame me for the many apparently minor affairs I mingle with this work. In this spacious country the germ of a vast empire is laid…

After the heat of the day was over and our business transacted, we started and, passing different ridges of forest land, reached Stone Quarry Greek, whence we proceeded to Myrtle Creek to stop for the night. Between these two places is a remarkable stratum of limestone, and at the last one an interesting simple mineral of the same tribe—which at present I am unable to distinguish any further, two parcels containing my collections in this quarter, having been exposed for weeks in the heaviest rain at Sydney, and in consequence all the paper and straw which surrounded the stones was converted into mere dung, all labels were rotted etc. At the Travellers Arms I found a merry party dancing to the strains of a violin. Music is a thing seldom heard in our colony; I listened therefore with pleasure even to these monotonous tones. All passed very decently, and I enjoyed myself in my room seeing others to enjoy.

A crystalline dew the next morning (Jan. 14) covered all herbage along the way; such freshness and elasticity of the air may, I am sure, extract every germ of pulmonary affection from the discriminating European traveller's chest. We approached Bargo Brush, a range of little elevation, stretching from
SW
to
NE.
The heat was oppressive; we therefore encamped near Lupton's inn to divert the harassing way through the Bargo…

From Bargo we arrived at J. Keigron's inn, situated in a valley of good land, but closely encompassed by bushy hills, which give to the whole place a rather wild aspect. The continual anxiety of an Australian traveller is regarding the existence of some potable water. I was therefore much annoyed when I saw this day towards sunset the firmament getting covered with dark clouds, which decrepitated at last in a heavy southerly storm with lightning, whilst we had still five miles to go to the place where I had determined to stop. We therefore proceeded with some haste through a wood of gum trees, which were actuated and as it were swept by a heavy gale. After some time proceeding on a road not well settled, we perceived, quite in the darkness, lights which however were only belonging to some drays, the pitched tents of which looked rather strange in this perplexing obscurity. Upon inquiry we heard that houses were near and, after some straggling about, I fell into the house of——Chalker. This rather renowned pugilist received me with civility enough, and offered us every accommodation his little quasi inn offered.

† Mr H. was of course William Hovell.

* This is one of the names by which the transported convicts are distinguished in the colony.

G
EORGE
F
RANKLAND

A Landscape beyond All Description, 1835

The breathtaking beauty of Tasmania's central highlands remained unknown for decades after European settlement. The Aboriginal inhabitants had been largely exterminated or removed before George Frankland entered this fairy-tale landscape on an exploring expedition to the head of the Derwent River in February 1835. Frankland left the expedition two weeks before Lake Pedder was discovered by John Wedge on 11 March 1835. What would he have thought had he known that, little more than a century after European eyes first lighted on glorious Lake Pedder, the jewel in the south-west's crown would follow its first human inhabitants into oblivion?

10 February 1835—In the evening having advanced about six miles we reached the eastern extremity of an unusually extensive marsh—through which we found a considerable river took its course which I called the Humboldt in honor of the distinguished naturalist of that name. We encamped on the edge of a small streamlet which joined the river towards the western end of the marsh, and before night I reconnoitred the country to the extent of four or five miles around our ground. We found a great abundance of kangaroos but no wild cattle.

A very remarkable mountain here discovered itself to our view towards the north-west. It appeared of immense height, and perpendicular on all sides. From its situation and features I conjectured that it must be the hill called Barn's Bluff which lies to the south of the Company's lands, and which I had formerly seen from that side—and in this belief we remained for several days afterwards. Its isolated and commanding position at once excited in us the desire of ascending to its summit, but the apparently inaccessible nature of its faces left us but slender hope of being able to accomplish the object.

11 February—The first portion of this day's march lay through the long plain before described. The Humboldt running to the south was crossed by a good ford—and we again entered tracts of open forests—with occasional intervals of beautiful marshes wearing the most luxuriant appearance. Continuing a west course and after advancing five miles we suddenly found ourselves on the edge of a beautiful lake in the heart of scenery of the most picturesque character.

I here halted the party to breakfast, and on climbing a tree I ascertained that the sheet of water on the border of which we then stood formed but a comparatively small proportion of the lake which, after winding round several tongues of land beautifully tufted with rich luxuriant foliage, extended for many miles to the north-west, washing the north-east bases of the lofty mountains which I have just mentioned. Judging from the appearances around us that a river probably discharged itself from the lake near the point we then occupied, I despatched Alexander Mackay to coast it to the westward for a mile or two while the party were breakfasting, and while I was engaged in making drawings of the romantic scenery around.

In the course of half an hour he returned, bringing the intelligence that his progress had soon been arrested by a large river falling out of the lake, and being to all appearance the Derwent. This conjecture—in which I entirely agreed so soon as I had reached its banks—was, as will be seen, subsequently verified by the result of our journey.

After breakfasting on this beautiful spot we anxiously pressed forward to explore the extent and features of the lake. The eastern bank being evidently very steep and woody—high tabular hills falling abruptly to the edge of the water—I determined on crossing the river and coasting the lake by its western shore. At a point a few hundred yards from where the water discharges itself we found a tree lying across the river, which served to us for a secure bridge and enabled us to cross the whole of our baggage—the horses being unladen and made to ford the lake a little above the commencement of the river.

Arrived on the other side, I found an extensive flat tract of land bounding Lake Saint Clair on the south and, leaving the reach which had first come under our notice, we traversed this marsh in a north-west direction; and after walking about a mile we again joined the lake and obtained a magnificent view of the greatest portion of this beautiful sheet of water—a deep bay stretched away to our left (south-west) and lay embosomed in sloping hills covered with the most varied foliage, but the main arm extended in a north-west direction in one unbroken sheet apparently ten miles long and three wide, washing the northeastern base of that lofty basaltic mountain which I have before adverted to.

It was a fine summer's day and the air was so serene that the surface of the water was scarcely ruffled but the sandy beaches bore evidence of the lake being at times as rough as the sea. I will not here dilate on the extreme beauty of this scenery as it might be considered out of place in an official report, but I confess that while thus narrating the circumstances of the journey I feel it difficult to avoid expressing the impressions of delight which were inspired by the first discoverings of such a romantic country, impressions which are almost revived by retracing one's progress through it, even in cold narrative. I believe every man of the party felt more or less the calm influence of the scenery and, to all, this day's journey was a matter of recreation.

We sauntered along the south coast of the western bay for three miles, sometimes walking along the finest beaches of white gravel and sometimes ascending the banks—where an open forest opposed no obstacles to our travelling; at length, having reached the head of the bay and the clearer ground here closing in, we determined to halt and accordingly we pitched our blankets on the beach.

The point where we encamped commanded a good view of the upper portions of the great mountain and gave us the opportunity of reconnoitring its features at leisure. On every side it appeared scarped by perpendicular columns of basalt so as to be quite insurmountable but when the setting sun lit up in bold relief every pillar of this singular natural structure we conceived hopes of being able to find some fissure through which an ascent might be practicable, and as the position of the mountain rendered it probable that a most extensive view of the adjacent country would be commanded from its summit I resolved on attempting to scale it.

The base was computed to be seven miles from our encampment—and the intervening ground seemed thickly wooded. It was judged necessary therefore to provide ourselves with four days' provisions for this excursion, and on the morning of the 12th—leaving a party of men with the pack horses and baggage at our encampment on the little bay, which was named Cynthia's Cove—the remainder consisting of fourteen persons started in the direction of the mountain.