THE GOLD-FIELDS OF NEW SOUTH WALES.
FROM TAMBAROORA TO SOFALA.
FROM OUR SPECIAL COMMISSIONER
No. 19.
ON first leaving Tambaroora, the road, for a distance of some eight miles, crosses
innumerable dry stony ridges, of no very great height, but disagreeable to travel, from the
rocky nature of the ground, the schist cropping up in every direction along the truck. The
whole of this country is peculiarly arid and unpromising, producing nothing but stunted
grey, and spotted gums, with a scattered undergrowth of rough scrub. Hardly a blade of
grass is to be seen on the ranges, and in the gullies it is of a coarse wiry character that
gives but small promise of containing nutritious matter. The road how comes upon the
crest of the main ridge, winding along it for some mile or more, until it reaches the Big
Monkey Hill, down a long spur of which it descends. On reaching the foot of the first
descent, the traveller comes upon a rather broad plateau of level; ground, nearly denuded
of timber, and covered with a beautiful sward of thick close grass, a perfect little emerald
fern upon which the eye rests with delight after the parched monotony of the last ten
miles. To the right or N.W., a deep valley may be traced for many miles, the huge
mountains towering up on either side to an enormous height, whilst here and there one
more vast than its fellows juts prominently forward, and throws out long branches or
spurs, which, falling by degrees, gradually sink into the valley. A couple of hundred
yards further on and I came upon the edge of the real descent, which falls to the
south-east, and then a view of unparalleled beauty and grandeur met my sight. The course of the
Turon could be traced upwards for many miles, whilst in the back-ground, the heavy
ranges of the Crown Ridge, from whence it takes its source, were marked out strongly
upon the horizon, though blue with the distance. In every direction the winds and turns of
the numerous ridges could be followed with ease, the great height at which I stood above;
causing them to be displayed before me as though upon a map, from their first starting
from the river; bed until, rising gradually, they joined themselves with the towering
mountains of the main range. This, again, could be followed into the far distance, until,
the eye, wearied with the extended view, lost it in the confusion of mountains that
blackened the horizon. In the foreground, appearing almost at my feet, the waters of the
Turon flowed swiftly by, glistening, in the sunlight, showing out brighter from the
darkness that, from where I stood, appeared to hang over the deep valley through which it
coursed. To the right, the valley of the Lower Turon was discernible for some distance
down, ran occasional ray of light, flashing up from the depths, marking the presence of
the stream, until the view was broken by an abrupt turn of the river. Here the hills, thickly
timbered, came down in long graceful sweeps, their sides dotted with neat whitwashed
cottages, and green plots of garden ground, and occasionally, though seldom with tents.
To the left, a small picturesque group of houses were, perched up on the edge of an
exceedingly high and steep portion of the river bank, their white fronts looking still
whiter by contrast with the dark red soil of the river bank immediately below.
Almost in the centre, the Little Wallaby Rock formed; the most prominent feature of the
scene, the eye resting instinctively upon that at the very first glance. It is an enormous
perpendicular rock, towering up from the bed of the river to a height of some 200 feet,
and appearing, from where I stood, to be surmounted by a conical crest, though in passing
along the road after- ward; I perceived that this cone belonged to a hill to the rear of the
rock. Far away in the distance, to the right centre of the river, the edge of Bathurst Plains
were first perceptible, round the point of a heavy range, the untimbered land showing out
like a bright spot amongst the dark foliage of the tree-clad hills. The long winding roads
on either side the river, now traversing a hill side, now lost as the crest, of the hill
intervened, then rising again in sight some miles beyond on the face of an acclivity, also
tended materially to break the sameness of the view and to give an additional feature of
interest to the picture. Like a good many others, however, I, looking so far before me had
neglected to inspect that which was right under my nose, and consequently after having
gloated to my heart's content over the extended panoramic prospect spread out before me,
I came down from my poetic rhapsody to the plain prose of life, and casting my eyes
down the track I began to wonder how it was possible to descend it. I had left the dray
track which winded away down by an easier road, and followed the bridle path, and
certainly if the ascent to Tambaroora had been a tough one, the descent to the Turon beat
it hollow. I should be afraid to say what angle the face of the hill made with its base for
fear I should not be credited, but some idea of it may be gauged from the fact that I had
doubts whether I could maintain my footing without assuming the unmanly course of
progression on all fours. As it happened my poor old horse had a most complete
disinclination to risk his neck, and came down so very unwillingly that I had to drag
heavily on his bridle to induce him to move, and this very materially assisted me. In
addition to the steepness of the track, the hillside was also covered with stones, mostly in
large boulders, and in places I had to step from one to the other of these. My horse being
not so light of foot as myself would often dislodge one of these, and send it rolling and
clattering down the hill, sometimes in such dangerous proximity to my legs as to be
avoided only by the most undignified activity. However, I only fell down twice, once
through a little misunderstanding with my old grey, who, jumping away from me as I
struck at him with my whip to hasten his steps, pulled me over with the bridle that hung
on my arm; and once by a stone upon which I stepped rolling away from under me, and
depositing me rather rudely upon mother earth.
I was fully compensated for the perils of the descent by the delightful little nook on the
river banks into which the track had led me. Two snug little cottages, with a patch of
garden ground to each, lay snugly ensconced in a deep bend of the river, a spur of the hill
above running down bluffly to the stream, backed them up and seemed almost to
overhang them. By the heavy; hills around, the spot was thrown into deep shades and
every thing around seemed green and luxuriant. The stream ran by rippling noisily over a
dam of stones that had been constructed across it, the continuous and monotonous sound
being the only one that broke the stillness. A rude foot bridge crossed the stream a little
below the huts, and around this were grouped some dozen head of cattle, some standing
up to their knees in water, others rubbing their hides upon the projecting points of the
saplings from which it was made, or drowsily, with half-closed eyes, chewing the cud.
Crossing the river here, I followed a road on the opposite bank, leaving to my right the
groups of houses that I had seen from the hill above; and traversing some heavy hills. I
again passed the river at the spot where the cluster of huts stood on the high bank of the
river. The road now passed over some heavy hills crossing and recrossing the river times
out of number, and sometime running along the bed of the stream. I had however loitered
about, looking at views, admiring prospects, and otherwise tumbling over my road, until
now, I found myself four miles from Sofala, and darkness already beginning to set in
upon me. To add to the pleasant nature of my position, persons whom I passed on the
road particularly recommended me to take care of this hill or that gulley, as it was very
much cut up with holes! In another spot also, where I was very carefully picking my way
through the riddled ground, a hard-hearted and most inconsiderate digger had taken it into
his head to fall a tree right across the track, just, two minutes before I reached him. I
heard the strokes of the axe, and the thundering crash of the fallen tree, but never dreamt
of the predicament in which that fall was going to place me. The timber gentleman pitied
my plight, however, and piloted me through the dangers of the locality. The night now
proved dark as Erebus, and rather inclined to be foggy, so that progression was naturally
slow under such circumstances. Still I did get along, and it was with no small pleasure
that on rising the summit of what appeared a good sized hill, I saw a cluster of lights
gleaming through the mist, and heard the strains of a German band, executing a choice
morceau, from the Borgia. I was soon safe in Sofala.