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Updated: June 4, 2025
Stuart's horses were now very lame, as the stony ground had worn out their shoes, and they had no spare sets with them. Failing, therefore, to find the promised land of Wingillpin, although he had passed over much good and well-watered country, and had also found Chambers' Creek, he turned south-west, and made some explorations in the neighbourhood and to the west of Lake Gairdner.
This he was unable to find, and came to the somewhat strange conclusion that Wingillpin and Cooper's Creek were one and the same, although so widely separated, as he well knew. He also seems to have entertained broad notions of the extent of Cooper's Creek, as in one part of his journal at this period he remarks: "My only hope now of cutting Cooper's Creek is on the other side of the range.
I take this emphatic snapping of his fingers to mean a long distance. Probably this Wingillpin may be Cooper's Creek. We then left him, and proceeded on our way through the sand hills. About an hour before sunset, we came in full sight of a number of tent and table-topped hills to the north-west, the stony table land being to the south of us, and the dip of the country still towards Lake Torrens.
My doubt of the black fellow's knowledge of the country is now confirmed; he seems to be quite lost, and knows nothing of the country, except what he has heard other blacks relate; he is quite bewildered and points all round when I ask him the direction of Wingillpin. I have determined to push into the westward, keeping a little north of west.
When close under the bush, I told our black to inquire if he were a Wingillpin native. He was so frightened he could not utter a word, and trembled from head to foot. We then asked him where Wingillpin was. He mustered courage to let go one hand, and emphatically snapping his fingers in a north-west direction, again waved us off.
Bearing 292 degrees for five miles, sand hills; thence 327 degrees to a table-hill nine miles. Camped without water. Our route to-day has been through sand hills, with a few miles of stones and dry reedy swamp, all well grassed, but no water. We came across some natives, who kept a long distance off. I sent our black up to them, to ask in which direction Wingillpin lay.
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