In honour of the
occasion I called this Tietkens's Birthday Creek, and hereby proclaim
it unto the nations that such should be its name for ever. The camp
was not moved, but Mr. Tietkens and I rode over to the high mountain
to-day, taking with us all the apparatus necessary for so great an
ascent--that is to say, thermometer, barometer, compass, field
glasses, quart pot, waterbag, and matches. In about four miles we
reached its foot, and found its sides so bare and steep that I took
off my boots for the ascent. It was formed for the most part like a
stupendous turtle back, of a conglomerate granite, with no signs of
water, or any places that would retain it for a moment, round or near
its base. Upon reaching its summit, the view was most extensive in
every direction except the west, and though the horizon was bounded in
all directions by ranges, yet scrubs filled the entire spaces between.
To the north lay a long and very distant range, which I thought might
be the Gill's Range of my last expedition, though it would certainly
be a stretch either of imagination or vision, for that range was
nearly 140 miles away.
To the north-westward was a flat-topped hill, rising like a table from
an ocean of scrub; it was very much higher than such hills usually
are.
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