From a high bank which I ascended, I had a full view of the lake stretching away to the north-east, as far as the eye could reach, apparently about thirty miles broad, and still seeming to be bounded on its western shores by a low ridge, or table land, beyond which nothing could be seen.

No hills were visible any where, nor was there the least vegetation of any kind.
I was now upwards of 100 miles away from my party in a desert, without grass or water, nor could I expect to obtain either until my return to the creek, where I had left the twelve gallons, and this was about fifty miles away.

The main basin of Lake Torrens was still four or five miles distant, and I could not expect to gain any thing by going down to its shores; as on previous occasions, I had ascertained that to attempt to cross it, or even to reach the water a few miles from its outer edge, was quite impossible, from the boggy nature of its bed.

From my present elevation, the lake was seen bending round to the N.E., and I became aware that it would be a barrier to all efforts to the north.

My horses were suffering, too, from want of water and food; and I had, therefore, no alternative but to turn back from so inhospitable and impracticable a country.
With a heavy heart, and many misgivings as to the future, I retreated from the dismal scene, and measured back my steps as rapidly as possible towards the creek where our stock of water was buried.