I had always looked upon this as an excellent and
desirable spot for an encampment, though we had never used it yet. The
grass, however, is neither good nor abundant; the country around being
stony and sterile, except down the immediate valley of the channel,
which was not wide enough to graze a mob of horses for long. We
reached it again on the 9th of April.
My reader will remember that in January I had found a creek with a
large, rocky tarn of water, which I called the Circus; it was the last
westerly water on the range, and I was anxious to know how it was
holding out, as it must be our point of departure for any farther
efforts to the west. It was twenty miles from here, and Gibson and I
rode up the range to inspect it. On our road we revisited the Gorge of
Tarns; the water there had shrunk very much. Here we had left some
useless articles, such as three pack-saddle frames, a broken
thermometer, and sundry old gear; all these things the natives had
carried away. I had a good swim in the old tarn, and proceeded,
reaching the Circus early in the afternoon. There was the solitary
eagle still perched upon its rock. The water had become greatly
reduced; ten weeks and two days had elapsed since I was here; and in
another fortnight it would all be gone.
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