June 18. — The party having left Adelaide late in the forenoon, and it being the first day of working the horses, I did not wish to make a long stage; having followed the usual road, therefore, as far as the little Parra, the drays were halted upon that watercourse (after a journey of about twelve miles), and we then proceeded to bivouac for the first time. For the first time too since I had engaged to command the expedition, I had leisure to reflect upon the prospects4 before me.
During the hurry and bustle6 of preparation, and in the enthusiasm of departure, my mind was kept constantly on the stretch, and I had no time for calm and cool consideration, but now that all was over and the journey actually commenced, I was again able to collect my thoughts and to turn my most serious and anxious attention to the duty I had undertaken. The last few days had been so fraught7 with interest and occupation, and the circumstances of our departure this morning, had been so exciting, that when left to my own reflections, the whole appeared to me more like a dream than a reality. The change was so great, the contrast so striking. From the crowded drawing room of civilized8 life, I had in a few hours been transferred to the solitude9 and silence of the wilds, and from being but an unit in the mass of a large community, I had suddenly become isolated10 with regard to the world, which, so far as I was concerned, consisted now only of the few brave men who accompanied me, and who were dependant11 for their very existence upon the energy and perseverance12 and prudence13 with which I might conduct the task assigned to me. With this small, but gallant14 and faithful band, I was to attempt to penetrate15 the vast recesses16 of the interior of Australia, to try to lift up the veil which has hitherto shrouded17 its mysteries from the researches of the traveller, and to endeavour to plant that flag which has floated proudly in all the known parts of the habitable globe, in the centre of a region as yet unknown, and unvisited save by the savage18 or the wild beast.
Those only who have been placed in similar circumstances can at all appreciate the feelings which they call forth19. The hopes, fears, and anxieties of the leader of an exploring party, must be felt to be understood, when he is about to commence an undertaking20 which MUST be one of difficulty and danger, and which MAY be of doubtful and even fatal result.
The toil21, care, and anxiety devolving upon him are of no ordinary character; everyday removes him further from the pale of civilization and from aid or assistance of any kind — whilst each day too diminishes the strength of his party and the means at his command, and thus renders him less able to provide against or cope with the difficulties that may beset22 him. A single false step, the least error of judgment23, or the slightest act of indiscretion might plunge24 the expedition into inextricable difficulty or danger, or might defeat altogether the object in view. Great indeed was the responsibility I had undertaken — and most fully25 did I feel sensible of the many and anxious duties that devolved upon me. The importance and interest attached to the solution of the geographical26 problem connected with the interior of Australia, would, I well knew, engage the observation of the scientific world. If I were successful, the accomplishment27 of what I had undertaken would more than repay me in gratification for the toil and hazard of the enterprise — but if otherwise I could not help feeling that, however far the few friends who knew me might give me credit for exertion28 or perseverance, the world at large would be apt to reason from the result, and to make too little allowance for difficulties and impediments, of the magnitude of which from circumstances they could be but incompetent29 judges.
With such thoughts as these, and revolving30 in my mind our future plans, our chances of success or otherwise, it will not be deemed surprising, that notwithstanding the fatigue31 and care I had gone through during the last fortnight of preparation, sleep should long remain a stranger to my pillow; and when all nature around me was buried in deep repose32 I alone was waking and anxious.
From former experience in a personal examination of the nature of the country north of the head of Spencer’s Gulf33, during the months of May and June, 1839, I had learnt that the farther the advance to the north, the more dreary34 and desolate35 the appearance of the country became, and the greater was the difficulty, both of finding and of obtaining access to either water or grass. The interception36 of the singular basin of Lake Torrens, which I had discovered formed a barrier to the westward37, and commencing near the head of Spencer’s Gulf, was connected with it by a narrow channel of mud and water. This lake apparently38 increased in width as it stretched away to the northward39, as far as the eye could reach, when viewed from the farthest point attained40 by me in 1839, named by Colonel Gawler, Mount Eyre. Dreary as had been the view I then obtained, and cheerless as was the prospect5 from that elevation41, there was one feature in the landscape, which still gave me hope that something might be done in that direction, and had in fact been my principal inducement to select a line nearly north from Spencer’s Gulf, for our route on the present expedition; this feature was the continuation, and the undiminished elevation of the chain of hills forming Flinders range, running nearly parallel with the course of Lake Torrens, and when last seen by me stretching far to the northward and eastward42 in a broken and picturesque43 outline.
It was to this chain of hills that I now looked forward as the stepping-stone to the interior. In its continuation were centered all my hopes of success, because in its recesses alone could I hope to obtain water and grass for my party. The desert region I had seen around its base, gave no hope of either, and though the basin of Lake Torrens appeared to be increasing so much in extent to the northward, I had seen nothing to indicate its terminating within any practicable distance, in a deep or navigable water. True the whole of the drainage from Flinders range, as far as was yet known, emptied into its basin, but such was the arid44 and sandy nature of the region through which it passed, that a great part of the moisture was absorbed, whilst the low level of the basin of the lake, apparently the same as that of the sea itself, forbade even the most distant hope of the water being fresh, should any be found in its bed.
It was in reflections and speculations45 such as these, that many hours of the night of my first encampment with the party passed away. The kindness of the Governor and our many friends had been so unbounded; their anxiety for our safety and comfort so great; their good wishes for our success so earnest, and their confidence in our exertions46, so implicit47, that I could not but look forward with apprehension48, lest the success of our efforts might not equal what our gratitude49 desired, and even now I began to be fearful that the high expectations raised by the circumstances of our departure might not be wholly realised.
We had fairly commenced our arduous50 undertaking, and though the party might appear small for the extent of the exploration contemplated51, yet no expedition could have started under more favourable52 or more cheering auspices53; provided with every requisite54 which experience pointed55 out as desirable, and with every comfort which excess of kindness could suggest, we left too, with a full sense of the difficulties before us, but with a firm determination to overcome them, if possible. And I express but the sentiments of the whole party when I say, that we felt the events of the day of our departure, and the recollection of the anxiety and interest with which our friends were anticipating our progress, and hoping for our success, would be cherished as our watchword in the hour of danger, and bethe incentive56 to perseverance and labour, when more than ordinary trials should call for our exertions. The result we were willing to leave in the hands of that Almighty57 Being whose blessing58 had been implored59 upon our undertaking, and to whom we looked for guidance and protection in all our wanderings.
June 19. — On mustering60 the horses this morning it was found, that one or two had been turned loose without hobbles, and being fresh and high fed from the stables, they gave us a great deal of trouble before we could catch them, but at last we succeeded, and the party moved on upon the road to Gawler town, arriving there (12 miles) about noon; at this place we halted for half an hour, at the little Inn to lunch, and this being the last opportunity we should have of entering a house for many months to come, I was anxious to give my men the indulgence. After lunch I again moved on the party for five miles, crossing and encamping upon, a branch of the Parra or Gawler, where we had abundance of good water and grass.
June 20. — Having a long stage before us to-day, I moved on the party very early, leaving all roads, and steering61 across the bush to my sheep stations upon the Light. We passed through some very fine country, the verdant62 and beautiful herbage of which, at this season of the year, formed a carpet of rich and luxuriant vegetation. Having crossed the grassy and well wooded ranges which confine the waters of the Light to the westward, we descended63 to the plain, and reached my head station about sunset, after a long and heavy stage of twenty miles — here we were to remain a couple of days to break up the station, as the sheep were sold, and the overseer and one of the men were to join the Expedition party.
The night set in cold and rainy, but towards morning turned to a severe frost; one of the native boys who had been sent a short cut to the station ahead of the drays, lost his road and was out in the cold all night — an unusual circumstance, as a native will generally keep almost as straight a direction through the wilds as a compass will point.
Sunday, June 21. — We remained in camp. The day was cold, the weather boisterous64, with showers of rain at intervals65, and the barometer66 falling; our delay enabled me to write letters to my various friends, before finally leaving the occupied parts of the country, I was glad too, to give the horses and men a little rest after the fatigue they had endured yesterday in crossing the country.
June 22. — As we still remained in camp, the day being dark and cloudy with occasional showers, I took the opportunity of having one of the drays boarded close up, and of re-arranging the loads, oiling the fire-arms, and grinding the axes, spades, etc.; we completed our complement67 of tools, tents, tarpaulins68, etc. from those at the station, and had everything arranged on the drays in the most convenient manner, always having in view safety in carriage and facility of access; the best place for the fire-arms I found to be at the outside of the sides, the backs, or the fronts, of those drays that were close boarded.
By nailing half a large sheepskin with the wool on in any of these positions, a soft cushion was formed for the fire-arms to rest against, they were then fixed69 in their places by a loop of leather for the muzzle70, and a strap71 and buckle72 for the stock; whilst the other half of the sheepskin which hung loose, doubled down in front of the weapons. between them and the wheel, effectually preserving them from both dirt and wet, and at the same time keeping them in a position, where they could be got at in a moment, by simply lifting up the skin and unbuckling the strap; by this means too, all danger or risk was avoided, which usually exists when the fire-arms are put on or off the drays in a loaded state. I have myself formerly73 seen carbines explode more than once from the cocks catching74 something, in being pulled out from, or pushed in amidst the load of a dray, independently of the difficulty of getting access to them in cases of sudden emergency; a still better plan than the one I adopted, would probably be to have lockers75 made for the guns, to hang in similar places, and in a somewhat similar manner to that I have described, but in this case it would be necessary for the lockers to be arranged and fitted at the time the drays or carts were made.
All the time I could spare from directing or superintending the loading of the drays, I devoted76 to writing letters and making arrangements for the regulation of my private affairs, which from the sudden manner in which I had engaged in the exploring expedition, and from the busy and hurried life I had led since the commencement of the preparations, had fallen into some confusion. I was now, however, obliged to content myself with such a disposition77 of them as the time and circumstances enabled me to make. — I observed the latitude78 of the station to be 34 degrees 15 minutes 56 seconds S.
June 23. — Having got all the party up very early, I broke up the station, and sent one man on horseback into Adelaide with despatches and letters. My overseer and another man were now added to the party, making up our complement in number. Upon re-arranging the loads of the drays yesterday, I had found it inconvenient79 to have the instruments and tent equipage upon the more heavily loaded drays, and I therefore decided80 upon taking an extra cart and another horse from the station. This completed our alterations81, and the party and equipment stood thus: —
Mr. Eyre.
Mr. Scott, my assistant and companion.
John Baxter, Overseer.
Corporal Coles, R.S. and M. John Houston, driving a three horse dray.
R. M’Robert, driving a three horse dray.
Neramberein and Cootachah, Aboriginal82 boys, to drive the sheep, track, etc.
We had with us 13 horses and 40 sheep, and our other stores were calculated for about three months; in addition to which we were to have a further supply forwarded to the head of Spencer’s Gulf by sea, in the Waterwitch, to await our arrival in that neighbourhood. This would give us the means of remaining out nearly six months, if we found the country practicable, and in that time we might, if no obstacles intervened, easily reach the centre of the Continent and return, or if practicable, cross to Port Essington on the N. W. coast.
About eleven I moved on the party up the Light for 8 miles, and then halted after an easy stage. As the horses were fresh and the men were not yet accustomed to driving them, I was anxious to move quietly on at first, that nothing might be done in a hurry, and every one might gradually settle down to what he had to perform, and that thus by a little care and moderation at first, those evils, which my former travelling had taught me were frequently the result of haste or inexperience, might be avoided. Nothing is more common than to get the withers83 of horses wrung84, or their shoulders and backs galled85 at the commencement of a journey, and nothing more difficult than to effect a cure of this mischief86 whilst the animals are in use. By the precaution which I adopted, I succeeded in preventing this, for the present.
As we passed up the valley of the Light, we had some rich and picturesque scenery around us — the fertile vale running nearly north and south, backed to the westward by well wooded irregular ranges grassed to their summits, and to the eastward shut in by a dark looking and more heavily timbered range, beyond which rose two peaks of more distant hills, through the centre of the valley the Light took its course, but at present it was only a chain of large ponds unconnected by any stream; and thus, I believe, it remains the greater part of the year, although occasionally swollen87 to a broad and rapid current.
June 24. — The horses having strayed a little this morning, and given us some trouble to get them, it was rather late when we started; we, however, crossed the low ridges88 at the head of the Light, and entering upon extensive plains to the north, we descended to a channel, which I took to be the head of a watercourse called the “Gilbert.”
Finding here some tolerably good water and abundance of grass, I halted the party for the night, though we were almost wholly without firewood, an inconvenience that we felt considerably89, as the nights now were very cold and frosty. Our stage had been fourteen miles to-day, running at first over low barren ridges, and then crossing rich plains of a loose brown soil, but very heavy for the drays to travel over.
At our camp, a steep bank of the watercourse presented an extensive geological section, but there was nothing remarkable90 in it, the substrata consisting only of a kind of pipe clay.
June 25. — Upon starting this morning we traversed a succession of fine open and very grassy plains, from which we ascended91 the low ridges forming the division of the waters to the north and south. In the latter direction, we had left the heads of the “Gilbert” and “Wakefield” chains of ponds, whilst in descending92 in the former we came upon the “Hill,” a fine chain of ponds taking its course through a very extensive and grassy valley, but with little timber of any kind growing near it. On this account I crossed it, and passing on a little farther encamped the party on a branch of the “Hutt,” and within a mile and a half of the main course of that chain of ponds. Our whole route to-day, had been through a fine and valuable grazing district, with grass of an excellent description, and of great luxuriance.
We were now nearly opposite to the most northerly of the out stations, and after seeing the party encamp, I proceeded, accompanied by Mr. Scott, to search for the stations for the purpose of saying good bye to a few more of my friends. We had not long, however, left the encampment when it began to rain and drove us back to the tents, effectually defeating the object with which we had commenced our walk. Heavy rain was apparently falling to the westward of us, and the night set in dark and lowering.
In some parts of the large plains we had crossed in the morning, I had observed traces of the remains of timber, of a larger growth than any now found in the same vicinity, and even in places where none at present exists. Can these plains of such very great extent, and now so open and exposed, have been once clothed with timber? and if so, by what cause, or process, have they been so completely denuded93, as not to leave a single tree within a range of many miles? In my various wanderings in Australia, I have frequently met with very similar appearances; and somewhat analogous94 to these, are the singular little grassy openings, or plains, which are constantly met with in the midst of the densest96 Eucalyptus97 scrub.
Every traveller in those dreary regions has appreciated these, (to him) comparatively speaking, oasises of the desert — for it is in them alone, that he can hope to obtain any food for his jaded98 horse; without, however, their affording under ordinary circumstances, the prospect of water for himself. Forcing his way through the dense95, and apparently interminable scrub, formed by the Eucalyptus dumosa, (which in some situations is known to extend for fully 100 miles), the traveller suddenly emerges into an open plain, sprinkled over with a fine silky grass, varying from a few acres to many thousands in extent, but surrounded on all sides by the dreary scrub he has left.
In these plains I have constantly traced the remains of decayed scrub — generally of a larger growth than that surrounding them — and occasionally appearing to have grown very densely99 together. From this it would appear that the face of the country in those low level regions, occupied by the Eucalyptus dumosa, is gradually undergoing a process which is changing it for the better, and in the course of centuries perhaps those parts of Australia which are now barren and worthless, may become rich and fertile districts, for as soon as the scrub is removed grass appears to spring up spontaneously. The plains found interspersed100 among the dense scrubs may probably have been occasioned by fires, purposely or accidentally lighted by the natives in their wanderings, but I do not think the same explanation would apply to those richer plains where the timber has been of a large growth and the trees in all probability at some distance apart — here fires might burn down a few trees, but would not totally annihilate101 them over a whole district, extending for many miles in every direction.
June 26. — This morning brought a very heavy fog, through which we literally102 could not see 100 yards, when the party moved on to the “Hutt” chain of ponds, and then followed that watercourse up to the Broughton river, which was crossed in Lat. 33 degrees 28 minutes S. At this point the bed of the Broughton is of considerable width, and its channel is occupied by long, wide and very deep water holes, connected with one another by a strongly running stream, which seldom or never fails even in the driest seasons. The soil upon its banks however is not valuable, being generally stony103 and barren, and bearing a sort of prickly grass, (Spinifex). Wild fowl104 abound105 on the pools. On a former occasion, when I first discovered the Broughton, I obtained both ducks and swans from its waters, but now I had no time for sporting, being anxious to push on to the “reedy watercourse,” a halting place in my former journey, so as to get over all the rough and hilly ground before nightfall, that we might have a fair start in the morning. I generally preferred, if practicable, to lengthen106 the stage a little in the vicinity of watercourses or hills, in order to get the worst of the road over whilst the horses worked together and were warm, rather than leave a difficult country to be passed over the first thing in the morning, when, for want of exercise, the teams are chill and stiff, and require to be stimulated107 before they will work well in unison108. Our journey to-day was about twenty miles, and the last five being over a rugged109 hilly road, it was late in the afternoon when we halted for the night.
“The reedy watercourse,” is a chain of water-holes taking its rise among some grassy and picturesque ranges to the north of us, and trending southerly to a junction110 with the Broughton. Among the gorges111 of this range, (which I had previously112 named Campbell’s range,)1 are many springs of water, and the scenery is as picturesque as the district is fertile. Many of the hills are well rounded, very grassy, and moderately well timbered even to their summits. This is one of the prettiest and most desirable localities for either sheep or cattle, that I have yet seen in the unoccupied parts of South Australia, whilst the distance from Adelaide by land, does not at the most exceed one hundred and twenty miles. 2 The watercourse near our camp took its course through an open valley, between bare hills on which there was neither tree nor shrub113 for firewood and we were constantly obliged to go half a mile up a steep hill before we could obtain a few stunted114 bushes to cook with. As the watercourse approached the Broughton the country became much more abrupt115 and broken, and after its junction with that river, the stream wound through a succession of barren and precipitous hills, for about fifteen miles, at a general course of south-west; these hills were overrun almost everywhere with prickly grass and had patches of the Eucalyptus dumosa scattered116 over them at intervals.
1 After R. Campbell, Esq. M. C. of Sydney.
2 All this country, and for some distance to the north, is now occupied by stations.
Up to the point where it left the hills, there were ponds of water in the bed of the Broughton, but upon leaving them the river changed its direction to the northward, passing through extensive plains and retaining a deep wide gravelly channel, but without surface water, the drainage being entirely117 underground, and the country around comparatively poor and valueless.
点击收听单词发音
1 scarcity | |
n.缺乏,不足,萧条 | |
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2 grassy | |
adj.盖满草的;长满草的 | |
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3 remains | |
n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
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4 prospects | |
n.希望,前途(恒为复数) | |
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5 prospect | |
n.前景,前途;景色,视野 | |
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6 bustle | |
v.喧扰地忙乱,匆忙,奔忙;n.忙碌;喧闹 | |
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7 fraught | |
adj.充满…的,伴有(危险等)的;忧虑的 | |
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8 civilized | |
a.有教养的,文雅的 | |
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9 solitude | |
n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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10 isolated | |
adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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11 dependant | |
n.依靠的,依赖的,依赖他人生活者 | |
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12 perseverance | |
n.坚持不懈,不屈不挠 | |
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13 prudence | |
n.谨慎,精明,节俭 | |
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14 gallant | |
adj.英勇的,豪侠的;(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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15 penetrate | |
v.透(渗)入;刺入,刺穿;洞察,了解 | |
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16 recesses | |
n.壁凹( recess的名词复数 );(工作或业务活动的)中止或暂停期间;学校的课间休息;某物内部的凹形空间v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的第三人称单数 );将(墙)做成凹形,在(墙)上做壁龛;休息,休会,休庭 | |
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17 shrouded | |
v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 );保密 | |
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18 savage | |
adj.野蛮的;凶恶的,残暴的;n.未开化的人 | |
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19 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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20 undertaking | |
n.保证,许诺,事业 | |
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21 toil | |
vi.辛劳工作,艰难地行动;n.苦工,难事 | |
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22 beset | |
v.镶嵌;困扰,包围 | |
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23 judgment | |
n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
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24 plunge | |
v.跳入,(使)投入,(使)陷入;猛冲 | |
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25 fully | |
adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
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26 geographical | |
adj.地理的;地区(性)的 | |
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27 accomplishment | |
n.完成,成就,(pl.)造诣,技能 | |
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28 exertion | |
n.尽力,努力 | |
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29 incompetent | |
adj.无能力的,不能胜任的 | |
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30 revolving | |
adj.旋转的,轮转式的;循环的v.(使)旋转( revolve的现在分词 );细想 | |
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31 fatigue | |
n.疲劳,劳累 | |
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32 repose | |
v.(使)休息;n.安息 | |
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33 gulf | |
n.海湾;深渊,鸿沟;分歧,隔阂 | |
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34 dreary | |
adj.令人沮丧的,沉闷的,单调乏味的 | |
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35 desolate | |
adj.荒凉的,荒芜的;孤独的,凄凉的;v.使荒芜,使孤寂 | |
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36 interception | |
n.拦截;截击;截取;截住,截断;窃听 | |
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37 westward | |
n.西方,西部;adj.西方的,向西的;adv.向西 | |
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38 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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39 northward | |
adv.向北;n.北方的地区 | |
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40 attained | |
(通常经过努力)实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 ); 达到; 获得; 达到(某年龄、水平、状况) | |
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41 elevation | |
n.高度;海拔;高地;上升;提高 | |
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42 eastward | |
adv.向东;adj.向东的;n.东方,东部 | |
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43 picturesque | |
adj.美丽如画的,(语言)生动的,绘声绘色的 | |
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44 arid | |
adj.干旱的;(土地)贫瘠的 | |
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45 speculations | |
n.投机买卖( speculation的名词复数 );思考;投机活动;推断 | |
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46 exertions | |
n.努力( exertion的名词复数 );费力;(能力、权力等的)运用;行使 | |
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47 implicit | |
a.暗示的,含蓄的,不明晰的,绝对的 | |
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48 apprehension | |
n.理解,领悟;逮捕,拘捕;忧虑 | |
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49 gratitude | |
adj.感激,感谢 | |
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50 arduous | |
adj.艰苦的,费力的,陡峭的 | |
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51 contemplated | |
adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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52 favourable | |
adj.赞成的,称赞的,有利的,良好的,顺利的 | |
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53 auspices | |
n.资助,赞助 | |
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54 requisite | |
adj.需要的,必不可少的;n.必需品 | |
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55 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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56 incentive | |
n.刺激;动力;鼓励;诱因;动机 | |
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57 almighty | |
adj.全能的,万能的;很大的,很强的 | |
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58 blessing | |
n.祈神赐福;祷告;祝福,祝愿 | |
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59 implored | |
恳求或乞求(某人)( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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60 mustering | |
v.集合,召集,集结(尤指部队)( muster的现在分词 );(自他人处)搜集某事物;聚集;激发 | |
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61 steering | |
n.操舵装置 | |
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62 verdant | |
adj.翠绿的,青翠的,生疏的,不老练的 | |
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63 descended | |
a.为...后裔的,出身于...的 | |
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64 boisterous | |
adj.喧闹的,欢闹的 | |
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65 intervals | |
n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 );间隔时间;[数学]区间;(戏剧、电影或音乐会的)幕间休息 | |
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66 barometer | |
n.气压表,睛雨表,反应指标 | |
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67 complement | |
n.补足物,船上的定员;补语;vt.补充,补足 | |
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68 tarpaulins | |
n.防水帆布,防水帆布罩( tarpaulin的名词复数 ) | |
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69 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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70 muzzle | |
n.鼻口部;口套;枪(炮)口;vt.使缄默 | |
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71 strap | |
n.皮带,带子;v.用带扣住,束牢;用绷带包扎 | |
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72 buckle | |
n.扣子,带扣;v.把...扣住,由于压力而弯曲 | |
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73 formerly | |
adv.从前,以前 | |
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74 catching | |
adj.易传染的,有魅力的,迷人的,接住 | |
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75 lockers | |
n.寄物柜( locker的名词复数 ) | |
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76 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
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77 disposition | |
n.性情,性格;意向,倾向;排列,部署 | |
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78 latitude | |
n.纬度,行动或言论的自由(范围),(pl.)地区 | |
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79 inconvenient | |
adj.不方便的,令人感到麻烦的 | |
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80 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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81 alterations | |
n.改动( alteration的名词复数 );更改;变化;改变 | |
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82 aboriginal | |
adj.(指动植物)土生的,原产地的,土著的 | |
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83 withers | |
马肩隆 | |
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84 wrung | |
绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 ); 握紧(尤指别人的手); 把(湿衣服)拧干; 绞掉(水) | |
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85 galled | |
v.使…擦痛( gall的过去式和过去分词 );擦伤;烦扰;侮辱 | |
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86 mischief | |
n.损害,伤害,危害;恶作剧,捣蛋,胡闹 | |
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87 swollen | |
adj.肿大的,水涨的;v.使变大,肿胀 | |
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88 ridges | |
n.脊( ridge的名词复数 );山脊;脊状突起;大气层的)高压脊 | |
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89 considerably | |
adv.极大地;相当大地;在很大程度上 | |
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90 remarkable | |
adj.显著的,异常的,非凡的,值得注意的 | |
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91 ascended | |
v.上升,攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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92 descending | |
n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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93 denuded | |
adj.[医]变光的,裸露的v.使赤裸( denude的过去式和过去分词 );剥光覆盖物 | |
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94 analogous | |
adj.相似的;类似的 | |
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95 dense | |
a.密集的,稠密的,浓密的;密度大的 | |
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96 densest | |
密集的( dense的最高级 ); 密度大的; 愚笨的; (信息量大得)难理解的 | |
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97 eucalyptus | |
n.桉树,桉属植物 | |
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98 jaded | |
adj.精疲力竭的;厌倦的;(因过饱或过多而)腻烦的;迟钝的 | |
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99 densely | |
ad.密集地;浓厚地 | |
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100 interspersed | |
adj.[医]散开的;点缀的v.intersperse的过去式和过去分词 | |
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101 annihilate | |
v.使无效;毁灭;取消 | |
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102 literally | |
adv.照字面意义,逐字地;确实 | |
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103 stony | |
adj.石头的,多石头的,冷酷的,无情的 | |
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104 fowl | |
n.家禽,鸡,禽肉 | |
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105 abound | |
vi.大量存在;(in,with)充满,富于 | |
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106 lengthen | |
vt.使伸长,延长 | |
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107 stimulated | |
a.刺激的 | |
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108 unison | |
n.步调一致,行动一致 | |
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109 rugged | |
adj.高低不平的,粗糙的,粗壮的,强健的 | |
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110 junction | |
n.连接,接合;交叉点,接合处,枢纽站 | |
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111 gorges | |
n.山峡,峡谷( gorge的名词复数 );咽喉v.(用食物把自己)塞饱,填饱( gorge的第三人称单数 );作呕 | |
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112 previously | |
adv.以前,先前(地) | |
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113 shrub | |
n.灌木,灌木丛 | |
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114 stunted | |
adj.矮小的;发育迟缓的 | |
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115 abrupt | |
adj.突然的,意外的;唐突的,鲁莽的 | |
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116 scattered | |
adj.分散的,稀疏的;散步的;疏疏落落的 | |
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117 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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