Book: Spinifex and Sand

D >> David W Carnegie >> Spinifex and Sand





The above table will give some idea of the enormous expense entailed by
the opening up of the interior. In addition to these, wells and bores were
put down, many of which failed to strike water.

Ever-thoughtful Nature has provided, on the surface of the "granites,"
small reservoirs which, after rain, may, in some cases, hold many hundred
gallons of water. The Rock--or Namma-holes (I presume "Namma" is a native
name, but of this I am uncertain) are usually more or less conical in
shape, and vary in depth from a few inches to twenty feet, and in diameter
from half a foot to several. Their sides are smooth, and slope down to a
rounded bottom, where stones are often found which would suggest that they
have had something to do with the formation of these peculiar holes.
Beneath a hard surface layer the rock becomes decomposed and comparatively
soft; and doubtless the rain of countless ages collecting round the
stones, once on the surface and now found at the bottom of the holes, has
at length weathered away the rock, and so by slow degrees the stone
has ground out an ever-increasing hollow. I am neither geologist nor
dentist, but I have often likened in my mind the formation of the
Namma-holes to the gradual hollow formed by decay in a tooth. Whatever
their history, their use is unquestionable--not so the flavour of their
contents; for every bird or beast coming to water will leave some traces
behind, and the natives, to prevent evaporation, throw in sticks, stones,
and grass. Such a collection of rubbish and filth might naturally be
supposed to render the water unhealthy, but apparently this is not the
case, for we have often been forced to drink water, which, in
civilisation would be thought only fit to be used as manure for the
garden, without any injury to health or digestion. Patient search over the
whole surface of the rock is the usual method for finding rock-holes,
though sometimes the pads of wallabies, kangaroos, or emus, may serve as a
guide to them, but game is so scarce that a man must usually trust to his
own observation. Sometimes their existence may be detected from a distance
by the patch of rock round the mouth showing white, owing to its being
worn by the feet of birds and animals.

A typical rock was the high, barren "Cowarna," and one that after rain
would store in its depressions a plentiful supply of the life-giving
water. Thankful for small mercies, I made the best of a bad job, and,
having no dish or bucket from which to give Satan a drink, I was obliged
to make him lie down close to the narrow hole, whilst into his willing
throat I poured the water which at arm's length I scooped up with my
quart pot. This tedious process finished, I still had a potful at my
disposal, so, taking a long drink myself, I stripped off my clothes and
indulged in a shower bath, Not a luxurious bathe certainly, and a larger
supply would have been acceptable, but every little helps, and even a few
drops of fresh water have a pleasant effect on one's body made sticky by
the salt of the water from the lakes, and serve to remind the traveller
that he has once been clean.

Leaving the rock at sundown I travelled well into the night, for progress
was slow through the scrub and trees in the darkness, but little relieved
by the light of a waning moon. Feeling sure that I had gone far enough,
I was preparing to rest awhile and find our camp in the morning, when the
welcome glow of a fire shot up through the branches. Jim and Paddy, with
characteristic thought and resource, had climbed to the top of two tall
and dead gum trees and there built fires, fanned by the fierce draught
through the hollow trunks, knowing well at what a short distance a fire on
the ground is visible in this flat country. During my absence they had
found no gold, but, as they liked the look of the country, we decided to
return to our condensers for a fresh supply of water. Having obtained
this, Egan and I revisited our previous prospecting ground, leaving Jim
behind to "cook" water against our return; and a more uninteresting
occupation I cannot well picture. Camped alone on a spit of sand,
surrounded by a flat expanse of mud, broiled by the sun, half blinded by
the glare of the salt, with no shade but a blanket thrown over a rough
screen of branches, and nothing to do but to stoke up the fires, change
the water in the cooling-trough, and blow off the salt from the bottom of
the boilers, he was hardly to be envied. Yet Jim cheerfully undertook the
job and greeted us on our return, after four days, with the smiling remark
that his work had been varied by the necessity of plugging up the bottom
of one of the boilers which had burned through, with a compound (a patent
of his own) formed from strips of his shirt soaked in a stiff paste of
flour. That night we were astonished by the passage of a flight of ducks
over our heads, which Egan saw, and I and Conley heard distinctly.

A detailed account of our wanderings would be as wearying to the reader as
they were to ourselves, a mere monotonous repetition of cooking water and
hunting for "colours" which we never found. Christmas Eve, 1894, saw us in
the vicinity of Mount Monger, where a few men were working on an alluvial
patch and getting a little gold. A lucky storm had filled a deep clay-hole
on the flat running north-west from the hills, and here we were at last
enabled to give the camels a cheap drink; for over six weeks we had not
seen a drop of fresh water beyond what, with infinite labour, we had
condensed, with the one exception of the small rock-hole I found at
Cowarna. My entry in my journal for Christmas Day is short and sweet:
"Xmas Day, 1894. Wash clothes. Write diary. Plot course." We had no
Christmas fare to make our hearts glad and but for the fortunate arrival
of my old friend David Wilson, who gave us a couple of packets of
cornflour, would have had a scanty feast indeed.

Even in the remote little mining camp Santa Claus did not forget us, and
spread his presents, in the form of a deluge of rain, on all alike. What a
pleasant change to get thoroughly wet through! The storm hardly lasted
twenty minutes, but such was its violence that every little creek and
watercourse was soon running, and water for weeks to come was secured and
plentiful in all directions; but so local is a summer storm that five
miles from the camp, no water or signs of rain were to be seen. Our
provisions being finished, nothing remained but to make all speed for
Coolgardie, some fifty miles distant by road. Unencumbered by the
condensers, which were abandoned as useless since the bottom of both
boilers had burned through, we made fair time, reaching a good
camping-ground two miles from the town on the evening of the second day,
the 30th of December.




CHAPTER III



A FRESH START


Four days sufficed to make preparations for another trip, to hear and read
the news, and write letters. My first, of course, was to my Syndicate, to
report our past movements and future plans, and how I intended making
northward, hoping that change of direction would change our luck.

January 4th we set out with the same three camels, and rations for three
months. My plan was first to revisit some known good country to the south
of Hannan's, and, if unsuccessful, to travel from that point in a more or
less north-north-west direction, and so follow, instead of crossing, the
trend of the various formations; for in travelling from east to west, or
VICE VERSA, one crosses a succession of parallel belts, first a
sand-plain, then a ridge of granite, next a timbered flat, then a stretch
of auriferous country, with possibly a belt of flat salt-lake country on
either side. Since these parallel belts run nearly north-north-west, it
seemed to the mind of the untrained geologist that by starting in a known
auriferous zone, and travelling along it in a north-north-west direction,
the chances of being all the time in auriferous country would be
increased, and the plan worth trying.

Passing the homestead of the Hampton Plains Land Company, where I was
given valuable information and a map by the courteous and kind manager,
Mr. Anderson (now alas! dead, a victim to the typhoid scourge), we
continued on the Lake Lefroy road as far as the Fourteen Mile rock-hole.
This contained water, but so foul that the camels would not look at it.
Nor were we more successful in our next water-hole, for it contained a
dead horse. Leading to this Namma-hole, which was prettily situated on a
low rock at the foot of a rough, broken ridge of granite, surrounded by
green and shady kurrajongs, we found a curious little avenue of stones.
These were piled up into heaps laid in two parallel rows, and at intervals
between the heaps would be a large boulder; evidently this was the work of
aboriginals, but what meaning to attach to it we could not think. The
beginning of our journey promised well for water, for we were again
favoured by a local thunderstorm which, in clay-pans and swamps, left a
plentiful supply. Mr. Anderson had told me of some hills in which he had
found gold in small quantities, and sure enough wherever we tried a "dish
of dirt," colours were sure to result. A pleasant camp was this, plenty of
water, numberless quartz reefs, every prospect of finding payable gold,
and feed of the best kind in profusion--a welcome change for our beasts.
They were shedding the last of their winter coats, and, as the weather was
hot, I hastened the transformation by pulling off great flakes of wool
with which Egan stuffed one of the saddles. Poor Misery had an
uncomfortable experience here in consequence of catching the rings of his
hobble-chain in the broken stump of a bush, so that he was held captive
all night.

The advance of civilisation was marked by the appearance of a small herd
of bullocks, evidently stragglers from "Hannan's," and had we been further
from that place I do not doubt that our desire for fresh beef might have
overcome our conscientious scruples. Virtue, however, was rewarded, for on
awakening one morning I saw advancing towards our camp, with slow and
solemn curiosity, two emus, peering now this way, now that, examining our
packs and other gear with interest and delight. Choosing the younger bird,
I took aim with my Winchester, and dropped him; the report of the rifle
startled my companions from their sleep with the thought that we were
perhaps attacked by the blacks, for emus are even less numerous than they.
But their surprise was not greater than that of the surviving bird, as he
gazed spellbound at his dead mate, whom we found most excellent eating.
Great as the temptation was to have a shot at the remaining bird, I
resisted it, as from the one we could get sufficient meat for our
requirements, and it seemed a shame to take the life, for mere pleasure,
of the only wild creature we had seen for many weeks.

Tiring at length of prospecting reefs, blows, and alluvial with no better
result than an occasional pin's-head of gold, we turned our faces to the
north, passing again the herd of cattle wallowing in the swamps and pans
of rain water.

Clay-pans usually occur in the neighbourhood of salt lakes, and are merely
shallow depressions with smooth clay bottoms. Though as a rule not more
than a few inches to a foot in depth, I have seen them in places holding
four to five feet of water. Immediately after rain all clay-pans are
fresh, before long some will turn salt; those containing drinkable water
are often distinguishable by the growth of cane grass which covers the
bed, a coarse, rush-like grass of no value as food for stock. Dry for
three-quarters of the year, these pans, with their impervious bottoms,
hold the rain, when it fills them, for a considerable period.

Salt-water pans are pellucid and clear, as the inexperienced may find at
his cost. One thirsty day, having tramped many miles horse-hunting,
deceived by a crystal-clear sheet of water, I plunged in my head and
hands, and, before I realised my mistake, took a deep draught with most
unpleasant results. I have been more careful since that catastrophe. An
effective method of clearing muddy clay-pan water is by dropping into it a
sort of powdery gypsum, called "Kopi" by the natives, which is usually to
be found round the margin of the salt lakes--a wonderful provision
of Nature, without which the water after a short time would be useless,
becoming as it does red and thick, and of the consistency of strong cocoa.
Amongst the many industries started on the goldfields is the novel
occupation of clearing clay-water for salt. The process was carried out by
means of a series of settling tanks, into which the water was led by
drains, and into the last tank the kopi was thrown; the cleared water was
then bailed into vessels or casks, and carted up to whatever mining camp
was being thus supplied.

Whilst on the subject of industries, I may mention that of obtaining
solder from meat-tins by piling them into large heaps and lighting a fire
over them. The melted lumps of solder thus formed were collected by the
ordinary process of dry-blowing, and sold to tinsmiths and others engaged
in the manufacture of condensers. Certainly the scarcity of water was not
an unmixed curse, for it gave employment to many who would otherwise have
been hard put to it to gain a living. Dam-makers, well-sinkers,
water-carters, tinsmiths, condenser-fitters, wood-cutters, employees on
condensing plants, water-bag makers, caretakers at Government wells, dams,
and soaks, engineers, and many more, all found employment either directly
or indirectly in connection with water supply.

By sinking in the bed of dry clay-pans water can usually be obtained, but
unfortunately it is almost sure to be salt. The difference between
clay-pans before and after rain is most marked. First we have the dry,
hard bed of red clay, blistered and cracked into all manner of patterns by
the sun's heat; around us the stillness of death, nothing astir unless it
be the constant shimmering haze of heat which strikes our faces like the
blast from a furnace. Rain falls, and within a few hours the air will be
filled with the croaking of frogs and the cackling of ducks.* To my mind
it is one of the most incomprehensible things in Nature that wildfowl
(for not only ducks, but sometimes swans and geese are seen) know when and
where rain has fallen.

[* Sir John Forrest, in his exploration of 1874, found ducks, geese, and
swans on Lake Augusta--a salt lake in the arid interior, five hundred
miles from the coast.]

But, stranger still, how do they know it is going to fall? That they would
seem to do so the following will go to show. Whilst we were condensing on
Lake Lapage, one moonlight night we saw a flight of ducks fly over us to
the northward. No surface water then existed anywhere near us. This was on
December 16th. No rain fell in the district until December 25th, but I
ascertained afterwards that rain fell at Lake Carey, one hundred miles
north of Lake Lapage about the same date that we had seen the ducks. The
exact date I am not sure of, but in any case the ducks either foresaw the
rain or knew that rain had fallen at least two hundred miles away; for
they must have come from water (and at that season there was no surface
water within one hundred miles of us) and probably from the coast. In
either case, I think it is an extremely interesting fact, and however they
arrive the ducks are a welcome addition to the prospector's "tucker-bags."




CHAPTER IV



A CAMEL FIGHT


Leaving Hannan's on our left, we continued our northerly course, over flat
country timbered with the usual gum-forest, until we reached the
auriferous country in which our camp had been robbed by the blacks;
nothing of interest occurring until January 17th, when we found ourselves
without water. Knowing that we must soon strike the road from Broad Arrow
to Mount Margaret, this gave us no anxiety, and, beyond the necessity of
travelling without having had a drink for eighteen hours, but little
discomfort.

We struck the road as expected, and, following it some five miles, came to
a small, dry creek running down from a broken range of granite. Sinking in
its bed, we got a plentiful supply. Mosquitoes are very rarely found in
the interior, but on this little creek they swarmed, and could only be
kept away by fires of sticks and grass, in the smoke of which we slept.

From the granite hills a fine view to the eastward was obtained, across a
rich little plain of saltbush and grass, and dotted here and there over it
was a native peach tree, or "quondong," a species of sandalwood. We had
now left the timber behind us, its place being taken by a low, straggling
scrub of acacia, generally known as "Mulga," which continues in almost
unbroken monotony for nearly two hundred miles; the only change in the
landscape is where low cliffs of sandstone and ranges of granite, slate,
or diorite, crop up, from which creeks and watercourses find their way
into salt swamps and lakes; and occasional stretches of plain country.

Through these thickets we held on our course, passing various
watering-places and rocks on the several roads leading to the then popular
field of Mount Margaret.

All such rocks bear names given to them by travellers and diggers, though
one can seldom trace the origin or author of the name, "Black Gin Soak,"
"George Withers' Hole," "The Dead Horse Rocks," and the "Donkey Rocks,"
are fair samples.

It was at the last named that we had a slight entertainment in the shape
of a camel-fight. On arrival we found another camel-man (i.e., a man who
prospects with camels instead of horses, not necessarily a camel-driver)
in whose train was a large white bull. Misery, with his usual precocity,
at once began to show fight. The owner of the white camel, a gentleman
much given to "blowing," warned me that his bull was the "strongest in
the ---- country," and advised me to keep my camels away. Anxious to see
how Misery would shape in a genuine bout, I paid no heed, but took the
precaution to remove his hobbles, thus placing him on equal terms with his
older and stronger adversary.

Before very long they were at it hammer and tongs, roaring and grunting to
the music of the bells on their necks; wrestling and struggling, using
their great long necks as flails, now one down on his knees and almost
turned over, and now the other, taking every opportunity of doing what
damage they could with their powerful jaws, they formed a strange picture.
Misery was nearly exhausted, and the white bull's master in triumph
shouted, "Take 'em off, beat 'em off; your ---- camel'll be chewed up!"
But no! With a last expiring effort, brave little Misery dived his long
neck under the body of his enemy, and grabbed his hind leg by the fetlock,
when a powerful twist turned him over as neatly as could be. It was now
time for us to interfere before the white bull's head was crushed by his
conqueror's knees and breast-bone. With sticks and stones we drove him
off, and the white bull retired abashed--but not more so than his master.

Leaving the rocks in possession of our late adversary we once more plunged
into the scrub, altering our course to the west with the object of
revisiting the country around Mount Ida, where Luck and I had found
colours. Our way lay between salt lakes on our left, and a low terrace or
tableland of what is locally known as "conglomerate" on our right. At the
head of a gully running from this we were fortunate in finding water,
sufficient to fill our casks, and give each camel a drink. This was on the
morning of January 25th, and until the 31st about noon we saw no further
signs of water. Every likely place was dry. Where Luck and I had found
water before, not a drop of moisture could be seen; the holes contained
nothing but the feathers and skeletons of disappointed birds. Unable to
stop at Mount Ida without packing water twenty-five miles, which the
prospects of the country did not warrant, we turned northwards across much
broken granite country, which we vainly searched for Namma-holes or soaks.
Far ahead of us we could see sharp pinnacles, standing up high and
solitary above the scrub. These turned out to be huge blows of white
quartz, and were no doubt connected underground, for we traced them a
distance of nearly thirty miles. Interesting as these were, our thoughts
were turned to water-hunting, for the weather--the season being
midsummer--was scorching; the poor camels, sore-footed from the stony
granite, parched with thirst, and forced to carry their loads, eight to
twelve hours a day, showed signs of distress. Weary and footsore
ourselves, tramping at full speed all day over the burning rocks, one with
the camels, the others on either hand, scouting, our casks all but empty,
our position was not enviable.

The night of the 30th our water was finished. The nearest known to us was
thirty-five miles off, and a a salt lake was between--a sufficient bar to
our hopes in that direction. Matters were by no means desperate, however,
for thirty miles north we were bound to cut the Cue-Mount Margaret road,
and having done so it would be merely a question of time, with a certainty
of arriving at a watering place eventually, if we and our camels could
hold out. A dry stage, however long, with the certainty of relief at the
end of it, gives little cause for anxiety when compared with one on which
neither the position nor even the existence of water can be known.

Next morning we followed up a small creek, and on crossing saw the tracks
of several kangaroos and emus making towards two peaks of quartz. Here was
our chance. It was my place of course to go, but I yielded to the
persuasion of Paddy and Jim, who insisted that I had denied myself water
to eke out our scanty supply (though I doubt if I had done so more than
they), and must rest. So, putting the camels down in the welcome shade of
a kurrajong, I lay down beside them and was presently relieved by the
sound of a revolver-shot, our signal that water was found.

What a beautiful sight it was! Nestling in the hollow between two great
white blows of quartz, this little pool of crystal-clear water, filled
evidently by a little gully falling over a steep ledge of quartz beyond,
presented no doubt a pretty picture after the rains. A soakage it must be,
for no open rock-hole could hold water in such terrible heat; and its
clearness would suggest the possibility of an underlying spring. A popular
drinking-place this, frequented by birds of all kinds, crows, hawks,
pigeons, galahs, wee-jugglers, and the ubiquitous diamond-sparrows. During
the night we could hear wallabies hopping along, but were too worn out to
sit up to shoot them. Though our sufferings had not been great, we had had
a "bit of a doing."

One day's rest, occupied in various mendings of clothes, boots, and
saddles, and we were off again to the north, cutting the track as
expected, and presently found ourselves at the newly established mining
camp of Lawlers, prettily situated on the banks of a gum-creek, with a
copious supply of water in wells sunk in its bed. A great advantage that
the northern fields have over those further south is the occurrence of
numerous creeks, sometimes traceable for over thirty miles, in all of
which an abundance of fresh water can be obtained by sinking at depths
varying from fifteen to fifty feet.

Towards the end of their course the well-defined channels, with banks
sometimes ten feet high, disappear, giving place to a grassy avenue
through the scrub, lightly timbered with cork-bark, and other small trees.
It is on such flats as these that the wells are sunk. All creeks find
their way into the lakes, though seldom by a discernible channel, breaking
and making, as the expression is, until a narrow arm of the lake stretches
to meet them. At the most these creeks run "a banker" three times during
the year, the water flowing for perhaps three days; after which pools of
various sizes remain, to be in their turn dried up by evaporation and
soakage. In the dry weather the creeks afford a weird spectacle. Stately
white gums (the only timber of any size in these districts), with their
silvery bark hanging in dishevelled shreds around the branchless stems,
bend ghost-like over an undulating bed of gravel; gravel made up of
ironstone pebbles, quartz fragments, and other water-worn debris washed
down from the hills at the head of the creeks.

What a marvellous transformation the winter rains cause! It is then that
the expert, or journalist, takes his walks abroad; it is then that we read
such glowing accounts of rich grass lands, watered by countless creeks,
only awaiting the coming of an agriculturist to be turned into smiling
farms and fertile fields.

Numerous parties were camped at Lawlers, with some two hundred horses
turned out in the bush, waiting until rain should fall. Though with no
better feed than grass, dry and withered, the freedom from work had made
them skittish. What a pretty sight it is to see a mob of horses trooping
in for water at night; the young colts kicking up their heels with
delight; the solemn old packhorse looking with scorn on the gambols of his
juvenile brethren, with a shake of his hardy old head, as much as to say,
"Ah! wait till you've done the dry stages that I have; wait till you make
your evening feed off mulga scrub and bark--that'll take the buck out of
you! Why can't you have your drink soberly, instead of dancing about all
over the place?"

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