Sunday, June 15.
Camp 18. Very cloudy, every appearance of rain. Started at 9.10 along the bed of the creek still about east by north; at 10.35 three miles the creek receives a considerable tributary from the south-east, in fact it is the main channel and the one we are in the tributary, then it flowed north 15 degrees west to north or nearly so till 11.45 when the horses knocked up, must camp and give them the rest of the day and probably tomorrow; on this latter course about two miles; distance travelled between five and six miles. After getting to camp ascended the hills on the right or eastern side of the river and never beheld such a fearfully grand country in my life, nothing but towers and pinnacles of sandstone conglomerate, fit for nothing but wallaby and euro; and if it is for a thousand years from this time it can be used by no other animals but them and the natives as it is at present. The apparent course of this river from the greatest height I could get to is about 305 degrees, going in the first place after passing the camp a little more north for three or four miles—it is a terrible country. Should the river, on a closer examination tomorrow, prove to go as I imagine it does, I have nothing for it but to retrace my steps and go up the main branch and try and cross the range at top. Still very cloudy and looks as if it would rain every minute. I wish I had a little more food, if I had I would give the animals a week here but I have barely sufficient for six days. Oaks have been seen today in the bed of the river since the junction of the two channels. The river runs below the junction of the two branches for some distance, but here it is dry its full width which is about 150 to 200 yards and is very picturesque, with beautiful drooping gums, papery-bark trees, and various others, and the bold cliffs towering one above the other with awful grandeur. No one can conceive how much effect the travel of the last few days and the shortness of nourishing food has had upon our animals which ten days ago were fit for anything—always excepting this description of awful country. Wind from all points of the compass.
Monday, June 16.


