On June 6th, the start was made from the depot, and for the first 125 miles no obstacles nor impediments were met with.  Elated by this, Oxley sent two men back to Bathurst, in accordance with instructions, bearing a favourable despatch to Governor Macquarie.  But Fate was again deriding the unfortunate explorer.  No sooner had the two parties separated, one with well-grounded hopes of their ultimate success, the other bearing back tidings of these confident hopes, than doubt and distrust entered into the mind of the leader.  Twenty-four hours after the departure of the messengers, Oxley wrote in his journal:—­

“For four or five miles there was no material change in the general appearance of the country from what it had been on the preceding days, but for the last six miles the land was considerably lower, interspersed with plains clear of timber and dry.  On the banks it was still lower, and in many places it was evident that the river-floods swept over them, although this did not appear to be universally the case...These unfavourable appearances threw a damp upon our hopes, and we feared that our anticipations had been too sanguine.”

And still, as Oxley went on, he found the country getting flatter and more liable to inundation, until at last, with a heart nearly as low as the country, he found himself almost hemmed in by water.  In fact, it was necessary to retrace steps in order to find a place where they could encamp with safety.  Upon this emergency, Oxley held a consultation with Evans and Harris, and it was decided to send the baggage and horses back to a small and safe elevation that stood some fifteen miles higher up the river, thus making a subsidiary depot camp.  Oxley himself, with four volunteers in the largest of the two boats, would take a month’s provisions and follow the stream as long as there was enough water to float their craft.  Meanwhile, Evans, during Oxley’s absence, was to make an excursion to the north-east, and return by a more northerly route, this being the direction the party intended to take, should the river fail them as the Lachlan had done on the previous journey.

It was a wet and stormy day on which Oxley started on the river voyage.  For about twenty miles there was, as Oxley expresses it, “no country.”  The main channels being in an overflow state, the flat country which surrounded them could be recognised only by the timber growing on the banks.  The clear spaces whereon no trees grew were now covered with reeds, which stood at the height of six or seven feet above the surface.  That night they took refuge on a piece of land which was so nearly submerged that there was scarcely enough space on which to kindle a fire.  In the morning the violence of the storm had somewhat abated, and as soon as the grey light was strong enough for them to recognise their way, they resumed their dreary journey.