A VISIT TO THE NORTHERN GOLD FIELDS.
FROM OUR SPECIAL REPORTER.
No. 11.
From the Main Camp at Touloome, the road pursues a course east of
north, rolling over undulating slopes which succeed the more elevated
ranges to the southward. As you proceed the schists disappear and are
replaced by conglomerates and other members of the carboniferous
formations. The vegetation is luxuriant, and the tall grass dances to the
music of the whistling leaves as the fitful breezes murmur through, the
open forest. About thirteen miles from the diggings, you pass the Sugar
Loaf Mountain, a wreck of sandstone, preserved amidst the general
degradation of the surrounding districts, and two miles beyond this you
pass the Touloome head station; fifteen miles still further and you are
on the elevated plains at the base of Mount Lindsay, surrounded by
isolated mountains of strange contour, their inaccessible sides mantled
with a dense moss of semi-tropical vegetation, through which their crags
and peaks burst into the full glare of an unclouded sky. The surrounding
plains winding amidst these elevations are of unsurpassed fertility, --
and are watered by ever-flowing rivulets, that, uniting either to the east
or west of the Richmond Range, form the head waters of the Clarence
on the one side, and of the Richmond on the other. This district, fertile
though it be, does not contain more than fifteen or twenty inhabitants,
widely scattered; and engaged in pastoral occupation.
Turning to the south-east you follow the Richmond River in its descent to
the coast. Passing round the eastern extremity of a series of spurs which
terminate the Richmond range, after a journey of twelve miles you arrive
at Wyangard station, famous for its splendid gardens and vineyard, the
beauty of which ís enhanced by the surrounding desolation. From this
point downwards the river flows through extensive alluvial plains that,
flanked by the forehills of the Macpherson ranges on the one hand, and
the distant Richmond range on the other, present all the attractions of
the finest park scenery, and as you ride along it is difficult to realise the
idea that you are journeying through an unpeopled wilderness. Nothing
is wanting here but man to complete the picture. As you proceed you
pass a deserted dairy farm; the fruit trees still remain to mark the site of
the garden. A few miles further you reach that lovely spot, Fairy Mount,
once the head station of a beautiful cattle run, but now an outpost
belonging to Runnemede station. Several miles lower down the stream,
at Fairy Mount, the mountains on the north bank recede for a long
distance, and there an important creek, after watering some
magnificent alluvial plains of vast extent, empties into the river. About
twelve miles below Runnemede, you reach the township of Casino,
sixteen miles above the head of ship navigation, but which can be
approached to within six miles by large boats.
Casino, encompassed by an extensive district of the richest soil in
undulating ridges separated by wide swamps, is fenced in, and
progresses but slowly. The inhabitants consist of a detachment of police,
a few Government officers, three or four tradesmen, and two publicans.
Notwithstanding the restrictions that surround the town and repress the
increase of the population, land is said to be becoming daily of
more value; as an evidence of which, it is reported that five acres, upon
which a slab hut had been erected by the present owner and used as a
public-house, has been recently purchased by him at a cost of
£1700; this land was acquired by the vendor under a pre-emptive right
some two years since.
The inhabitants of the Richmond district are divided into two classes,
having separate and distinct interests. The first and most important is
composed of about 200 persons, including servants engaged in pastoral
pursuits, who spread their herds over the rich plains and the slopes of
the ranges on both sides of the river. The second consists of about 1S00
scrubbers, who, ensconsed in the cedar brush, devote themselves to
lumbering, and are seldom seen on the grass. These, with about
200 teamsters, seamen, traders, publicans, and others located at the
Heads and on the various village sites, include the whole population.
It is probable that the fertile country watered by the Richmond River at
no very distant period will form one of the most populous and important
districts in New South Wales. Agriculture has been hitherto neglected by
the labouring class for a more profitable occupation, and all the food of
the district, excepting meat, has been imported. With tens of thousands
of acres of the richest alluvium, capable of producing corn, cotton,
maize, sugar, and rice; scrubs affording on unexhaustible supply of
marketable timber; hills and plains rich in coal of the best quality -- a
suspicion of copper and other valuable minerals bounded by a golden
region to the westward, and intersected by a noble stream, two branches
of which are navigable for seventy miles from its mouth, what is to retard
the advancement of this lovely district?
The bar at the mouth of the estuary is said to present an obstacle to
regular intercourse by steam with the capital, but so fine a country is well
worth, an effort and a considerable outlay, which would speedily be
repaid by the increased demand for the public lands in the district. Some
attempts have been made recently to bring a steamer into the Richmond
waters, which resulted in failure. There have been such things as
victorious defeats, where it was more profitable to lose than to win; if it
can be proved, or next best to being proved, if an impression gets
abroad that steam vessels cannot enter the Richmond, the squatting
leases will be worth 20 per cent, more than they are at present, and their
renewal may be fairly anticipated. The masters of coasting craft are
doing their share towards the exclusion of n steamer, by the discharge of
ballast in the channel, and have been doing so for twenty years. The
coral polyps is a smaller animal than a colonial skipper, and yet he
can make huge reefs; and I have no doubt that our friends the skippers
will succeed in making a reef too, or the next best thing, a dangerous
bar, if they are not molested.
The country between the mouth of the Richmond and Point Danger is a
succession of cedar and pine scrubs, swamps, isolated patches of grass
and open forest. A coast range, not laid down in the maps,
sandstones, clay slate, and an abundance of quartz rock and
the ordinary quartzites usually surrounded by sand dunes at a lower
level, On the ranges forming the north bank of the Tweed, the ordinary
schistose formations are occasionally denuded, and quartz is discovered
in its various forms both rock and reef, or vein. There are no inhabitants
in that locality other than a few poor cedar cutters who mourn the
increasing hardness of the times; they are obliged to work now nearly
half their time, and can no longer afford to indulge in their ancient
hospitality by knocking in the head of a hogs- head of rum, and making it
free to all comers; oh! those were rare old times. Cedar was cedar in
those days, and the Yankees had not found their way to our markets
with their ready-made floors, and doors, and windows. If those fellows
would only do the hospitable, and try the rum dodge, and work
three days in the week as we do, they would soon find that they could
not carry their notions so far and undersell us in our own markets. And
then let them carry weight -- weight for age -- that would be giving us
something like protection, and would go a long way towards a
restoration of the good old times. Now it takes a publican full five
years to chisel out a fortune in the cedar scrubs -- time was he could do
it in three. It's all owing to those horrid Yankees, An old cedar-cutter was
complaining a few days since that he cannot go into a house without
being reminded that his occupation is gone; he opens an American door,
looks out of an American window, stands on an American floor, and sits
down on an American chair to await the lady of the establishment, who
comes in from her American washtub, and sends for her husband from
his American plough.
We will now make our way back over moor and mountain to the main
camp on the Tooloome Creek, and, taking our departure from thence,
direct our course to the south-east. Ascending the long spur of a range
that rises from the flats on the margin of the stream, we are soon
amongst the sandstones and shales of the carboniferous formations,
and leave all trace of the gold-bearing rocks behind us on the
lower levels. The path leads along elevated summits descending from
the Richmond range, with broad fertile vallies on either hand. Skirting an
extensive cedar brush we arrive at a table land, where ironstone is
scattered in profusion; the land here is of the finest quality, but water is
scarce. Three miles across this plateau, and we commence a
succession of descents, passing over futile slopes until we reach Duck
Creek, ten miles from the diggings; the grass all the way has been knee
deep, and here water is plentiful, and you traverse a series of beautiful
apple-tree flats, until crossing a long range you descend on the
extensive plains on the opposite side, and reach Ben Albo station -- an
outpost in connection -- with the Sandylands run. You now fall in with
the dray load between Grafton, Touloome, and Ipswich. From this
place the road winds over alternate ranges of gentle ascent, and wide
plains of alluvium at various elevations, all capable of cultivation, until
you arrive at a deserted station on the banks of a running stream. Here
a family, attracted by the beauty of the situation and the fertility of the
surrounding plains, attempted to establish a dairy farm, but the rafters
were cut over their heads, and the place is now deserted.
As we proceed on our route, the rugged character of the scenery more
to the westward becomes subdued; the dark masses of cedar, brush,
and pine that clothe the slopes of the distant mountains contrast with the
lighter foliage of the apple tree sparsely sprinkled over the broad
valleys. Occasional plains occur, where the wide expanse of -waving
grasses is broken by picturesque clumps of scrub timber, or lone
trees standing out in advance of their mates in the forest. The descent is
almost imperceptible for twelve miles, when you reach the gates and
fences round the head station at Sandy lands, and here you are again
amidst steep ridges and winding watercourses. Six miles further,
ascending the Currabobilla range, and descending by the old New
England cross road to the Clarence Flats, we arrive at Tabulam, having
passed over forty miles of as rich a tract of wild land as can be found in
the colony. There are some admirable sites for agricultural settlement
along the line of road. On some of the choicest portions water is scarce,
but it can be had in any of the plains by sinking.
But few tracts of country can surpass that to the eastward of Tabulam,
stretching from the Clarence to the Richmond, It is capable of sustaining
a dense population in its valleys, and possesses all those natural
advantages which render a new country desirable, viz., a fine semi-
tropical climate, rich land, good water, facilities for making roads, and
valuable limber. All it requires is an industrious people to turn these gifts
of Providence to a good account.