Part 3

A boggy little lake of salt water, its supply kept constant by one of the mound springs, first intruded itself; and on rounding its northern end I was amongst sandy undulations past which I could not see. Then a wide but not gum-lined creek, the nearer bank low, and one point occupied by half-a-dozen blacks' wurlies, like so many boats on end. The further bank was high and steep; and climbing over this I marked a course, which I judged would be due east, towards some bush-like objects in the distance. But these objects proved to be a small mob of wild-mannered cattle, which soon, racing towards me, pranced gaily around with uplifted tails. It is not fair to ask a man to persist in a due east course in such circumstances.

I grew fretful; looked at the time, the sun, and the shadows, but could only make a guess at the east. The guess, however, happened to be correct, and by evening I was in Coward, a township which consists chiefly of a public-house and--an anomaly indeed!--an interesting bore.

The bore at the Coward is situated in the heart of the little township, between the railway fences. The water wells up to the height of a dozen or more feet above the surface, and, wide-spreading over the end of a six-inch conducting pipe, feeds a tiny sparkling rivulet. This stream runs for several chains, and finally gives back the water to the desert ground.

* * * *

All these artesian waters are drinkable, but more or less brackish. There, as at most of the other bores, blind fish come up out of the artesian reservoirs--fish beyond a doubt, two or three inches long, but exhibiting not even rudimentary eyes.

This total absence of eyes is a curious fact in natural history; in the great dark caves of America the crayfish have eyes, though they are sightless. So also elsewhere. But "eyes would be no use to them in the blackness down under," the local cicerone says. Yet wherefore? Should they not rather be provided with unusually good eyes?

(Happy thought: when all else fails I will come hither and inaugurate the great Centralian Sardine industry.)

To the Blanche Springs and the Coward (a trifle over 500 miles) should be an interesting holiday cycle-journey for Adelaideans. They could time themselves to rail it back.

* * * *

Procured a fly-veil here. Should have had one before this; my eyes are already sore from the persistent attentions of swarming, irritating flies. Dinner; and then still northwards.

The Coward track, speaking generally, proved bad. Sand, loose stones; very rough, and ill defined. Terribly trying on the bicycle; but Diamond is staunch. We are fast friends already; and in the oppressive silence I find myself familiarly addressing the steel-ribbed skeleton with words of comfort and encouragement.

By the time I arrived at some cottages (The Beresford or Strangways Springs) it wanted only a couple of hours or so to sundown. Beyond loomed up sandhills, continuing, according to local accounts, in "an unbroken chain for fully five miles." As William Creek was my proposed destination for the day--or, rather, night--I went on, after having enjoyed the proverbial hospitality of another "travelling gang" of navvies.

When the railway cuttings were being put through these rolling hills, it was prophesied that in a very short time the loose sand would blow in again, and that its removal would be a constant source of expense. But by fencing off three chains or so on either side, cattle and horses were prevented from cutting up the surface; herbage grew, and the sand now shifts but little.

* * * *

Here snakes breed unmolested. I saw several as I dragged myself and Diamond along. On coming to a particularly steep hill, I resolved to keep on the railway metal, rather than go up. To my pleased surprise the ballast was of the gravelly sort for a few hundred yards, and I was able to mount and ride through the cutting between the rails.

Outside the cutting began a steep embankment, with a culvert so close to me that I was just about to dismount and lead the machine across, when a dark streak, stretching at right angles to the front wheel, filled my eye.

It seemed to me in the shadow (the sun was low down in the horizon, and out of sight behind the sandhills) that a rabbit had from the centre kicked the loose pebbly material over the rails on either side; and not till I was within a foot of the thing did I make it out to be what it really was--a long snake.

I was too close to sprint. Of course I dared not stop. I had time only to mechanically lift on high both feet before I was on and over it. The next moment Diamond's front wheel struck one of the rails, and I was toppling down the embankment.

I was scratched and bruised, my clothes were torn, and I felt (as no doubt I was) pale. But on raising myself my first thought was for the bicycle. It had remained behind. There it was, lying contentedly on the side, with only the saddle and handle-bars showing over the embankment. Another yard further, and we should both have been precipitated over the culvert.

With what anxiety, with what eagerness, did I examine my companion! And what blessings were poured upon it when it proved staunch still--save that the handle-bars had turned a little in the socket. Not until I had taken all this in did it occur to me that I could only limp myself.

Pitch dark now, and no hope of moving on. A little faint, too; yet with no drop to drink. The need to camp; yet no shelter.

But I was callously weary, and without difficulty persuaded myself that I really didn't much care: the morrow would see me somewhere else.

At present I judged we were somewhere about Irrappatana.

* * * *

We moved on at daybreak and reached William Creek before that depot was astir. Depot! Alas, there was no bread here and no flour, and no corn in William Creek! But at the "accommodation house" some dough was standing to rise; it would not be baked, though, till mid-day. My supplications prevailed, however; some of the dough was mixed up into an inedible batter, and cooked with some chops.

Without delay we detoured to Anna Creek, a sheep station, which was reached before noon. The proprietor's invitation to dinner was accepted; for wherefore had I come to Anna Creek? I was ravenous. And the tea! Strong, rich, milk-toned tea! A feast, a feast for the gods!

Such cups I had never seen. Cups which, once having been drunk from by a famishing cyclist, would ever after figure in his happiest dreams. "Not so very large," protested my liberal host, deprecatingly; "they each hold only a quart." Yet I remember being asked "Try a little more tea?" as the meal progressed, and--fancy having answered "Ah, thanks!"

* * * *

At the Anna Creek homestead interesting experiments in irrigation are being carried out. Water is pumped by a windmill into tanks fixed on an elevated platform over a well, and thence circulated through convenient iron piping all round the dwelling house, and into the garden. Fruit trees, grapes, melons, &c., are grown luxuriantly. An oasis in the desert. A fore-runner, it may be, of great things.

The track was fairly good for a few miles, as it had also been on the other side of Warrina; but soon it became bad again, and so continued all the way to Mount Dutton. The wind, as usual, was also unfavorable.

* * * *

Towards Warrina (615 miles from Adelaide) there are some picturesque spots along the creek, going northwards. Then the track again becomes terribly stony--so demoniacally vile that, although I riskingly "cantered" over much of it, saying fervently in my bitterness "Get thee behind me," I nevertheless failed to reach Warrina that night.

Diamond was now little less than animate, and there really seemed need of excuses to it for my rough manner of proceeding. It might be best for both of us, in the long run, if it was severely tested before we left the vicinity of our cheery friends, the iron rails, I remarked propitiatingly; then fondly fed its bearings (of me and my fortunes also, I reflected) with an extra drop of soothing neatsfoot oil.

We camped at some deserted huts, foodless, yet contented--thanks to Anna Creek. And at 9.30 next morning the voucher book was signed at Warrina.

After leaving Warrina the track keeps close by the railway line; and a ganger, who was starting out on his tricycle, obligingly offered to give the bicycle and me a lift for a mile or two. This was my second and last chance to avail myself of such a suggestion. Of course, in view of my fixed determination, I again gratefully declined to act upon it.

At Algebuckina I said good-bye to the last of the "travelling gangs"; and a quarter of a mile on led Diamond over the high and otherwise remarkable bridge which spans Neale's River--a bridge said to be the longest in South Australia. Built of iron, 1900 ft. from end to end, in nineteen spans of one hundred feet each.

Please don't write to say that the Murray Bridge is longer: it may be.

At Mount Dutton railway siding is a most excellently-finished ground tank of fresh water. The road also from here to Wondellina is excellent. (To this latter homestead I had been advised to now shape a course.) Here at Wondellina are several natural springs of water, fresh as the memory of the station manager's welcome; bountiful as his splendid hospitality.

My intentions were well known now; and in view of that, and because of the handsome treatment which I had latterly received on the strength of the enterprise in which I was engaged, I felt that, no matter what happened, I could not turn back now. So reflecting I rode to Oodnadatta, tormented by the flies that by this time had almost blinded me. So it was "Spell-oh!" for four or five days to court recovery.

* * * *

Oodnadatta, the (some-day-to-be) Transcontinental Railway Terminus, is distant 688 miles from Adelaide. The township becomes visible, as a speck on a vast plain, long before the traveller arrives at it. It contains, besides a few dwelling houses, a fairly commodious hotel, two general stores, a smithy, and a butcher's shop. The water from the artesian bore, about half a mile out, is quite drinkable, and is said to possess curative properties. A small creek is formed by the overflow, wherein, as the water reaches the surface at a very high temperature, a resident or visitor may indulge in a hot, tepid or cold bath at his pleasure.

Some people have termed Oodnadatta "a howling wilderness." But to-day the wilderness is hidden beneath a carpet of upspringing green.

Camels and Afghans are amongst its distinguishing features. Most of the whites are horsey or camely men. I heard some swearing.

Blackfellows are numerous; some of them are employed to perform menial duties at the houses in the township. Lubras make at the most two garments (one covering the upper, the other the lower parts of the body) suffice for a complete costume. There are always several wurlies and camps of blacks in the vicinity. The employed blacks share their wages, tobacco, old clothes, and tucker with the unemployed; the latter also providing further for themselves as best they can.

* * * *

Caterpillars were plentiful. The blacks gather up tins full, and, roasting them, evolve a very succulent dish. A small nut-like root, found wherever grass was growing, was also greatly sought after. As they walk along the lubras are continually stooping, or darting ahead or aside to pick up something--lizards, caterpillars, seeds, roots, eatables of various kinds, which they secrete or stow away in pouches, pockets, or tin cans. The male nigger prefers to stay at home and keep the fire alight.

From Oodnadatta northwards niggers are to be seen wherever white men are, as well as at intermediate places.

The clothes worn by them become fewer by degrees if not beautifully less the farther inland one proceeds.

I am told that the subject of their conversation, and that which causes most of the laughter so common among them, is generally of a filthy character and with an immoral tendency. One would fancy the poor animals could find but little to laugh about in their miserable nomadic lives; but they are so easily made to giggle that one is driven to the conclusion that their natural humour is of the most elementary type.

* * * *

A council of the dusky ones called here to adjudicate upon my chances of getting through to Darwin arrived at the following decision:--"Wild blackfellow big one frightened. Him think it debble-debble an' run away all right. One time 'nother one think it (the bicycle) debble-debble, and throw it spear."

I had a look at some spears later on, and perceived how easily one of them might be so driven in as to puncture a fellow's tyre.

* * * *

Most of the inhabitants seemed to rather pity my case. They were of opinion I might, if determined succeed in reaching Alice Springs, in the MacDonnell ranges--and there find myself cornered. The district doctor (a gentleman well spoken of and respected by all) rather seriously advised me: "Be careful. Think well before you venture beyond 'The Alice.'"

But the time for thinking had passed; and I left Oodnadatta, though not in the best of spirits, with my eyes still weak, and with very hazy notions indeed of what there might be awaiting me in the country beyond.

* * * *

To Macumba the track, with the exception of a few miles of sand to finish up with, is fair for cycling on--low stony tablelands and a few small hills. The channel of the Alberga River is wide, sandy, and lined with healthy-looking gum trees. Water is generally to be found in the Stevenson River--another large gum-lined creek, on the northernmost bank of which Macumba store is situated.

This place is only 38 miles from Oodnadatta, but I remained here an afternoon and night, as there was prospect of gathering information as to the route. An obliging teamster who knew the country well worked out and presented me with a very useful map.

From here up everyone knows everybody else for hundreds of miles around; and no one has a large circle of acquaintance, even then.

* * * *

In the neighbourhood of Macumba snakes and snake-tracks are much in evidence. Between the Strangways sandhills and Alice Springs I rode over at the very least half a dozen reptiles. Each one acted in a way peculiar to its species or its mood, so that the traveller, not knowing in any case what may happen next, has the spice of excitement added to his journeyings. Yet no doubt one might pass through, and see no snakes at all. For many months of the year they are in hiding. The weather and the season must be propitious else they do not appear.

On leaving Macumba, continuing along by the Stevenson, sandy flats and low sandhills were encountered as far as the Government well (The Willow), 14 miles on. So also to the next well, Oolaballana (16 miles). Then very rough stony tablelands again.

* * * *

After getting out of the sand at a point where a branch track turns off to Dalhousie, I came upon one of that station's horse-teams. A midday meal was being prepared. There were two strapping blackfellows and a white boy whom I took to be 13 or 14 years of age. A wheat sack had been laid upon the ground, and on it had been placed a damper, corned beef, jam, knife and fork, and a pannikin. Saying "good-day" to the juvenile, I sat myself beside him. The niggers, gaping open-mouthed at the machine, were squatting in the shade of an adjacent tree. Three quart pots were standing pressed in against the burning wood of a newly lighted fire.

"Where's the boss?" I inquired after a few words.

The youth smiled. "I am the boss," he said, reaching an arm out towards a small linen tea bag, then standing up to throw half a handful into each quart pot. Cutting off a few slices from the damper, and sorting out "black's favorite" pieces of meat, he gave a low short whistle--and up marched the two sable attendants. To these he handed each his dole of "tucker"; they received it in sober silence.

"You wantem more, you sing out," he added as, taking with them two of the quart pots, they returned to their proper distance.

This custom of handing the blacks their allowance of food, or laying it on the ground and whistling for them to come and take it, prevails all through the country.

I admired this manly child's way exceedingly. In "bossing" them he spoke very civilly to the niggers, in a quiet, cool, masterful manner. He offered to load me up with bread and meat, but as I had resolved to break myself in to going on short commons I would accept nothing more than a couple of apples. The dray, I believe, had been down to Oodnadatta.

* * * *

"It's rough to Blood's Creek. I don't think you'll get there to-night," were the youth's parting words.

And he was right. It was a sweltering hot afternoon. Progress was slow; and at about 20 miles having to hurriedly dismount (for the hundredth time), my left foot came on one of the large loose stones, and turned under me. The jar so nearly put out the ankle joint that I was compelled to camp right where the mishap occurred.

Stretching out my sheet of waterproofing I made myself as comfortable as possible under the circumstances. Millions of flies; myriads of venomous mosquitoes. Hungry as usual, and feeling that if I had only one good long drink of water, hot, cold or lukewarm, I could die joyfully.

Waterproof sheeting is not conducive to good health especially if the night be cold. Because of the heat from one's body condensation sets in, with the result that the under side of the sheeting becomes a sheet of water. This discovery I made for myself on arising next morning; turning the waterproof over quickly, I greedily licked up, cat-like, all I could of the precious dew.

* * * *

To Blood's Creek Government Bore (38 miles from last camping place), sand ridges and very rough "gibber" country has to be cycled or walked over; but on nearing the creek the track greatly improves.

Thus far, gidea and mulga have been the trees most often met with, though the creeks have almost invariably been thickly lined with box and gum.

* * * *

Camped with the contractors for the bore, and overhauled the bicycle, though all the overhauling called for was the cleaning of the bearings. This I did by squirting kerosene through the lubricating holes, tilting the machine at a sharp angle, and revolving the wheels until the searching fluid had completed its cleansing work.

When the wheels are nicely adjusted, and the chain is at just the proper tension, and everything is running smoothly, it is a mistake to undo the parts. A good chain properly adjusted should ask for but very few attentions. I used to not take mine off, and only washed it occasionally with soap and warm water--leaning the bicycle well over so that the grease should not fall on the tyres. It worked best after a little greasy residue had collected around the sprocket.

I tore apart and re-made the joint in the air tube of the tyre, as it had started to leak slightly. Because of the hot sand and the heat generally, the solution in the tube joints rots away, providing a source of much annoyance, as such a leak is difficult to stop.

* * * *

It is 60 miles from Blood's Creek to Goyder's Well. The "going" is good to Charlotte Waters; thence along the telegraph line for 14 miles through heavy sand, next 6 miles of stony hills, followed by 6 miles of good track over Boggy Flat, and, lastly, 4 miles of small sand-hills. There is a better road to the west from the Charlotte, they say.

The Adminga is reached half-way between Blood's Creek and Charlotte Waters. Hard by the crossing there is a beautiful little pond of clear, cool rain-water--a deep, round hole sunk in the solid rock, with one large leafy tree leaning out over it, and sheltering it from lapping winds and sun alike.

* * * *

We are into the Northern Territory at last.

The Charlotte Waters telegraph station on the Transcontinental line (a large galvanized iron structure, close by which stand many small sheds and outhouses) is situated six miles across the border, on a slight elevation on the north boundary of the stony tablelands. From there horsemen coming from the south can be seen, with the aid of a telescope, while yet they are at a distance of seven miles.

It is no uncommon thing here for the thermometer to register as high as 124deg. in the shade for several days together. The annual rainfall averages about five inches. Many iron tanks, connected and standing at one end of the building, are filled from the waterholes of an adjacent creek in the rare times of plenty.

The voucher book was signed, and at once a start was made.

And then a rather unpleasant experience befel. I intended making for Goyder Waters; a track, it had been said, could be easily followed, and so I made but few inquiries. There was a cattle station 20 miles beyond the Goyder--perhaps I could reach even that. It was a mistake, though, to keep alongside the telegraph line--a sad mistake. For five or six miles I struggled with my burden over loose sand-hills. Surely this was not the passable track travellers had spoken of! The Macumba teamster's sketch was consulted--why, I had not been on the track at any time since leaving Charlotte Waters!

How far the sand stretched I did not know--as far as could be seen, at any rate. A fierce sun tormented me from above and blistering sand from beneath. The track must be found. I fought through the yielding sand, now pushing and again shouldering and here and there riding my bicycle, in a grim earnestness rarely experienced before. In those first half-dozen miles I had been prodigal of a precious quart of water. Now I was becoming parched beyond endurance.

Fourteen miles had been struggled over. The telegraph line had been long since lost. Was even this the track?

And Goyder Waters! What did I know of Goyder Waters? It dawned upon me now that I did not know whether to look for a rock-hole, a soakage, or a creek.

Now rough, hilly country interposes. It is still hard work, and the night is nearing. My thighs ache, and my tongue cleaves to my mouth. Yet on, doggedly on--it is the only hope.

A well! How we race towards it. No--a maddening mockery; it is a fenced-in grave!

Did he die?--

But it is dangerous to think. On, on!

At length, in the deepening haze of the twilight, the real well is seen.

At such a moment one forgets the teachings of experience. I threw myself down, and drank, and drank.

* * * *

And so, though saved, made another stinging lash for my aching back. For I drank and drank until I found myself seized with the most dreadful cramps I have ever had the satisfaction of getting the better of. On trying to rise I was, somewhat to my amusement, unable to do so, as during the tussle one of my bootlaces had become entangled with the hooks of the other, and the recurring cramps would not allow me to reach down to undo it. So I had willy-nilly to lay quiet where I had fallen, ignominiously hobbled and _hors de combat_.

It would not be particularly difficult for one who does not know the country to perish hereabouts. Just take the wrong turning, or meet with a disabling accident, or lose the indistinct track, and in one single hot day the business may be done. Solitary graves are plentiful. When a man gets the bad taste in his mouth, and fancies he hears water flowing ripplingly over gravelly beds, he realizes how very simple a matter the perishing may be.