This was the Depot Glen, and an extract from Sturt's journal depicts the situation of the party:-- "It was not, however, until after we had run down every creek in the neighbourhood, and had traversed the country in every direction, that the truth flashed across my mind, and it became evident to me that we were locked up in the desolate and heated region into which we had penetrated, as effectually as if we had wintered at the Pole.

It was long, indeed, ere I could bring myself to believe that so great a misfortune had overtaken us, but so it was.

Providence had, in its all wise purposes, guided us to the only spot in that wide-spread desert where our wants could have been permanently supplied, but had there stayed our further progress into a region that almost appears to be forbidden ground." This then was Sturt's prison -- a small creek marked by a line of gum trees, issuing from a glen in a low range.

By a kindly freak of nature, enough water had been confined in this glen to provide a permanent supply for the exploring party and their animals, during the long term of their detention.
Of Sturt's existence and occupation during this dreary period little can be said.

He tried to find an avenue of escape in every direction, until convinced of the futility of the attempt; sometimes encouraged and lured on by the shallow pools in some fragmentary creek, at others, seeing nothing before him but hopeless aridity.