Sunday, 3rd June, Murchison Ranges. I feel very unwell this morning, from the rough ride yesterday. It was my intention to have walked to the top of the range to-day, but I am not able to do so. The small plain between the ranges is a bed of soft white sandstone, through which the different creeks have cut deep courses; the stones on the surface (igneous principally), are composed of iron, quartz, dark black and blue stone, also a bright red one, all run together and twisted into every sort of nick, as also with the limestone, and many other sorts which I do not know. This plain is covered with a most hard spinifex, very difficult to get the horses to face. In another creek, about one mile south-west from the camp, is a large water hole which will last six months; it is ten yards long by twenty yards wide.