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Updated: September 7, 2025
Changed my course to the north-east to examine a white clay-pan that I thought might contain some fresh water. At three miles came upon it, and was very much disappointed to find it salt. This being the second day that the horses have been without water, I must give up the search for springs and return to one mile south of the Douglas, where we had found a little rain water.
This is the spring, fed at the bottom of the basin from some subterranean source by a narrow tunnel in the rock, a natural drain, not six inches in diameter. Through this passage, from the West, the water rises, filling the rocky basin, and evidently at some seasons bubbling over and filling the clay-pan which abuts on it on the Western side.
More than half of the horses are missing this morning; at noon we have managed to get all but ten; they are scattered all over the place; at 5 p.m. they cannot be found, and the water is nearly all gone, and the country much dried towards Strangway range. I have sent the horses four miles back to a large clay-pan that we saw yesterday, to remain there to-night and in the morning to return.
On the East side of the spring is an open space of sand; surrounding it and the clay-pan is a luxuriant growth of pig-face a finger-like plant, soft, squashy, and full of moisture, but salt; it is commonly seen on the margin of salt-lakes. Beyond the pig-face, tussocks of grass and buck-bush, beyond that again a mass of ti-tree scrub extending to the foot of the sandhills.
In a watery season it must be well covered with grass; the old grass is lying between the salt bushes. At ten miles, in the sand hills, we have again a view of Flinders range. The bearings are: Mount North-west, 78 degrees 35 minutes; Mount Deception, 107 degrees. At fourteen and a half miles we found a clay-pan of water, with beautiful green feed for the horses.
He was perishing from thirst, and, at the last gasp, he came to a clay-pan which, to his despair, was quite dry and baked hard by the sun. He gave up all hope; not so his black-boy, who, after examining the surface of the hard clay, started to dig vigorously, shouting, "No more tumble down, plenty water here!"
Travelling due West across the creek on which we were camped, they found a large clay-pan, and were then hourly expecting to cross the Sutherland Range. However, no range was seen, only high sandhills. That Breaden's reckoning was correct was soon proved, for he and I walked from our camp and six miles West found the big clay-pan and their camel tracks.
When everything looked at its worst, then all seemed to change for our benefit. We camped two miles from the water. Took the horses back to the water, and on our way there found a clay-pan with a few hundred gallons of water in it. Started back to meet the party, intending to await their arrival at the first range we came to on our outward track.
On the 4th we found a clay-pan, having a clay-hole at one end with some mud in it, and which the natives had but just left, but no water; then another, where, as thunderstorms were flying about in all directions, we dug out a clay tank. While at work our clothes were damped with a sprinkling, but not enough rain fell to leave any on the ground.
Farther along the creek a more scrubby region was found; the soil was soft after the rain, but no water was seen lying about. The creek seemed to be getting smaller; I did not like its appearance very much, so struck away north-west. The country now was all thick mulga scrub and grassy sandhills; amongst these we found a clay-pan with some water in it.
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