19 March 1936

ACROSS AUSTRALIA FIFTY YEARS AGO

David Lindsay's Trip To The Barkly Tableland in 1886

This article has been written from a letter which G. S. Lindsay, sent from Austral Downs, on the Herbert River, in April, 1886, after he had crossed the continent from south to north as a member of the party led by David Lindsay, who was sent to the Northern Territory by the South Australian Government to survey the boundaries of the cattle stations on the Barkly tableland. The leader is referred to as Dave; Glyde, Warman, and Leech were members of the party, and Dietrich was a German scientist, who accompanied them on behalf of the Baron von Muller.

"We left Dalhousie station on a Saturday afternoon, with a native named Long Charley, to guide us to Neringa well, on the Finke River. Dave did not accompany us on this first stage of the trip; he went across to Charlotte Waters, arranging to meet us at the well. We reached Neringa two days later, but found that rains had filled the well with sand, so we had to do a lot of sinking before we reached the water. Dave arrived next morning, and we spent the rest of the day making sure that we had everything ready for crossing the unknown sandhill country which lies between us and the Tod. We filled every available container with water, even to our air pillows, and startled off next morning, February 3.

"We first crossed a wide, sandy plain, traversed some of the sandhills, and camped for the night, starting off again at daylight next morning. We soon saw that we had undertaken a terrible task, for as far as the eye could see was nothing but wave after wave of almost perpendicular sandhills, covered with spinifex as thick as it could grow. It was as much as our heavily loaded camels could do to climb the steep slopes of loose sand, and down in the hollows between them the heat of the sun was awful. We were all exhausted when we camped at dusk. We pushed on again at day break, but by midday it was plain that we had no earthly chance of getting through, our camels had had neither food nor water since leaving the Finke, and climbing up and down those sandhills was enough to kill an animal with twice the strength of a camel.

"We were all very put out at having to turn back; and cursed our ill luck, but we have since concluded that it was the only thing to do; had we kept on our bones would be bleaching on some sandhill ere this. We turned the camels loose for a few hours, gave each, a bucket of water from the kegs at sunset, loaded them up, and started back over our tracks again. All through the night and all the following day we toiled over those dreadful sandhills, and reached Neringa well at midnight on the 8th. We had hardly any water left when we reached it, so our attempt to find a short cut to the Tod nearly, ended in disaster.

"We started off again on the 10th, this time with the intention of reaching, the Tod via the MacDonnell Ranges. We went by way of the Goyder and Crown Point, thence to the Finke again, resting at a large permanent water for two days. From a nearby hill we had a good view of Chamber's Pillar, a tall and strange looking column of rock. In two days' time we reached the ranges, to find the going terribly rough. The days were very hot, yet the nights were bitterly cold. When we reached the Tod we found everything parched and dry, with no signs of water. All next day we followed the Tod, but still saw no signs of water, and by evening our camels were in a bad way, as six days had elapsed since they had last drunk. We unloaded them, put everything save Dave's instruments into a heap, covered it with a tarpaulin, and pushed on to find water. At eight o'clock we struck the junction of the Giles, and turned up it; towards midnight we saw a small fire burning in the bed of the river. This made us very hopeful, for a fire meant natives, and natives meant water. Dave crawled up to the fire with his revolver in his hand, hoping to grab a native as he lay asleep. We would have kept him until morning, then got him to lead us to water. But to our great disappointment the fire was only a log which had been smouldering since natives had burnt the country some time previously.

"We camped until dawn, then Dave took the strongest camel and set off alone to find water. Poor old Joorak, our Afghan camel driver, was very ill, so we rigged a shelter for him to protect him from the sun. We tried to as sure each other that there must be water somewhere in the ranges, and that we were bound to strike it, but things were looking very serious. If water was not found within twenty four hours we were done for. However, at two o'clock Dave returned, with the welcome news that he had located a small pool of water at the bottom of a rockhole. We immediately saddled up and set off, to find the waterhole, after passing through a rugged gap in the ranges. The water was thick and dirty, with room to water only two camels at a time, and we had an awful job to hold the poor brutes back to await their turn. I thought they would never stop drinking.

"That afternoon, towards sunset, we heard blacks in the hills above, and after a bit of trouble we managed to persuade two of them to come down talk to us. We found that they spoke a dialect very similar to that of the Dalhousie natives, so we were able to talk to them. They promised to come back and act as guides next day. Next morning, Warman, Joorak and Glyde went back with the camels to pick up our belongings, and the natives kept their promise to return. They informed us that there was plenty of water to the north-east, and that one waterhole, called Aludwundwa, was very big. We started for it when the camels re turned, but when we reached Aludwundwa we discovered that it held only a little puddle of putrid water, though the marks on the sides showed that in normal years it held quite a lot. Our dusky guides were not much put out at the discovery; they told us to follow them to the Ulinga water hole, which never failed.

"We found that the Ulinga water hole owed its presence to a mineral spring in the side of a cliff. We camped there that night and next day continued our trip over the rugged hills, with our two dusky guides stalking ahead. They led us to a large rockhole of beautiful water. We camped at another water a little farther on. As the night was bitterly cold, Dietrich gave one native an old pair of trousers, and I lent him a blanket; Glyde lent the other one a camp sheet to roll himself in. At daybreak we found that both the natives were missing. So were the trousers, blanket and campsheet. Fortunately, Dave had obtained instructions as to the route which we should follow when he was talking to them the previous night.

"We accordingly set off to follow the creek through the ranges to the big waterholes, where the main camps of the natives were situated, according to our vanished guides. The creek led us to the Hale River, but we found it dry. We followed it for two days, and on the third obtained water by sinking a hole in the sandy bed. A few days later we turned a bend in the river and came upon a beautiful gorge where the sand in the river bed was red in places with little rubies. There were big pools of water along the bed of the gorge, which Dave named Glen Annie, after his wife, and, as we discovered it on the anniversary of his wedding day, he named a nearby hill Mt. Coglan after the minister who had officiated at the ceremony. After leaving the glen we continued on our way through the ranges, to come at last to a wide plain, with the Plenty River in the distance. But there was no water at the spot marked on Winnecke's plan. Our casks were nearly empty, so we left the stores in charge of Leech and Warman while we scouted around for water.

"Just before dark, Dave found a little soak under a rock. We worked at sinking a well all next day, shovelling out sand by the ton, but we obtained enough water to fill the kegs and give the camels a drink. We went back to the Plenty and followed it, to come across emu and native tracks just as the sun was setting. We were thinking of halting to camp when we came across two little native girls, who shrieked and fled. Dave rode after them on Lukoul and they crouched in terror when they found the camel too fast for them; they had never seen camels or white men before, and were nearly frightened to death. We pitched camp and kept a double watch over the two children all night, with wild natives prowling around in the darkness beyond the glow of our fires. By daybreak the kiddies had lost all fear of us; after breakfast they led us straight to a waterhole and pointed out where the next water lay. We left them a few little gifts; as we rode off I looked back, to see them sucking sugar we had given them and staring after us.

"We struck across country in the direction which they had pointed out, to come to the Marshall, where we found both water and native camps. A lad offered to guide us to three fine waterholes, did so, and then ran away when nobody was watching him. By this time our provisions were nearly done; we had only a couple of square inches of damper a meal per man, helped out by any lizards or rats we could catch or dig out.

"But we were nearing the end of our journey; a few days later we came across cattle tracks, then saw the cattle. Shortly after crossing the border into Queensland we struck a waggon track, which we followed. It led us to Lake Nash station, where we were warmly welcomed by Mr. Farrow, the manager. It was a great treat to have a square meal again, but the greatest blessing of all was to have a swim in the lake and to wash our filthy clothing. We found letters and newspapers awaiting us from home, and we were shocked to read of how bad things are in Adelaide at pre sent. When the survey is over I think I'll get a job on one of the stations here, rather than return to Adelaide while there is so much unemployment there and business is so bad. You will be able to hear from me frequently from now on, as there is a fortnightly mail. After a few enjoyable days at Lake Nash, we came on here to Austral Downs. Dave is now taking his observations and we expect to start the survey on Monday next, April 12.

"It was a rough, hard trip, but a great experience. I bet few boys of my age can say that they have been right across Australia, and have been to places where white men have never been before. The climate here is very healthy — no fever, and with beautiful weather all through the dry season, which is just beginning. I never felt better in my life.'— H.A.L.

Suicide That Slipped

Two old bushmen used to share a hut to which they had retired on the savings of a lifetime spent in droving, and they got along well together for years. One day Jack, despite his 76 years, went into town for provisions, but ended up on a spree instead. His mate Jim, worried by his absence, came over to our place to enquire if any thing had been seen of Jack.

We had not seen anything of him, and I offered to keep Jim company until his mate returned. As I was idly turning over the pages of a newspaper, I noticed a pencilled note between the margins of the centre page. It read—

'Dear Jim— I'm tired of everything and I'm going to finish it all. I've had a nip of whisky to steady myself, for it, and you'll find a cheque drawn out in the bread box to bury me.' The neighbors hastily organised a search party, while someone telephoned the police station.

Towards daylight the police came across Jack sleeping his troubles off by a waterhole. When he was asked about the note, he promptly denied any knowledge of it, and said that it must have been due to him being overcome by a nip of whisky he had taken for a cold. He had gone into the town for more whisky, and remembered nothing more until the sergeant shook him. The police drove Jack home, and explained matters to Jim, asking him what he thought they should do. Tears, sprang into Jack's eyes.

'Remember, Jim,' he pleaded, 'I'm seventy-six, and I've never been in the hands of the police before!' 'You crazy old fool, you need a lesson for keeping everybody up all night like this,' answered Jim, and I'm going to give it to you. Put him into the hospital for a fortnight, sergeant, and I'll see that he pays for the treatment.'

The broken-hearted Jack was driven off to serve the sentence Jim had imposed, and it must have proved a chastening form of penance, for he was never known to touch a drop of whisky again.— 'Greenhide.'

Real Life Stories Of South Australia (1936, March 19). Chronicle (Adelaide, SA : 1895 - 1954), p. 16. http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article92336481