Palmer's Journal of Travels Over the Rocky Mountains, 1845-1846
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Title: Palmer's Journal of Travels Over the Rocky Mountains, 1845-1846
Author: Joel Palmer
Contributor: Henry Harmon Spalding
Editor: Reuben Gold Thwaites
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EARLY WESTERN TRAVELS
1748-1846
VOLUME XXX
EARLY WESTERN TRAVELS
1748-1846
A Series of Annotated Reprints of some of the best
and rarest contemporary volumes of travel,
descriptive of the Aborigines and Social
and Economic Conditions in the Middle
and Far West, during the Period
of Early American Settlement
Edited with Notes, Introductions, Index, etc., by
Reuben Gold Thwaites, LL. D.
Editor of "The Jesuit Relations and Allied Documents," "Original
Journals of the Lewis and Clark Expedition," "Hennepin's New
Discovery," etc.
Volume XXX
Palmer's Journal of Travels over the Rocky Mountains,
1845-1846
[Illustration: decoration]
Cleveland, Ohio
The Arthur H. Clark Company
1906
Copyright 1906, by
The Arthur H. Clark Company
All Rights Reserved
The Lakeside Press
R. R. Donnelley & Sons Company
Chicago
CONTENTS OF VOLUME XXX
PREFACE. _The Editor_ 9
JOURNAL OF TRAVELS OVER THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS, TO THE
MOUTH OF THE COLUMBIA RIVER; MADE DURING THE YEARS
1845 AND 1846: containing minute descriptions of
the Valleys of the Willamette, Umpqua, and Clamet; a
general description of Oregon Territory; its inhabitants,
climate, soil, productions, etc., etc.; a list of Necessary
Outfits for Emigrants; and a Table of Distances from
Camp to Camp on the Route. Also; A Letter from the
Rev. H. H. Spalding, resident Missionary, for the last ten
years, among the Nez Percé Tribe of Indians, on the
Kooskooskee River; The Organic Laws of Oregon Territory;
Tables of about 300 words of the Chinook Jargon, and
about 200 Words of the Nez Percé Language; a Description
of Mount Hood; Incidents of Travel, &c., &c.
_Joel Palmer._
Copyright Notice 24
Author's Dedication 25
Publishers' Advertisement 27
Text: Journal, April 16, 1845-July 23, 1846 29
Necessary Outfits for Emigrants traveling to Oregon 257
Words used in the Chinook Jargon 264
Words used in the Nez Percé Language 271
Table of Distances from Independence, Missouri;
and St. Joseph, to Oregon City, in Oregon Territory 277
Appendix:
Letter of the Rev. H. H. Spalding to Joel Palmer,
Oregon Territory, April 7, 1846 283
Organic Laws of Oregon (with amendments). 299
ILLUSTRATION TO VOLUME XXX
FACSIMILE OF TITLE-PAGE, PALMER'S JOURNAL OF TRAVELS. 23
PREFACE TO VOLUME XXX
In the wake of the pathfinders, fur-traders, Indian scouts,
missionaries, scientific visitors, and foreign adventurers came the
ultimate figure among early Western travellers, the American pioneer
settler, the fore-runner of the forces of occupation and civilization.
This concluding volume in our series is, therefore, fitly devoted to the
record of an actual home-seeker, and founder of new Western communities.
The significant feature of American history has been the transplanting
of bodies of colonists from one frontier to a newer frontier. In respect
to the Oregon country, our interest therein is enhanced not only by the
great distance and the abundant perils of the way, but also by the
political result in securing the territory to the United States, and the
growth of a prosperous commonwealth in the Far Northwest corner of our
broad domain. In several previous volumes of our series we have
witnessed the beginnings of Oregon civilization. Two of our travellers,
Franchère and Ross, have graphically detailed the Astoria episode,
giving us, not without some literary skill, the skeleton of facts which
Irving's masterful pen clothed with living flesh and healthful color; in
Townsend's pages we found an enduring picture of the régime of the
all-powerful Hudson's Bay Company; De Smet, with faithful, indeed
loving, touches has portrayed the vanishing aborigines, whose sad story
has yet fully to be told--eventually, when the last vestige of their
race has gone, we shall come to recognize the tale as the sorriest
chapter in our annals; Farnham shrewdly narrates the sharp transition to
American occupancy; but Palmer tells us of the triumphant progress of
the conquering pioneer, and in his pages the destiny of Oregon as an
American state is clearly foreshadowed.
"Fifty-four forty, or fight," the belligerent slogan with regard to
Oregon, adopted in the presidential campaign of 1844, was after all not
so much a notice to the British government that the United States
considered the Oregon country her own, beyond recall, as an appeal to
the pioneers of the West to secure this vast inheritance by actual
occupation. As such it proved a trumpet call to thousands of vigorous
American farmers, most of them already possessed of comfortable homes in
the growing communities of the Middle West.
"I have an uncle," declared one of the pioneers to Dr. John McLoughlin,
Hudson's Bay factor on the Pacific coast, "who is rich enough to buy out
your company and all this territory."
"Indeed!" replied the doctor, courteously, "who is he?"
"Uncle Sam," gayly responded the emigrant, with huge enjoyment in his
well-worn witticism. It was at the supposed behest of this same "Uncle
Sam" that farms were sold, wagons and oxen purchased, outfits prepared,
and long caravans of permanent settlers slowly and painfully crossed the
vast plains and rugged mountains lying between the comfortable
settlements of the "Old Northwest"--the "Middle West" of our day--and
the new land of promise in the Far Northwest of the Pacific Slope.
The emigration of 1845 exceeded all that had gone before. That of 1843,
eight hundred strong, had startled the Indians, and surprised the staid
officials of the Hudson's Bay Company. That of 1844 had occupied the
fertile valleys from Puget Sound on the north to Calapooia on the south.
That of 1845 determined that the territory should be the home of
Americans; it doubled the population already on the ground, reinforced
the compact form of government, and laid broad and deep the foundations
of new American commonwealths.
Our author, Joel Palmer, a shrewd, genial farmer from Indiana, was a
leader among these emigrants of 1845. Born across the Canada line in
1810, he nevertheless was of New York parentage, and American to the
core. In early life his family removed to Indiana, where Joel founded a
home at Laurel, in northwest Franklin County. By the suffrages of his
neighbors Palmer was sent to the state legislature in 1844, but the
following year determined to make a tour to Oregon for personal
observation, before deciding to remove his family thither and cast his
future lot with its pioneer settlers. Arrived on the Missouri frontier,
he found that the usual wagon train had gone in advance. However, he
overtook the great body of the emigrants in time to assist in the
organization of the caravan on Big Soldier's Creek, in Kansas.
Gathered from all parts of the Middle West, with no attempt at
organization nor any pre-arrangement whatsoever, the emigrants, who had
not yet forgotten the frontier traditions of their fathers, proved to
be a homogeneous body of about three thousand alert, capable travellers,
provided in general with necessities and even comforts for the hardships
of the long journey; indeed, after the manner of their Aryan forbears in
the great westerly migrations of the past, they were accompanied by
herds of cattle, to form the basis of agricultural life in the new land.
Each of the several hundred wagons was a travelling house, provided with
tents, beds, and cooking utensils; clothing and food were also carried,
sufficient not only for the journey out, but for subsistence through the
first year, always the crucial stage of agricultural pioneering. The
draught cattle were largely oxen, but many of the men rode horses, and
others drove them with their cows and bulls.
Aside from the duties of the nightly encampment and morning "catch-up,"
life upon the migration progressed much as in settled communities. There
were instances of courtship, marriage, illness, and death, and not
infrequently births, among the migrating families. These, together with
the ever-shifting panorama of sky, plains, and mountains, made the
incidents of the long and tedious journey. Occasionally there appeared
upon the horizon an Indian gazing silently at these invaders of his
tribal domain, and at times he came even to the wagon wheels to beg or
trade; the mere numbers of the travellers gave him abundant caution not
to attempt hostilities. The wagons were so numerous as to render a
compact caravan troublesome to manage and disagreeable to travel with.
The great cavalcade soon broke into smaller groups, over one of which,
composed of thirty wagons, Palmer was chosen captain.
At Fort Laramie they rested, and feasted the Indians, who, in wonderment
and not unnatural consternation, swarmed about them in the guise of
beggars. Palmer afterwards harangued the aboriginal visitors, telling
them frankly that their entertainers were no traders, they "were going
to plough and plant the ground," that their relatives were coming behind
them, and these he hoped the red men would treat kindly and allow free
passage--a thinly veiled suggestion that the white army of occupation
had come to stay and must not be interfered with by the native
population, or vengeance would follow.
From Fort Laramie the invaders, for from the standpoint of the Indians
such of course were our Western pioneers, followed the usual trail to
the newly-established supply depot at Fort Bridger. Thence they went by
way of Soda Springs to Fort Hall, where was found awaiting them a
delegation from California, seeking, with but slight success, to
persuade a portion of the emigrants in that direction. Following Lewis
River on its long southern bend, the travellers at last reached Fort
Boise, where provisions could be purchased from Hudson's Bay officials,
and a final breathing-spell be taken before attempting the most
difficult part of the journey--the passage of the Blue and Cascade
ranges.
A considerable company of the emigrants, accompanied by the pilot,
Stephen H. Meek, left the main party near Fort Hall, to force a new
route to the Willamette without following Columbia River. The essay was,
however, disastrous. Meek became bewildered, and was obliged to secrete
himself to escape the revenge of the exasperated travellers, who reached
the Dalles of the Columbia in an exhausted condition, having lost many
of their number through hunger and physical hardships.
Palmer himself continued with the main caravan on the customary route
through the Grande Ronde, down the Umatilla and the Columbia, arriving
at the Dalles by the closing days of September. Here a new difficulty
faced the weary pioneers--there was no wagon road beyond the Dalles;
boats to transport the intending colonists were few, and had been
pre-empted by the early arrivals, while provisions at the Dalles would
soon be exhausted. In this situation Palmer determined to join Samuel K.
Barlow and his company in an attempt to cross the Cascades south of
Mount Hood, and lead the way overland to the Willamette valley. This
proved an arduous task, calling for all the skill and fortitude of
experienced pathfinders. In its course, Palmer ascended Mount Hood,
which he describes as "a sight more nobly grand" than any he had ever
looked upon. At last the valley of the Clackamas was reached, and Oregon
City, the little capital of the new territory, was attained, where "we
were so filled with gratitude that we had reached the settlements of the
white man, and with admiration at the appearance of the large sheet of
water rolling over the Falls, that we stopped, and in this moment of
happiness recounted our toils, in thought, with more rapidity than
tongue can express or pen write." The distance that he had travelled
from Independence, Missouri, our author estimates at 1,960 miles.
Passing the winter of 1845-46 in Oregon, Palmer made a careful
examination of its resources, and in his book describes the country in
much detail. The ensuing spring, after a journey to the Lapwai mission
for horses, he started on the return route, arriving at his home in
Laurel, Indiana, upon the twenty-third of July.
Palmer's experience, although trying, had been sufficiently satisfactory
to justify his intention to make a permanent home in Oregon. In 1847 he
took his family thither, the emigration of that year being sometimes
known as "Palmer's train," he having been elected captain of the entire
caravan, also in recognition of his great utility to the expedition. The
new caravan had but just arrived in Oregon--now belonging definitely to
the United States--when the Whitman massacre aroused the colonists to
punish the Indian participants in order to ensure their own safety. In
the organization of the militia force, Joel Palmer was chosen
quartermaster and commissary general, whence the title of General, by
which he was subsequently known.
He was also made one of two commissioners to attempt to treat with the
recalcitrant tribes, and win to neutrality as many as possible.
Accompanied by Dr. Robert Newell, a former mountain man, and Perrin
Whitman, the murdered man's nephew, as interpreter, Palmer risked his
life in the land of the hostiles, and succeeded in alienating many Nez
Percés and Wallawalla from the guilty Cayuse. Thus was laid the
foundation of that full knowledge of aboriginal character that availed
him in his service as United States superintendent of Indians for
Oregon.
To this difficult position General Palmer was appointed by President
Pierce in 1853, just on the eve of an outbreak in southern Oregon, and
his term of office coincided with the period of Indian wars. After
pacifying the southern tribes, Palmer inaugurated the reservation
system, removing the remnants of the tribes of the Willamette valley and
their southward neighbors to a large tract in Polk and Yamhill counties,
known as Grande Ronde Reservation. This ended the Indian difficulties in
that quarter until the Modoc War, twenty years later.
Palmer found the tribesmen east of the mountains more difficult to
subdue. Scarcely had he and Isaac T. Stevens, governor of Washington
Territory, made a series of treaties (1855) with the Nez Percés, Cayuse,
Wallawalla, and neighboring tribes, when the Yakima War began, and
embroiled both territories until 1858. During these difficulties the
military authorities complained that Commissioner Palmer was too lenient
with former hostiles, and pinned too much faith to their promises.
Consequently the Oregon superintendency was merged with that of
Washington (1857), and James W. Nesmith appointed to the combined
office.
Retiring to his home in Dayton, Yamhill County, which town he had laid
out in 1850, General Palmer was soon called upon to serve in the state
legislature, being speaker of the house of representatives (1862-63),
and state senator (1864-66). During the latter incumbency he declined
being a candidate for United States senator, because of his belief that
a person already holding a public office of emolument should not during
his term be elected to another. In 1870 he was Republican candidate for
governor of the state, but was defeated by a majority of less than seven
hundred votes. From this time forward he lived quietly at Dayton, and
there passed away upon the ninth of June, 1881. His excellent portrait
given in Lyman's _History of Oregon_ (iii, p. 398) is that of an old
man; but the face is still strong and kindly, with a high and broad
forehead, and gentle yet piercing eyes.
One of Palmer's fellow pioneers said of him, "he was a man of ardent
temperament, strong friendships, and full of hope and confidence in his
fellow men." Another calls his greatest characteristic his honesty and
integrity. Widely known and respected in the entire North-West, his
services in the up-building of the new community were of large import.
Not the least of these services was, in our judgment, the publication of
his _Journal of Travels over the Rocky Mountains_, herein reprinted,
which was compiled during the winter of 1846-47, and planned as a guide
for intending emigrants. The author hoped to have it in readiness for
the train of 1847, but the publishers were dilatory and he only received
about a dozen copies before starting. The book proved useful enough,
however, to require two later editions, one in 1851, another in 1852,
and was much used by emigrants of the sixth decade of the past century.
Palmer makes no pretence of literary finish. He gives us a simple
narrative of each day's happenings during his own first journey in 1845,
taking especial care to indicate the route, each night's camping places,
and all possible cut-offs, springs, grassy oases, and whatever else
might conduce to the well-being of the emigrant and his beasts. The
great care taken by the author, with this very practical end in view,
results in his volume being the most complete description of the Oregon
Trail that we now possess. Later, his account of passing around Mount
Hood and the initial survey of the Barlow road, produces a marked effect
through its simplicity of narrative. His incidents have a quaint
individuality, as for instance the reproof from the Cayuse chief for the
impiety of card-playing. No better description of the Willamette valley
can be found than in these pages, and our author's records of the
climate, early prices in Oregon, and the necessities of an emigrant's
outfit, complete a graphic picture of pioneering days.
In the annotation of the present volume, we have had valuable
suggestions and some material help from Principal William I. Marshall of
Chicago, Professor Edmond S. Meany of the University of Washington, Mr.
George H. Himes of Portland, Dr. Joseph Schafer of the University of
Oregon, and Mr. Edward Huggins, a veteran Hudson's Bay Company official
at Fort Nisqually.
With this volume our series of narratives ends, save for the general
index reserved for volume xxxi. The Western travels which began in
tentative excursions into the Indian country around Pittsburg and
Eastern Ohio in 1748, have carried us to the coast of the Pacific. The
continent has been spanned. Not without some exhibitions of wanton
cruelty on the part of the whites have the aborigines been pushed from
their fertile seats and driven to the mountain wall. The American
frontier has steadily retreated--at first from the Alleghanies to the
Middle West, thence across the Mississippi, and now at the close of our
series it is ascending the Missouri and has sent vanguards to the
Farthest Northwest. The ruts of caravan routes have been deeply sunk
into the plains and deserts, and wheel marks are visible through the
length of several mountain passes. The greater part of the continental
interior has been threaded and mapped. The era of railroad building and
the engineer is at hand. The long journey to the Western ocean has been
ridded of much of its peril, and is less a question of mighty endurance
than confronted the pathfinders. When Francis Parkman, the historian of
New France, going out upon the first stages of the Oregon Trail in
1847--the year following the date of the present volume--saw emigrant
wagons fitted with rocking chairs and cooking stoves, he foresaw the
advent of the commonplace upon the plains, and the end of the romance of
EARLY WESTERN TRAVELS.
Throughout the entire task of preparing for the press this series of
reprints, the Editor has had the assistance of Louise Phelps Kellogg,
Ph. D., a member of his staff in the Wisconsin Historical Library.
Others have also rendered editorial aid, duly acknowledged in the
several volumes as occasion arose; but from beginning to end,
particularly in the matter of annotation, Dr. Kellogg has been his
principal research colleague, and he takes great pleasure in asking for
her a generous share of whatever credit may accrue from the undertaking.
Annie Amelia Nunns, A. B., also of his library staff, has rendered most
valuable expert aid, chiefly in proofreading and indexing. The Editor
cannot close his last word to the Reader without gratefully calling
attention, as well, to the admirable mechanical and artistic dress with
which his friends the Publishers have generously clothed the series, and
to bear witness to their kindly suggestions, active assistance, and
unwearied patience, during the several years of preparation and
publication.
R. G. T.
MADISON, WIS., August, 1906.
PALMER'S JOURNAL OF TRAVELS OVER THE ROCKY
MOUNTAINS, 1845-1846
Reprint of original edition: Cincinnati, 1847
JOURNAL OF TRAVELS
OVER THE
ROCKY MOUNTAINS,
TO THE
MOUTH OF THE COLUMBIA RIVER;
MADE DURING THE YEARS 1845 AND 1846:
CONTAINING MINUTE DESCRIPTIONS OF THE
VALLEYS OF THE WILLAMETTE, UMPQUA, AND CLAMET;
A GENERAL DESCRIPTION OF
OREGON TERRITORY;
ITS INHABITANTS, CLIMATE, SOIL, PRODUCTIONS, ETC., ETC.;
A LIST OF
NECESSARY OUTFITS FOR EMIGRANTS;
AND A
Table of Distances from Camp to Camp on the Route.
ALSO;
A Letter from the Rev. H. H. Spalding, resident Missionary, for the
last ten years, among the Nez Percé Tribe of Indians, on the
Kooskooskee River; The Organic Laws of Oregon Territory, Tables
of about 300 words of the Chinook Jargon, and about 200 Words
of the Nez Percé Language; a Description of Mount Hood; Incidents
of Travel, &c., &c.
BY JOEL PALMER.
CINCINNATI:
J. A. & U. P. JAMES, WALNUT STREET,
BETWEEN FOURTH AND FIFTH.
1847.
ENTERED, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1847, by
J. A. & U. P. JAMES,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Ohio.
TO THE
PIONEERS OF THE WEST,
AND THEIR DESCENDANTS,
THE BONE AND MUSCLE OF THE COMMUNITY,
WHO IMPROVE AND ENRICH THE COUNTRY IN PEACE,
AND PROTECT AND DEFEND IT IN WAR,
THIS WORK
IS RESPECTFULLY
DEDICATED.
PUBLISHERS' ADVERTISEMENT
In offering to the public a new work on Oregon, the publishers feel
confident that they are performing an acceptable service to all who are
desirous of obtaining full and correct information of that extensive and
interesting region.
The facts contained in this Journal of Travels over the Rocky Mountains
were obtained, by the author, from personal inspection and observation;
or derived from intelligent persons, some of whom had resided in the
country for ten years previously. It contains, as is believed, much very
valuable information never before published, respecting the Oregon
Territory.
Mr. Palmer's statements and descriptions are direct and clear, and may
be relied on for their accuracy. He observed with the eye of an
intelligent farmer the hills and valleys; timbered land and prairies,
soil, grass, mill sites, &c.; all of which he has particularly
described.
To the man about to emigrate to Oregon just the kind of information
needed is given. He is informed what is the best season for setting out;
the kinds and quantities of necessary outfits; where they may be
purchased to the best advantage, so as to save money, time and useless
hauling of provisions, and to promote comfort and prevent suffering on
the long journey.
{vi} A particular account of Oregon City is given; the number of houses
and inhabitants; the number and kinds of mechanical trades carried on;
and the prices current during the author's stay there.
The objects of natural curiosity on the route--the Solitary Tower--the
Chimney Rock--Independence Rock--the Hot Springs--the Devil's Gate--the
South Pass--the Soda Springs, and many others--are noticed.
The work is enlivened with anecdotes of mountaineer life--shooting
buffalo--hunting bear--taking fish, &c.
Mr. Palmer made the ascent of one of the highest peaks of Mount Hood,
almost alone, and with a very scanty supply of provisions. An
extraordinary achievement, when the circumstances under which it was
accomplished are taken into consideration.
_Cincinnati, January, 1847._
JOURNAL OF TRAVELS OVER THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS
Having concluded, from the best information I was able to obtain, that
the Oregon Territory offers great inducements to emigrants, I determined
to visit it with a view of satisfying myself in regard to it, and of
ascertaining by personal observation whether its advantages were
sufficient to warrant me in the effort to make it my future home.[1] I
started, accordingly, on the morning of the 16th of April, 1845, in
company with Mr. Spencer Buckley. We expected to be joined by several
young men from Rushville, Ind., but they all abandoned the enterprise,
and gave us no other encouragement than their good wishes for our
success and safety. I took leave of my family, friends and home, with a
truly melancholy heart. I had long looked forward and suffered in
imagination the pain of this anticipated separation; but I had not
tasted of its _realities_, and none but those who have parted with a
family under similar circumstances, can form any just conception of the
depth and power of the emotions which pervaded my breast on that
occasion. The undertaking before me was arduous. It _might_ and
doubtless _would_ be attended with various and unknown difficulties,
privations and dangers. A doubt arose in my mind, whether the
advantages, which were expected to result from the trip, would be likely
to compensate for the time and expense necessary to accomplish it: but I
believed that I was right, hoped for the best, and pressed onward.
We were favoured with a pleasant day and good roads, which tended in
some degree to dissipate the gloom which {10} had weighed down my
spirits upon leaving _home_. Our day's travel ended at Blue River, on
the banks of which we encamped for the first time on the long and
tedious journey before us.[2]
_April 17._ Arrived at Indianapolis, in the afternoon, where we expected
to meet a number of persons, who had expressed a determination to join
the party.[3] But here too, as in the case of our Rushville friends, we
were doomed to meet disappointment;--not one was found willing to join
us in our expedition. After having had our horses well shod, (we
traveled in an ordinary wagon drawn by two horses,) and having laid in a
supply of medicines, we put up for the night.
_April 18._ We this day had a sample of what might be called the
_mishaps_ of travelers--an encounter with a wild animal, the first which
we met in our journey. One of our horses becoming lame, we were obliged
to trade him away, and received in exchange one so wild, that it
required the greatest vigilance and exertion on our part to prevent him
from running away with our whole concern. We reached Mount Meridian
after a day's journey of about thirty-four miles, during which we
succeeded admirably in taming our wild horse.[4]
_April 24._ Reached the Mississippi, opposite to St. Louis, having
traveled daily, and made the best of our time after leaving Mount
Meridian.
_April 25._ We made a few purchases this morning, consisting chiefly of
Indian trinkets, tobacco, powder, lead, &c. and, soon after, resumed our
journey upon the road to St. Charles, the seat of justice for St.
Charles county.[5] We reached this place at the close of the day, and
encamped upon the banks of the Missouri, which appears to be about as
wide as the Ohio at Cincinnati, in a fair stage of water; the current is
quite strong; the water very thick and muddy. Here, we overtook a
company of Germans, from St. Louis, who had started for California. The
company consisted of four men, two women and three children; they
traveled with a wagon drawn by six mules, and a cart drawn by two,--a
very poor means of conveyance for such a long and tedious route. We
traveled the same road until we reached Fort Hall.
_April 26._ At nine o'clock A. M. we crossed the river and traveled
twenty-eight miles. The surface of the country is somewhat undulating;
the soil, though poorly watered, appears to be good, and produces
respectable crops.
_April 27._ We traveled thirty-one miles. The day was rainy {11} and
unpleasant. The country through which we passed is a rolling prairie:
some parts of it are very well timbered. On account of the scarcity of
springs, the people rely generally upon their supplies of _rain_ water.
There we were joined by a clever backwoodsman, by the name of Dodson,
who was making the best of his lonely journey to join an emigrating
party at Independence; upon his consenting to bear an equal share in our
expenses and outfit at that place, we took him in, and traveled
together.
_April 28._ We started this morning at sunrise, and traveled to Lute
creek, a distance of six and a half miles.[6] This stream was so much
swollen, in consequence of the recent rains, that we were unable to ford
it, and were forced to encamp upon its banks, and remain all day. While
there, we were greatly annoyed by the _wood-tick_--an insect resembling,
in size and in other respects, the _sheep-tick_. These insects, with
which the bushes and even the ground seemed to be covered, fastened
themselves with such tenacity upon our flesh, that when picking them off
in the morning, the head would remain sticking fast to the skin, causing
in most cases a painful wound.
_April 29._ We traveled about twenty-six miles, through a gently
undulating country: the principal crops consisted of corn, oats, tobacco
and some wheat. We passed through Williamsburgh and Fulton. The latter
town is the seat of justice for Callaway county.[7]
_April 30._ We made an advance of about thirty miles through a well
timbered country, and passed through Columbia, the seat of justice for
Boone county. The town is pleasant and surrounded by a fertile and
attractive country. We made our halt and encamped for the night, five
miles westward of this town.
_May 1._ We started this morning at the usual hour, and after a ride of
eight miles, reached and re-crossed the Missouri, at Rocheport, and
continued our journey until night, passing through Booneville, the
county seat of Cooper--a rich and fertile county, making in all a ride
of twenty-six miles.[8]
_May 2._ Passed through the town of Marshall, the seat of justice for
Saline county. The town stands upon an elevated prairie, upon which may
be found a few groves of shrubby timber. The country upon this [the
west] side appeared to be much better supplied with water, than that
upon the east side.[9]
_May 3._ We traveled about twenty-eight miles, over a thinly-settled
{12} prairie country. The crops, cultivated generally by negroes,
consisted of hemp, corn, oats, and a little wheat and tobacco. The soil
appeared to be good, but the scarcity of timber will prove a serious
barrier to a complete settlement of the country.
_May 4._ We traveled twenty-three miles this day, through a better
improved and pleasanter part of Missouri, than any we have yet seen. The
crops appeared well; there were fine orchards under successful
cultivation. The country is well timbered, and there appears nothing to
hinder it from becoming the seat of a dense and thriving population.
_May 6._ Reached Independence at nine o'clock A.M.;[10] and as the main
body of emigrants had left a few days previous, we hastily laid in our
supplies, and at five o'clock P. M., pushed forward about two miles, and
encamped upon the banks of a small creek, in company with four wagons,
bound for Oregon. From one of the wagons they drew forth a large jug of
whiskey, and before bed-time all the men were completely intoxicated. In
the crowd was a mountaineer, who gave us a few lessons in the first
chapter of a life among the mountains. At midnight, when all were quiet,
I wrapped myself in my blanket, laid down under an oak tree, and began
to realize that I was on my journey to Oregon.
_May 7._ After traveling about fifteen miles we halted and procured an
extra set of horse-shoes, and a few additional wagon bows. The main body
of the emigrants is twenty-five miles in advance of us: we have now
passed out of Missouri, and are traveling in an Indian country--most of
which is a rolling prairie.[11]
_May 8._ We started at seven o'clock, A. M. and traveled about twenty
miles. Towards evening we overtook an emigrating company, consisting of
thirty-eight wagons, with about one thousand head of loose cattle, all
under the direction of a Mr. Brown. We passed this company, expecting to
overtake a company of about one hundred wagons, which were but a few
miles before us. The night, however, became so dark that we were
compelled to encamp upon the prairie. Soon after we had staked our
horses, a herd of wild Indian horses came galloping furiously by us,
which so alarmed our horses and mules, that they broke loose and ran
away after them. Dodson and myself pursued, but were distanced, and
after running two or three miles, abandoned the chase as hopeless, and
attempted to return to the camp. Owing to the darkness, we {13} were
unable to find our camp, until the night had far advanced; and when we
finally reached it, it required all my logic, supported by the positive
testimony of Buckley, to convince Dodson that we were actually there.
_May 9._ At daylight, Dodson and I resumed the search for our lost
stock. After a fatiguing tramp of several hours, I came upon _one_ of
the mules, which being hobbled, had been unable to keep with the herd.
Dodson was unsuccessful, and returned to camp before me; during our
absence, however, the herd had strolled near the camp, and Buckley had
succeeded in taking our two _horses_. Having taken some refreshments, we
started again in search of the lost animals. As I was returning to camp,
hopeless, weary and hungry, I saw at a distance Dodson and Buckley
mounted upon our two horses, and giving chase to the herd of Indian
horses, among which were our two mules. The scene was wild, romantic and
exciting. The race was untrammeled by any of those arbitrary and
useless rules with which the "knights of the turf" encumber their races,
and was pursued on both sides, for a nobler purpose; it was to decide
between the rights of _property_ on the one side, and the rights of
_liberty_ on the other. The contest was for a long time doubtful; but
the herd finally succeeded in winning the race, and poor Buckley and
Dodson were compelled to yield; the former having lost his reputation as
a sportsman, and the latter--what grieved him more,--his _team_; and
_both_ had ruined the character of their coursers in suffering them to
be beaten. Sad and dispirited, they returned to camp, where, after a
short consultation, it was unanimously resolved,--inasmuch as there was
no _other_ alternative,--to suffer the mules freely and forever to enjoy
the enlarged liberty which they had so nobly won.
The day was nearly spent, but we harnessed up our team and traveled four
miles, to the crossing of a creek, where we encamped for the night.
_May 10._ Re-considered our resolution of last evening, and spent the
morning looking for the mules--re-adopted the _same_ resolution, for the
_same_ reason, and then resumed our journey.
We advanced about eighteen miles through a very fertile and well watered
country, and possessing, along the banks of the water courses, a supply
of bur and white oak, ash, elm, and black walnut timber, amply
sufficient for all practical purposes. In our travel, we crossed a
stream called the Walkarusha, extending back from which, about two miles
in width, {14} we discovered a fine bottom covered with heavy bur oak
and black walnut timber. After passing through this bottom, the trail
strikes into a level and beautiful prairie, and crossing it--a distance
of four miles--rises gradually to the ridge between the Walkarusha and
the Caw, or Kansas river.[12] We encamped upon the ridge, in full view
of the two streams, which at this place are from six to eight miles
apart. The banks of both streams, as far as can be seen, are lined,
either way, with excellent timber: the country rises gradually from the
streams, for fifteen or twenty miles, with alternate forests and
prairies, presenting to the eye a truly splendid scene. I noticed here
almost a countless number of _mounds_, in different directions--some
covered with timber, others with long grass. The Caw or Kansas Indians
dwell along these streams. Through this part of the route there are
_two_ trails, uniting near our camp; the difference in the distance is
small.[13]
_May 11._ We traveled about twenty miles, and passed a company of
twenty-eight wagons. The road runs upon the ridge, which after a
distance of ten or twelve miles becomes a broad rolling prairie. As
night came on, we came up with the company of one hundred wagons which
we were in pursuit of: they were encamped upon the banks of a small
brook, four miles from the Kansas, into which it empties. We joined this
company. At dark the guard was stationed, who becoming tired of their
monotonous round of duty, amused themselves by shooting several dogs,
and by so doing excited no small tumult in the company, which after some
exertion on the part of the more orderly portion was quelled, and
tranquility restored.
_May 12._ We traveled about four miles to Caw or Kansas river. This is
a muddy stream, of about two hundred and fifty yards in width. We were
obliged to be ferried over it in a flat boat; and so large was our
company, and so slowly did the ferrymen carry on the necessary
operations, that darkness overtook us before half the wagons had crossed
the stream. Fearing molestation from the numerous Indians who were
prowling about, we were compelled to keep a strong guard around our
camp, and especially around our cattle; and when all the preliminaries
had been arranged, we betook ourselves to rest; but our tranquility was
soon interrupted by one of the most terrific thunder storms that I ever
witnessed. It appeared to me that the very _elements_ had broken loose,
and that each was engaging madly in a desperate struggle for the
mastery. All was confusion in our camp. The storm had so frightened the
cattle, {15} that they were perfectly furious and ungovernable, and
rushed through the guard, and dashed forward over the country before us:
nothing could be done to secure them, and we were obliged to allow them
to have out their race, and endeavor to guard our camp.
_May 13._ Early this morning we succeeded in finding and taking
possession of our cattle, and by noon all our wagons had crossed the
river. Soon after we took up our line of march, and after advancing
about three miles, encamped near the banks of Big Soldier creek, for the
purpose of organizing the company by an election of officers; the
officers _then_ acting having been elected to serve only until the
company should reach _this place_.[14] It was decided, when at
Independence, that _here_ there should be a thorough and complete
organization. Great interest had been manifested in regard to the matter
while upon the road; but _now_ when we had reached the spot and the
period for attending to the matter in earnest had arrived, the
excitement was intense. The most important officers to be elected were
the pilot and captain of the company. There were two candidates for the
office of pilot,--one a Mr. Adams, from Independence,--the other a Mr.
Meek, from the same place. Mr. Adams had once been as far west as Fort
Laramie, had in his possession Gilpin's Notes,[15] had engaged a
Spaniard, who had traveled over the whole route, to accompany him, and
moreover had been conspicuously instrumental in producing the "Oregon
fever." In case the company would elect him pilot, and pay him five
hundred dollars, _in advance_, he would bind himself to pilot them to
Fort Vancouver.
Mr. Meek, an old mountaineer, had spent several years as a trader and
trapper, among the mountains, and had once been through to Fort
Vancouver;[16] he proposed to pilot us through for two hundred and fifty
dollars, _thirty_ of which were to be paid in advance, and the balance
when we arrived at Fort Vancouver. A motion was then made to postpone
the election to the next day. While we were considering the motion, Meek
came running into the camp, and informed us that the Indians were
driving away our cattle. This intelligence caused the utmost confusion:
motions and propositions, candidates and their special friends, were
alike disregarded; _rifles_ were grasped, and _horses_ were hastily
mounted, and away we all galloped in pursuit. Our two thousand head of
cattle were now scattered over the prairie, at a distance of four or
five miles from the camp.
{16} About two miles from camp, in full view, up the prairie, was a
small Indian village; the greater part of our enraged people, with the
hope of hearing from the lost cattle, drove rapidly forward to this
place. As they approached the village, the poor Indians were seen
running to and fro, in great dismay--their women and children skulking
about and hiding themselves,--while the chiefs came forward, greeted our
party kindly, and by signs offered to smoke the pipe of peace, and
engage with them in trade. On being charged with the theft of our
cattle, they firmly asserted their innocence; and such was their
conduct, that the majority of the party was convinced they had been
wrongfully accused: but one poor fellow, who had just returned to the
village, and manifested great alarm upon seeing so many "pale faces,"
was taken; and failing to prove his innocence, was hurried away to camp
and placed under guard. Meanwhile, after the greater part of the company
had returned to camp, and the captain had assembled the _judges_, the
prisoner was arraigned at the bar for trial, and the solemn
interrogatory, "Are you guilty or not guilty," was propounded to him:
but to this, his only answer was--a grunt, the import of which the
honorable court not being able clearly to comprehend, his trial was
formally commenced and duly carried through. The evidence brought
forward against him not being sufficient to sustain the charge, he was
fully acquitted; and, when released, "_split_" for his wigwam in the
village. After the excitement had in some degree subsided, and the
affair was calmly considered, it was believed by most of us that the
false alarm in regard to the Indians had been raised with the design of
breaking up or postponing the election. If such _was_ the design, it
succeeded admirably.
_May 14._ Immediately after breakfast, the camp was assembled, and
proceeded to the election of officers and the business of organization.
The election resulted in the choice of S. L. Meek, as pilot, and Doctor
P. Welch,[17] formerly of Indiana, as captain, with a host of
subalterns; such as lieutenants, judges, sergeants, &c.
After these matters had been disposed of, we harnessed up our teams and
traveled about five miles, and encamped with Big Soldier creek on our
right hand and Caw river on our left.
The next day we were delayed in crossing Big Soldier creek, on account
of the steepness of its banks; and advanced only twelve miles through a
prairie country. Here {17} sixteen wagons separated from us, and we were
joined by fifteen others.
_May 17._ We traveled eighteen miles over a high, rolling prairie, and
encamped on the banks of Little Vermilion creek, in sight of a Caw
village. The principal chief resides at this village.[18] Our camp here
replenished their stores; and, although these Indians may be a set of
beggarly thieves, they conducted themselves honorably in their dealings
with us; in view of which we raised for their benefit a contribution of
tobacco, powder, lead, &c., and received in return many good wishes for
a pleasant and successful journey. After leaving them, we traveled about
twelve miles over a fertile prairie. In the evening, after we had
encamped and taken our supper, a wedding was attended to with peculiar
interest.
_May 19._ This day our camp did not rise. A growing spirit of
dissatisfaction had prevailed since the election; there were a great
number of disappointed candidates, who were unwilling to submit to the
will of the majority; and to such a degree had a disorderly spirit been
manifested, that it was deemed expedient to divide the company.
Accordingly, it was mutually agreed upon, to form, from the _whole_
body, three companies; and that, while each company should select its
own officers and manage its internal affairs, the pilot, and Capt.
Welsh, who had been elected by the whole company, should retain their
posts, and travel with the company in advance. It was also arranged,
that each company should take its turn in traveling in advance, for a
week at a time. A proposition was then made and acceded to, which
provided that a collection of funds, with which to pay the pilot, should
be made previous to the separation, and placed in the hands of some
person to be chosen by the _whole_, as treasurer, who should give bonds,
with approved security, for the fulfilment of his duty.
A treasurer was accordingly chosen, who after giving the necessary bond,
collected about one hundred and ninety dollars of the money promised;
some refused to pay, and others had no money in their possession. All
these and similar matters having been satisfactorily arranged, the
separation took place, and the companies proceeded to the election of
the necessary officers. The company to which I had attached myself,
consisting of thirty wagons, insisted that I should officiate as their
captain, and with some reluctance I consented. We dispensed with many of
the offices and formalities which {18} existed in the former company,
and after adopting certain regulations respecting the government of the
company, and settling other necessary preliminaries, we retired to rest
for the night.
_May 20._ We have this day traveled fifteen miles, through a prairie
country, with occasionally a small grove along the streams.
_May 22._ Yesterday after moving thirteen miles we crossed Big
Vermillion, and encamped a mile beyond its west bank; we found a
limestone country, quite hilly, indeed almost mountainous. To-day we
have crossed Bee, and Big Blue creeks; the latter stream is lined with
oak, walnut, and hickory.[19] We encamped two and a half miles west of
it. During the night it rained very hard. Our cattle became frightened
and all ran away.
_May 23._ Made to-day but eight miles. Our pilot notified us that this
would be our last opportunity to procure timber for axle trees, wagon
tongues, &c., and we provided a supply of this important material. Our
cattle were all found.
_May 25._ Early this morning we were passed by Col. Kearney and his
party of dragoons, numbering about three hundred. They have with them
nineteen wagons drawn by mules, and drive fifty head of cattle and
twenty-five head of sheep. They go to the South Pass of the Rocky
Mountains.[20] Our travel of to-day and yesterday is thirty-two miles,
during which we have crossed several small streams, skirted by trees.
The soil looks fertile.
_May 26._ Overtook Capt. Welsh's company to-day. We passed twelve miles
through a rolling prairie region, and encamped on Little Sandy.
_May 27._ As it was now the turn of our company to travel in advance, we
were joined by Capt. Welsh and our pilot. The country is of the same
character with that we passed through on yesterday, and is highly
adapted to the purpose of settlement, having a good soil, and streams
well lined with timber.
_May 31._ In the afternoon of the 28th we struck the Republican fork of
Blue River,[21] along which for fifty miles lay the route we were
traveling. Its banks afford oak, ash and hickory, and often open out
into wide and fertile bottoms. Here and there we observed cotton wood
and willow. The pea vine grows wild, in great abundance on the bottoms.
The pea is smaller than our common garden pea and afforded us a {19}
pleasant vegetable. We saw also a few wild turkies. To-day we reached a
point where a trail turns from this stream, a distance of twenty-five
miles, to the Platte or Nebraska river. We kept the left hand route, and
some nine or ten miles beyond this trail, we made our last encampment on
the Republican Fork.
_June 1._ We set out at the usual hour and crossed over the country to
Platte river; having measured the road with the chain, we ascertained
the distance to be eighteen and a half miles, from our encampment of
last night. It is all a rolling prairie; and in one spot, we found in
pools a little standing water. Some two miles before reaching the Platte
bottom the prairie is extremely rough; and as far as the eye can reach
up and down that river, it is quite sandy.[22] We encamped near a marshy
spot, occasioned by the overflow of the river, opposite an island
covered with timber, to which we were obliged to go through the shallows
of the river for fuel, as the main land is entirely destitute of trees.
Near us the Platte bottom is three and a half miles wide, covered with
excellent grass, which our cattle ate greedily, being attracted by a
salt like substance which covers the grass and lies sprinkled on the
surface of the ground. We observed large herds of antelope in our travel
of to-day. In the evening it rained very hard.
_June 2._ Our week of advance traveling being expired, we resolved to
make a short drive, select a suitable spot, and lay by for washing. We
accordingly encamped about six miles up Platte river. As I had been
elected captain but for two weeks, and my term was now expired, a new
election was held, which resulted in the choice of the same person. The
captain, Welsh, who was originally elected by all the companies, had
been with us one week, and some dissatisfaction was felt, by our
company, at the degree of authority he seemed disposed to exercise. We
found, too, that it was bad policy to require the several companies to
wait for each other;--our supply of provision was considered barely
sufficient for the journey, and it behooved us [to] make the best use of
our time. At present one of the companies was supposed to be two or
three days travel in the rear. We adopted a resolution desiring the
several companies to abandon the arrangement that required each to delay
for the others; and that each company should have the use of the pilot
according to its turn. Our proposition was not, for the present,
accepted by the other companies. While we were at our washing encampment
one {20} of the companies passed us, the other still remaining in the
rear.
_June 3._ Having traveled about eight miles, we halted at noon, making
short drives, to enable the rear company to join us. We have no tidings
of it as yet. We met seventy-five or eighty Pawnee Indians returning
from their spring hunt.[23]
_June 5._ Yesterday we traveled about twelve miles, passing captain
Stephens, with his advance company. To-day we traveled about the same
distance, suffering Stephens' company to pass us.[24] At noon they were
delayed by the breaking of an axletree of one of their wagons, and we
again passed them, greatly to their offence. They refused to accede to
our terms, and we determined to act on our own responsibility. We
therefore dissolved our connection with the other companies, and
thenceforward acted independently of them.
_June 6._ We advanced twenty miles to-day. We find a good road, but an
utter absence of ordinary fuel. We are compelled to substitute for it
buffalo dung, which burns freely.
_June 7._ We find in our sixteen miles travel to-day that the grass is
very poor in the Platte bottoms, having been devoured by the buffalo
herds. These bottoms are from two to four miles in width, and are
intersected, at every variety of interval, by paths made by the
buffaloes, from the bluffs to the river. These paths are remarkable in
their appearance, being about fifteen inches wide, and four inches deep,
and worn into the soil as smoothly as they could be cut with a spade.
We formed our encampment on the bank of the river, with three
emigrating companies within as many miles of us; two above and one
below; one of fifty-two wagons, one of thirteen, and one of
forty-three--ours having thirty-seven. We find our cattle growing lame,
and most of the company are occupied in attempting to remedy the
lameness. The prairie having been burnt, dry, sharp stubs of clotted
grass remain, which are very hard, and wear and irritate the feet of the
cattle. The foot becomes dry and feverish, and cracks in the opening of
the hoof. In this opening the rough blades of grass and dirt collect,
and the foot generally festers, and swells very much. Our mode of
treating it was, to wash the foot with strong soap suds, scrape or cut
away all the diseased flesh, and then pour boiling pitch or tar upon the
sore. If applied early this remedy will cure. Should the heel become
worn out, apply tar or pitch, and singe with a hot iron. At our
encampment to-night we have abundance of wood for fuel.
{21} _June 8._ We advanced to-day about twelve miles. The bottom near
our camp is narrow, but abounds in timber, being covered with ash; it,
however, affords poor grazing. So far as we have traveled along the
Platte, we find numerous islands in the river, and some of them quite
large. In the evening a young man, named Foster,[25] was wounded by the
accidental discharge of a gun. The loaded weapon, from which its owner
had neglected to remove the cap, was placed at the tail of a wagon; as
some one was taking out a tent-cloth, the gun was knocked down, and went
off. The ball passed through a spoke of the wagon-wheel, struck the
felloe, and glanced. Foster was walking some two rods from the wagon,
when the half spent ball struck him in the back, near the spine; and,
entering between the skin and the ribs, came out about three inches from
where it entered, making merely a flesh wound. A small fragment of the
ball had lodged in his arm.
_June 9._ The morning is rainy. To-day we passed Stephens' company,
which passed us on yesterday. Our dissensions are all healed; and they
have decided to act upon our plan.
_June 10._ Yesterday we traveled fifteen miles; to-day the same
distance. We find the grazing continues poor. In getting to our
encampment, we passed through a large dog town. These singular
communities may be seen often, along the banks of the Platte, occupying
various areas, from one to five hundred acres. The one in question
covered some two hundred or three hundred acres. The prairie-dog is
something larger than a common sized gray squirrel, of a dun color; the
head resembles that of a bull dog: the tail is about three inches in
length. Their food is prairie grass. Like rabbits, they burrow in the
ground, throwing out heaps of earth, and often large stones, which
remain at the mouth of their holes. The entrance to their burrows is
about four inches in diameter, and runs obliquely into the earth about
three feet, when the holes ramify in every direction and connect with
each other on every side. Some kind of police seems to be observed among
them; for at the approach of man, one of the dogs will run to the
entrance of a burrow, and, squatting down, utter a shrill bark. At
once, the smaller part of the community will retreat to their holes,
while numbers of the larger dogs will squat, like the first, at their
doors, and unite in the barking. A near approach drives them all under
ground. It is singular, {22} but true, that the little screech-owl and
the rattlesnake keep them company in their burrows. I have frequently
seen the owls, but not the snake, with them. The mountaineers, however,
inform me, that they often catch all three in the same hole. The dog is
eaten by the Indians, with quite a relish; and often by the
mountaineers. I am not prepared to speak of its qualities as an article
of food.
During the night, a mule, belonging to a Mr. Risley,[26] of our company,
broke from its tether, and in attempting to secure it, its owner was
repeatedly shot at by the guard; but, fortunately, was not hit. He had
run from his tent without having been perceived by the guard, and was
crawling over the ground, endeavoring to seize the trail rope, which was
tied to his mule's neck. The guard mistook him for an Indian, trying to
steal horses, and called to him several times; but a high wind blowing
he did not hear. The guard leveled and fired, but his gun did not go
off. Another guard, standing near, presented his piece and fired; the
cap burst, without discharging the load. The first guard, by this time
prepared, fired a second time, without effect. By this time the camp was
roused, and nearly all seized their fire-arms, when we discovered that
the supposed Indian was one of our own party. We regarded it as
providential that the man escaped, as the guard was a good shot, and his
mark was not more than eighty yards distant. This incident made us
somewhat more cautious about leaving the camp, without notifying the
guard.
_June 11._ To-day we traveled ten or twelve miles. Six miles brought us
to the lower crossing of Platte river, which is five or six miles above
the forks, and where the high ground commences between the two streams.
There is a trail which turns over the bluff to the left; we however took
the right, and crossed the river.[27] The south fork is at this place
about one fourth of a mile wide, and from one to three feet deep, with a
sandy bottom, which made the fording so heavy that we were compelled to
double teams. The water through the day is warm; but as the nights are
cool, it is quite cool enough in the morning. On the west bank of the
river was encamped Brown's company, which passed us whilst we were
organizing at Caw River. We passed them, and proceeded along the west
side of the south fork, and encamped on the river bank. At night our
hunters brought in some buffalo meat.
_June 13._ Yesterday we followed the river about thirteen miles, and
encamped on its bank, where the road between the {23} two forks strikes
across the ridge toward the North fork. To-day we have followed that
route: directly across, the distance does not exceed four miles: but the
road runs obliquely between the two streams, and reaches the North fork
about nine miles from our last camp. We found quite a hill to descend,
as the road runs up the bottom a half mile and then ascends the bluff.
Emigrants should keep the bluff sixteen or seventeen miles. We descended
a ravine and rested on the bank of the river.
_June 15._ Yesterday we advanced eight miles, and halted to wash and
rest our teams. We have remained all this day in camp. At daylight a
herd of buffalo approached near the camp; they were crossing the river,
but as soon as they caught the scent, they retreated to the other side.
It was a laughable sight to see them running in the water. Some of our
men having been out with their guns, returned at noon overloaded with
buffalo meat. We then commenced jerking it. This is a process resorted
to for want of time or means to cure meat by salting. The meat is sliced
thin, and a scaffold prepared, by setting forks in the ground, about
three feet high, and laying small poles or sticks crosswise upon them.
The meat is laid upon those pieces, and a slow fire built beneath; the
heat and smoke completes the process in half a day; and with an
occasional sunning the meat will keep for months.
An unoccupied spectator, who could have beheld our camp to-day, would
think it a singular spectacle. The hunters returning with the spoil;
some erecting scaffolds, and others drying the meat. Of the women, some
were washing, some ironing, some baking. At two of the tents the fiddle
was employed in uttering its unaccustomed voice among the solitudes of
the Platte; at one tent I heard singing; at others the occupants were
engaged in reading, some the Bible, others poring over novels. While all
this was going on, that nothing might be wanting to complete the
harmony of the scene, a Campbellite preacher, named Foster, was reading
a hymn, preparatory to religious worship. The fiddles were silenced, and
those who had been occupied with that amusement, betook themselves to
cards. Such is but a miniature of the great world we had left behind us,
when we crossed the line that separates civilized man from the
wilderness. But even here the variety of occupation, the active exercise
of body and mind, either in labor or pleasure, the commingling of evil
and good, show that the likeness is a true one.
{24} _June 17._ On our travel of eight miles, yesterday, we found the
bluffs quite high, often approaching with their rocky fronts to the
water's edge, and now and then a cedar nodding at the top. Our camp,
last night, was in a cedar and ash grove, with a high, frowning bluff
overhanging us; but a wide bottom, with fine grass around us, and near
at hand an excellent spring. To-day five miles over the ridge brought us
to Ash Hollow. Here the trail, which follows the east side of the South
fork of Platte, from where we crossed it, connects with this trail.[28]
The road then turns down Ash Hollow to the river; a quarter of a mile
from the latter is a fine spring, and around it wood and grass in
abundance. Our road, to-day, has been very sandy. The bluffs are
generally rocky, at times presenting perpendicular cliffs of three
hundred feet high. We passed two companies, both of which we had before
passed; but whilst we were lying by on the North fork, they had traveled
up the South fork and descended Ash Hollow.
_June 18._ We met a company of mountaineers from Fort Laramie, who had
started for the settlements early in the season, with flat-boats loaded
with buffalo robes, and other articles of Indian traffic. The river
became so low, that they were obliged to lay by; part of the company had
returned to the fort for teams; others were at the boat landing, while
fifteen of the party were footing their way to the States. They were a
jolly set of fellows. Four wagons joined us from one of the other
divisions, and among them was John Nelson, with his family, formerly of
Franklin county, Indiana. We traveled fifteen miles, passing Captain
Smith's company.
_June 19._ Five miles, to-day, brought us to Spring creek; eleven miles
further to another creek, the name of which I could not ascertain; there
we encamped, opposite the Solitary Tower.[29] This singular natural
object is a stupendous pile of sand and clay, so cemented as to resemble
stone, but which crumbles away at the slightest touch. I conceive it is
about seven miles distant from the mouth of the creek; though it appears
to be not more than three. The height of this tower is somewhere between
six hundred and eight hundred feet from the level of the river. Viewed
from the road, the beholder might easily imagine he was gazing upon
some ancient structure of the old world. A nearer approach dispels the
illusion, and it looks, as it is, rough and unseemly. It can be
ascended, at its north side, by clambering up the rock; holes having
been cut in its face for that purpose. The second, or {25} main bench,
can be ascended with greater ease at an opening on the south side, where
the water has washed out a crevice large enough to admit the body; so
that by pushing against the sides of the crevice one can force himself
upward fifteen or twenty feet, which places the adventurer on the slope
of the second bench. Passing round the eastern point of the tower, the
ascent may be continued up its north face. A stream of water runs along
the north-eastern side, some twenty rods distant from the tower; and
deep ravines are cut out by the washing of the water from the tower to
the creek. Near by stands another pile of materials, similar to that
composing the tower, but neither so large nor so high. The bluffs in
this vicinity appear to be of the same material. Between this tower and
the river stretches out a rolling plain, barren and desolate enough.
_June 20._ Traveling fourteen miles, we halted in the neighborhood of
the Chimney Rock. This is a sharp-pointed rock, of much the same
material as the Solitary Tower, standing at the base of the bluff, and
four or five miles from the road. It is visible at a distance of thirty
miles, and has the unpoetical appearance of a hay-stack, with a pole
running far above its top.[30]
_June 24._ Since the 20th we have traveled about sixty-two miles, and
are now at Fort Laramie; making our whole travel from Independence about
six hundred and thirty miles. On the 22d we passed over Scott's Bluffs,
where we found a good spring, and abundance of wood and grass. A
melancholy tradition accounts for the name of this spot. A party who had
been trading with the Indians were returning to the States and
encountering a band of hostile savages, were robbed of their peltries
and food. As they struggled homeward, one of the number, named Scott,
fell sick and could not travel. The others remained with him, until the
sufferer, despairing of ever beholding his home, prevailed on his
companions to abandon him. They left him alone in the wilderness,
several miles from this spot. Here human bones were afterwards found;
and, supposing he had crawled here and died, the subsequent travelers
have given his name to the neighboring bluff.[31]
_June 25._ Our camp is stationary to-day; part of the emigrants are
shoeing their horses and oxen; others are trading at the fort and with
the Indians. Flour, sugar, coffee, tea, tobacco, powder and lead, sell
readily, at high prices. In the {26} afternoon we gave the Indians a
feast, and held a long _talk_ with them. Each family, as they could best
spare it, contributed a portion of bread, meat, coffee or sugar, which
being cooked, a table was set by spreading buffalo skins upon the
ground, and arranging the provisions upon them.
Around this attractive board, the Indian chiefs and their principal men
seated themselves, occupying one fourth of the circle; the remainder of
the male Indians made out the semi-circle; the rest of the circle was
completed by the whites. The squaws and younger Indians formed an outer
semicircular row immediately behind their dusky lords and fathers. Two
stout young warriors were now designated as waiters, and all the
preparations being completed, the Indian chiefs and principal men shook
hands, and at a signal the white chief performed the same ceremony,
commencing with the principal chief, and saluting him and those of his
followers who composed the first division of the circle; the others
being considered inferiors, were not thus noticed.
The talk preceded the dinner. A trader acted as interpreter. The chief
informed us, that "a long while ago some white chiefs passed up the
Missouri, through his country, saying they were the red man's friends,
and that as the red man found them, so would he find all the other pale
faces. This country belongs to the red man, but his white brethren
travels through, shooting the game and scaring it away. Thus the Indian
loses all that he depends upon to support his wives and children. The
children of the red man cry for food, but there is no food. But on the
other hand, the Indian profits by the trade with the white man. He was
glad to see us and meet us as friends. It was the custom when the pale
faces passed through his country, to make presents to the Indians of
powder, lead, &c. His tribe was very numerous, but the most of the
people had gone to the mountains to hunt. Before the white man came, the
game was tame, and easily caught, with the bow and arrow. Now the white
man has frightened it, and the red man must go to the mountains. The red
man needed long guns." This, with much more of the like, made up the
talk of the chief, when a reply from our side was expected.
As it devolved on me to play the part of the white chief, I told my red
brethren, that we were journeying to the great waters of the west. Our
great father owned a large country there, and we were going to settle
upon it. For this purpose we brought with us our wives and little ones.
We were compelled {27} to pass through the red man's country, but we
traveled as friends, and not as enemies. As friends we feasted them,
shook them by the hand, and smoked with them the pipe of peace. They
must know that we came among them as friends, for we brought with us our
wives and children. The red man does not take his squaws into battle:
neither does the pale face. But friendly as we felt, we were ready for
enemies; and if molested, we should punish the offenders. Some of us
expected to return. Our fathers, our brothers and our children were
coming behind us, and we hoped the red man would treat them kindly. We
did not expect to meet so many of them; we were glad to see them, and to
hear that they were the white man's friends. We met peacefully--so let
us part. We had set them a feast, and were glad to hold a talk with
them; but we were not traders, and had no powder or ball to give them.
We were going to plough and to plant the ground, and had nothing more
than we needed for ourselves. We told them to eat what was before them,
and be satisfied; and that we had nothing more to say.
The two Indian servants began their services by placing a tin cup before
each of the guests, always waiting first upon the chiefs; they then
distributed the bread and cakes, until each person had as much as it was
supposed he would eat; the remainder being delivered to two squaws, who
in like manner served the squaws and children. The waiters then
distributed the meat and coffee. All was order. No one touched the food
before him until all were served, when at a signal from the chief the
eating began. Having filled themselves, the Indians retired, taking with
them all that they were unable to eat.
This is a branch of the Sioux nation, and those living in this region
number near fifteen hundred lodges.[32] They are a healthy, athletic,
good-looking set of men, and have according to the Indian code, a
respectable sense of honor, but will steal when they can do so without
fear of detection. On this occasion, however, we missed nothing but a
frying pan, which a squaw slipped under her blanket, and made off with.
As it was a trifling loss, we made no complaint to the chief.
Here are two forts. Fort Laramie, situated upon the west side of
Laramie's fork, two miles from Platte river, belongs to the North
American Fur Company.[33]
The fort is built of _adobes_. The walls are about two feet thick, and
twelve or fourteen feet high, the tops being picketed or spiked. Posts
are planted in these walls, and support the timber for the roof. {28}
They are then covered with mud. In the centre is an open square, perhaps
twenty-five yards each way, along the sides of which are ranged the
dwellings, store rooms, smith shop, carpenter's shop, offices, &c., all
fronting upon the inner area. There are two principal entrances; one at
the north, the other at the south. On the eastern side is an additional
wall, connected at its extremities with the first, enclosing ground for
stables and carrell. This enclosure has a gateway upon its south side,
and a passage into the square of the principal enclosure. At a short
distance from the fort is a field of about four acres, in which, by way
of experiment, corn is planted; but from its present appearance it will
probably prove a failure. Fort John stands about a mile below Fort
Laramie, and is built of the same material as the latter, but is not so
extensive. Its present occupants are a company from St. Louis.[34]
_June 26._ This day, leaving Fort Laramie behind us, we advanced along
the bank of the river, into the vast region that was still between us
and our destination. After moving five miles, we found a good spot for a
camp, and as our teams still required rest, we halted and encamped, and
determined to repose until Saturday the 28th.
_June 28._ A drive of ten miles brought us to Big Spring, a creek which
bursts out at the base of a hill, and runs down a sandy hollow. The
spring is one fourth of a mile below the road. We found the water too
warm to be palatable.[35] Five miles beyond the creek the road forks; we
took the right hand trail, which is the best of the two, and traversed
the Black Hills, as they are called. The season has been so dry that
vegetation is literally parched up; of course the grazing is miserable.
After proceeding eighteen miles we encamped on Bitter Cottonwood.[36]
_June 29._ To-day we find the country very rough, though our road is not
bad. In the morning some of our cattle were missing, and four of the
company started back to hunt for them. At the end of fourteen miles we
rested at Horse Shoe creek, a beautiful stream of clear water, lined
with trees, and with wide bottoms on each side, covered with excellent
grass. At this point our road was about three miles from the river.[37]
_July 1._ As the men who left the company on the 29th, to look for our
lost cattle, were not returned, we remained in {29} camp yesterday. Game
seemed abundant along the creek, and our efforts to profit by it were
rewarded with three elk and three deer. To-day our cattle hunters still
remain behind. We sent back a reinforcement, and hitching up our teams
advanced about sixteen miles. Eight miles brought us to the Dalles of
Platte, where the river bursts through a mountain spur. Perpendicular
cliffs, rising abruptly from the water, five hundred or six hundred feet
high, form the left bank of the river. These cliffs present various
strata, some resembling flint, others like marble, lime, &c. The most
interesting feature of these magnificent masses, is the variety of
colors that are presented; yellow, red, black and white, and all the
shades between, as they blend and are lost in each other. On the top
nods a tuft of scrubby cedars. Upon the south side, a narrow slope
between the bluff and river, affords a pass for a footman along the
water's edge, while beyond the bluff rises abruptly. Frequently cedar
and wild sage is to be seen. I walked up the river a distance of half a
mile, when I reached a spot where the rocks had tumbled down, and found
something of a slope, by which I could, with the assistance of a long
pole, and another person sometimes pushing and then pulling, ascend; we
succeeded in clambering up to the top--which proved to be a naked, rough
black rock, with here and there a scrubby cedar and wild sage bush. It
appeared to be a place of resort for mountain sheep and bears. We
followed this ridge south to where it gradually descended to the road.
The river in this _kanyon_ is about one hundred and fifty yards wide,
and looks deep.[38] At the eastern end of this _kanyon_ comes in a
stream which, from appearance, conveys torrents of water at certain
seasons of the year. Here, too, is a very good camp. By going up the
right hand branch five or six miles, then turning to the right up one of
the ridges, and crossing a small branch (which joins the river six or
seven miles above the _kanyon_) and striking the road on the ridge three
miles east of the Big Timber creek, a saving might be made of at least
ten miles travel. We did not travel this route; but, from the appearance
of the country, there would be no difficulty.
_July 2._ This day we traveled about sixteen miles. The road left the
river bottom soon after we started. A trail, however, crosses the bottom
for about two miles, and then winds back to the hill. The nearest road
is up a small sandy ravine, for two miles, then turn to the right up a
ridge, and follow this ridge for eight or ten miles. At the distance of
thirteen {30} or fourteen miles, the road which turned to the left near
the Big Spring, connects with this. The road then turns down the hill to
the right, into a dry branch, which it descends to Big Timber creek,
where we encamped.[39]
_July 3._ This day we traveled about fifteen miles. Six miles brought us
to a small branch, where is a good camp. Near this branch there is
abundance of marble, variegated with blue and red, but it is full of
seams. The hills in this vicinity are of the red shale formation. In the
mountain near by is stone coal. The hills were generally covered with
grass. The streams are lined with cotton wood, willow and boxalder. The
road was very dusty.
_July 4._ We traveled about fifteen miles to-day, the road generally
good, with a few difficult places. Two wagons upset, but little damage
was done. We crossed several beautiful streams flowing from the Black
hills; they are lined with timber. To-day, as on yesterday, we found
abundance of red, yellow and black currants, with some gooseberries,
along the streams.
_July 5._ We this day traveled about twelve miles. Three miles brought
us to Deer creek.[40] Here is an excellent camp ground. Some very good
bottom land. The banks are lined with timber. Stone coal was found near
the road. This would be a suitable place for a fort, as the soil and
timber is better than is generally found along the upper Platte. Game in
abundance, such as elk, buffalo, deer, antelope and bear. The timber is
chiefly cotton wood, but there is pine on the mountains within ten or
twelve miles. The road was generally along the river bottom, and much of
the way extremely barren. We encamped on the bank of the river.
_July 6._ In traveling through the sand and hot sun, our wagon tires had
become loose; and we had wedged until the tire would no longer remain on
the wheels. One or two axletrees and tongues had been broken, and we
found it necessary to encamp and repair them. For this purpose all hands
were busily employed. We had neither bellows nor anvil, and of course
could not cut and weld tire. But as a substitute, we took off the tire,
shaved thin hoops and tacked them on the felloes, heated our tire and
replaced it. This we found to answer a good purpose.
_July 7._ This day we traveled about ten miles. In crossing a small
ravine, an axletree of one of the wagons was broken. {31} The road is
mostly on the river bottom. Much of the country is barren.
_July 8._ Six miles travel brought us to the crossing of the north fork
of the Platte. At 1 o'clock, P. M. all were safely over, and we
proceeded up half a mile to a grove of timber and encamped.[41] Near the
crossing was encamped Colonel Kearney's regiment of dragoons, on their
return from the South Pass. Many of them were sick.
_July 9._ We traveled about ten miles this day, and encamped at the
Mineral Spring. The road leaves the Platte at the crossing, and passes
over the _Red Buttes_.[42] The plains in this region are literally
covered with buffalo.
_July 10._ To-day we traveled about ten miles. The range is very poor,
and it has become necessary to divide into small parties, in order to
procure forage for our cattle. Out of the company five divisions were
formed. In my division we had eleven wagons; and we travel more
expeditiously, with but little difficulty in finding grass for our
cattle.
_July 11._ We this day traveled about twelve miles. Soon after starting
we passed an excellent spring: it is to the right of the road, in a
thicket of willows. One fourth of a mile further the road ascends a
hill, winds round and passes several marshy springs. The grass is very
good, but is confined to patches. Our camp was on a small branch running
into the Sweet Water.
_July 12._ This day we arrived at _Independence Rock_. This is a
solitary pile of gray granite, standing in an open plain. It is about
one-eighth of a mile long and some six or eight rods wide, and is
elevated about sixty or seventy feet above the plain. On the
north-eastern side the slope is sufficiently gradual to be easily
ascended. Portions of it are covered with inscriptions of the names of
travelers, with the dates of their arrival--some carved, some in black
paint, and others in red. Sweet Water, a stream heading in the Wind
River Mountains, and entering the Platte, runs immediately along its
southern side, leaving a strip of some twenty or thirty feet of grassy
plain between the base of the rock and the creek. We encamped two miles
above the rock, having traveled about thirteen miles.[43]
_July 13._ We traveled about thirteen miles this day. Three miles
brought us to the _Gap_, or _Devil's Gate_, as it is sometimes called.
The Sweet Water breaks through a spur of the mountain, which from
appearance is four or five hundred feet high. {32} On the south side the
rocks project over the stream, but on the north slope back a little. The
whole mountain is a mass of gray granite rock, destitute of vegetation,
save an occasional scrubby cedar or bush of artemisia. From where the
creek enters to where it emerges from this _kanyon_ is three or four
hundred yards. The water rushes through like a torrent. At the distance
of one hundred rods south of this is the Gap, where the road passes; but
the rock is not so high. South of this again is another gap, perhaps
half or three-fourths of a mile wide. The rocks there rise mountain
high.[44] South-west of this is a valley extending as far as the eye can
penetrate. As the road passes through this gap, it bears to the right,
up the valley of the Sweet Water.
_July 14._ This day we traveled about twenty-two miles. The road
sometimes leaves the creek for several miles, and passes over a barren,
sandy plain; no kind of vegetation but the wild sage. We this day met a
party of men from California and Oregon. A portion of those from
California spoke unfavorably of that country; and those from Oregon
spoke highly of the latter country. On this day's march we came in sight
of the long-looked-for snowcapped mountains. They were the Wind River
Mountains. On our right is a mass of naked rock; on our left and to the
distance of ten or twelve miles is a high range of mountains, mostly
covered with timber; whilst in the valley there is no timber, and much
of the plain entirely destitute of vegetation. We encamped near the
Narrows.[45]
_July 15._ We traveled about eleven miles to-day. There are two trails,
which diverge below the Narrows. The nearest and best is that to the
right up the creek, crossing it several times; they unite again near
where we encamped. The road was good, but as usual very dusty. Our
hunters wounded a buffalo, and drove him into camp. About twenty men ran
to meet him. He gave them battle. They fired a volley that brought him
to his knees, and whilst in that position Mr. Creighton (a young man
from Ohio) ran across the creek, intending to shoot the animal in the
head. When Creighton had approached within ten or twelve feet, the
enraged animal sprung to his feet and made at him. Creighton wheeled and
"split" for the camp; the buffalo pursuing to near the bank of the
creek, where he stopped. By this time others had arrived with guns, and
the buffalo was compelled to yield. In the "spree" one of my horses was
shot with a ball in the {33} knee; no bones were broken, and he was able
to travel, but he was a long time very lame.
_July 16._ This day we traveled about twenty-six miles. Four miles
brought us to a marshy bottom, where was very good grass. In the centre
of this quagmire and near where the road crosses the bottom is a spring
of good water. Eight miles brought us to a small stream; but little
grass. Six miles brought us to Sweet Water; crossed and left it and
struck it again in six or eight miles. The grass here is good. Wild sage
was our only fuel. This night there was a heavy frost.
_July 17._ Our cattle being much fatigued, we drove but five miles. The
road is up the creek bottom, which is mostly covered with grass. A heavy
frost: ice formed in buckets one-fourth of an inch thick. We here found
the celebrated mountaineer Walker, who was traveling to Bridger's
fort.[46]
_July 18._ We traveled about twenty-two miles this day. The road ascends
the bluff and winds among rocky hills for six miles, passing over ledges
that are entirely naked for rods. The appearance of the country is
extremely barren. We passed several rivulets where small parties may
obtain grazing for their stock. The day has been quite cold. The Wind
River Mountains are on our right, about twenty miles distant. They
presented a most grand appearance. Huge masses of ice and snow piled up
peak upon peak, with large bodies of timber covering portions of the
mountains. We viewed the southern termination of this range; but they
extend to the north further than the eye can penetrate. The country
between us and the mountains is rolling, and much of it apparently
barren. Hard frost.
_July 19._ This morning we ascended the bank on the south side of Sweet
Water. Six miles brought us again to the creek, where is good grass in
the bottom and willow for fuel. We crossed, went up the bottom two
miles, and crossed back and left the Sweet Water. _This day we passed
over the dividing ridge which separates the waters flowing into the
Atlantic from those which find their way into the Pacific Ocean._ WE HAD
REACHED THE SUMMIT OF THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. Six miles brought us to a
spring, the waters of which run into Green river, or the great Colorado
of the west.[47]--Here, then, we hailed OREGON. Here we found a bottom
covered with good grass, where we halted until four o'clock, P. M., when
we again hitched up and took the plain for Little Sandy. Ten miles
brought us to a dry branch, where by digging to the {34} depth of one
foot we procured water; but it was brackish, and had a very unpleasant
taste. A white sediment, such as we had noticed elsewhere on the road,
covered the surface of the ground. Ten miles more brought us to Little
Sandy, which we reached at one o'clock in the night, having traveled
thirty-one miles. The road was over a barren plain of light sand, and
was very dusty. From the spring to Little Sandy there is no vegetation
but the wild sage, and it had a withered appearance. The night was cold,
freezing quite hard. Little Sandy has its source in the Wind river
mountains.[48] Along this stream is a narrow bottom, covered with grass
and willows. We are now out of the range of the buffalo, and although
not often mentioned, we have seen thousands of these huge animals. There
have been so many companies of emigrants in advance of us, that they
have frightened the buffalo from the road. We daily see hundreds of
antelope.
_July 20._ This day we traveled about thirteen miles, to Big Sandy. The
road was over a level sandy plain, covered with wild sage. At Little
Sandy the road forks--one taking to the right and striking Big Sandy in
six miles, and thence forty miles to Green river, striking the latter
some thirty or forty miles above the lower ford, and thence to Big Bear
river, striking it about fifteen miles below the old road. By taking
this trail two and a half days' travel may be saved; but in the forty
miles between Big Sandy and Green river there is no water, and but
little grass. Camps may be had within reasonable distances between Green
and Bear rivers.[49] The left hand trail, which we took, twelve miles
from Little Sandy strikes the Big Sandy, follows down it and strikes
Green river above the mouth of Big Sandy.
_July 21._ We traveled about fourteen miles to-day. Six miles brought
us to Green river, or Colorado. This is a beautiful clear stream, about
one hundred yards wide, with a rapid current over a gravelly bottom. It
flows through a barren, sandy country; occasionally the bottoms spread
to a mile in width, covered with grass. There is mostly a belt of timber
along the banks of the stream.--Emigrants had been in the habit of
crossing the river on rafts. We succeeded in finding a place where, by
hoisting up the wagon-beds six inches, we could ford the river without
damaging our goods. This was done by cutting poles and placing them
under the wagon-beds, and in one hour we were all safely over. We
proceeded down the river eight miles, and encamped in a grove near some
{35} cabins built by a party of traders. There is an abundance of fish
in this stream, and we had great sport in fishing.
_July 23._ This day we traveled about fifteen miles. The road leaves
Green river near our camp, and passes over a high, barren country, to
Black's fork; this we followed up some four miles and encamped.[50] As
upon other streams, there is occasionally a grassy bottom with a little
cotton wood and willow brush. Snowy mountains to be seen in the south.
_July 24._ We traveled, to-day, about fourteen miles, over a barren
country, crossing the creek several times. We noticed a number of piles
of stone and earth, some forty or fifty feet high, scattered in
different directions, giving the appearance of the general surface
having been worn away to that extent by the ravages of time and the
elements.
_July 25._ This day we traveled about sixteen miles, crossed the creek
several times, and encamped near Fort Bridger. This is a trading fort
owned by Bridger and Bascus. It is built of poles and daubed with mud;
it is a shabby concern.[51] Here are about twenty-five lodges of
Indians, or rather white trappers' lodges occupied by their Indian
wives. They have a good supply of robes, dressed deer, elk and antelope
skins, coats, pants, moccasins, and other Indian fixens, which they
trade low for flour, pork, powder, lead, blankets, butcher-knives,
spirits, hats, ready made clothes, coffee, sugar, &c. They ask for a
horse from twenty-five to fifty dollars, in trade. Their wives are
mostly of the Pyentes and Snake Indians.[52] They have a herd of cattle,
twenty-five or thirty goats and some sheep. They generally abandon this
fort during the winter months. At this place the bottoms are wide, and
covered with good grass. Cotton wood timber in plenty. The stream
abounds with trout.
_July 26._ Remained at the fort the whole of this day.
_July 27._ We traveled about eight miles, to-day, to Little Muddy. The
grazing and water bad. Several bad hills.
_July 28._ To-day we traveled about sixteen miles. Ten miles brought us
to the Big Muddy.[53] Country barren. Our course is up the Big Muddy,
and nearly north. Encamped on the creek. Very poor grazing. This is a
limestone country.
_July 29._ This day we traveled about sixteen miles. Our course is still
up the Muddy. Emigrants would do well to push on up to near the head of
this creek, as the grass is good, {36} and there are excellent springs
of water. The country is very rough. We saw a few beaver dams.
_July 30._ We traveled about twenty-five miles this day. Twelve miles
brought us to the dividing ridge between the waters of Green and Bear
rivers. The ridge is high, but the ascent is not difficult. From this
ridge the scenery is most delightful. In one view is the meanders of
Muddy creek. Two companies with large herds of cattle are winding their
way up the valley.
The bold mountains on either side are very high and rugged. In front and
at the distance of twelve miles is the valley of Big Bear river. A
ravine at our feet cuts the spur of the mountain, and empties its waters
into Bear river. The valley of Bear river is four or five miles wide,
with willows along its banks. At a distance beyond the Bear river is a
range of high mountains, stretching as far as the eye can reach, their
snowy tops glistening in the rays of the sun. The mountains near the
trail are rough and have a singular appearance; the earth being of
various colors--black, white, red, yellow, and intermediate shades.
Occasionally there is a grove of quaking aspen, and a few sour-berry
bushes and some cedar. Our camp to-night was on Bear river; the bottom
is sandy, and mostly covered with wild sage.[54]
_July 31._ This day we traveled down Bear river fifteen miles. The
bottom is from two to four miles wide, and mostly covered with good
grass. The road excellent. We encamped two miles above Smith's fork. The
upper road from Green river comes in two miles back.
_August 1._ We traveled fifteen miles this day. Two miles brought us to
Smith's fork. This is a bold, clear, and beautiful stream, coming in
from the east. It is about fifteen yards wide, lined with timber and
undergrowth.[55] In this stream is an abundance of mountain trout, some
of them very large. The road leads down the bottom of Bear river three
miles to Spring branch, one mile to the Narrows and three miles to the
first crossing of Bear river.[56] Here are two trails. The nearest turns
to the right up a creek for a mile and a half, crosses the creek and
passes over the hill, and strikes the other trail at the foot of Big
Hill, six miles from the crossings. The other trail crosses the river,
follows up its bottom round the bend for eight miles, to where it
crosses the river, then follows down the bottom three miles, and takes
up a valley for one mile to the foot of the Big Hill, where it
intersects the other trail. This is the most level road, but the other
is not a bad one. {37} The hills bordering on Bear river on this day's
travel are very high and rugged; they are covered with grass. The
bottoms are from one to four miles wide. We saw this day large herds of
antelope. We encamped in the bend of the river, near the second
crossings.
_August 2._ This day we traveled about nineteen miles. Four or five
miles brought us to the big hill or mountain. It is about half a mile to
the top of the first ridge, and quite steep. The road then turns a few
rods to the right, then to the left down a ravine for three hundred
yards, and then up a ravine for half a mile to the top of the mountain.
We traveled about two miles along the ridge, and then turned to the left
down the mountain. It is about one mile to the plain, and generally very
steep and stony; but all reached the plain safely, and were truly
thankful that they had safely passed one of the most difficult mountains
on the road. From the top of this mountain we had a most delightful view
of the surrounding country. This is one of the ranges which border this
stream. At this place they close in upon both sides so as not to admit
of a passage with teams along the river. A road could easily be cut
around the point, and save the fatigue of climbing this mountain; the
distance would not be materially increased. The valley of Bear river
bears off to the northwest, and can be seen a great distance. From the
south comes in a broad valley, up which can be seen Bear Lake. A high
range of mountains separates it from the river. The outlet of this lake
is two or three miles below the narrows made by this mountain.[57] A
high range of snow covered mountains can be seen to the southwest. The
road strikes the river two miles from the foot of the mountain, at Big
Timber. Here is a good camp. Eight miles brought us to a spring branch.
The bottom here is wide; a low marsh prevents driving to the river. The
grass is good. There is a little timber on the mountains. At Big Timber
is a company of trappers and traders attached to Bridger's party.
_August 3._ We traveled about fourteen miles, crossing a number of
spring branches, coming in from the mountains. These branches abound in
trout. The ground, for a strip of about four miles, was covered with
black crickets of a large size. I saw some that were about three inches
in length, and measuring about three-fourths of an inch in diameter; but
the common size were two inches in length and one-half or five-eighths
of an inch in diameter; their legs were large in proportion {38} to the
size of their bodies. Some were singing on stalks of wild sage; others
crawling in every direction. Our teams made great havoc among them; so
numerous were they that we crushed them at every step. As soon as one
was killed, others of them would alight upon it and devour it. The
bottoms are wide, and covered with grass, and the soil looks well. A few
patches of snow were seen upon the mountain some ten miles distant. A
portion of the mountain is covered with fine timber. The bottoms are
rolling.
_August 4._ We reached the Soda springs, having traveled about eight
miles.[58] The first view we had was of two or three white hillocks or
mounds, standing up at different points to the right of the road, and
near a grove of cedar and pine timber. One of them is about ten rods
long at the base, and three or four rods in width; its elevation is
probably twenty-five or thirty feet from the plain in which it is
situated. The size of these mounds continually increases, as the water
oozes out at different points, and produces a crust which becomes quite
hard. The rocks, for miles around, are of the soda formation. Upon these
mounds the water is warm. In a small bottom, immediately before
reaching the first of these mounds, and about two hundred yards above
the road, is a hole about eight feet in diameter; in this is a pool of
water, strongly impregnated with soda. I had no means of ascertaining
the depth, but believe it to be considerable; at one edge of it the
water was boiling and sparkling; it would sometimes swell four inches
above the surface. This pool, and others contiguous, affords excellent
drinking water; it was cool, and, when sweetened, would compare
favourably with any soda water. Just below the mound, and near the
grove, is a rapid stream of water, coursing over a rocky bottom, formed
by soda. At the crossing of this creek, and below the road, is a morass;
and immediately on the bank of the rivulet, is a crevice in the rock,
from which a small stream of water issues; this was the best to drink of
any I found. After crossing the creek, the distance to the springs
generally resorted to is about three-fourths of a mile; they boil up in
every direction. Several mounds have been formed, of ten feet in height.
The water has found some other passage, and left them to moulder away.
The centre or middle of these are concave. The surface of the earth here
is some twelve or fifteen feet above the level of the river, the bank of
which is of rock, of the soda formation. A grove of cedar and pine
timber extends from the river back to {39} the mountain, a distance of
two and a half or three miles; the space between the road and the river
is covered with grass; but between it and the mountain it is barren of
vegetation of any kind. The soda has left a sediment, which is now
crumbled and loose, with an occasional mound of ten or twelve feet
elevation, but no water running. The river here is about one hundred
yards in width, and about eighteen inches in depth, running very
rapidly. The soda water is bubbling up in every direction, and sometimes
rises six inches above the surface of the river. This bubbling extends
for near half a mile. A stream comes in from the north at the western
edge of the springs, tumbles over the rocks, and finally into the river.
Near where one branch of this falls over the rock (it has several
passages where the road crosses it) is a circular basin in the rock,
being two feet in diameter at the top, but larger below. It was covered
with grass; and, in walking along, I barely avoided stepping into it;
whilst at its edge the purling or gurgling of the water, as it boils up,
apprized me of its vicinity. The surface of the water is about three
feet below the top of the rock. The water is cool, much more so than the
water of the springs, and is remarkably clear.
Three hundred yards below the crossing of this branch, and immediately
on the bank of the river, is the Steamboat Spring.[59] The water has
formed a small cone of about two and a half feet in height, and three
feet in diameter, at the base. A hole of six inches in diameter at the
top, allows the water to discharge itself. It swells out at intervals of
eight or ten seconds, and sometimes flows four or five feet in
disjointed fragments. It is lukewarm, and has a milky appearance; but
when taken in a vessel becomes as transparent as crystal. It produces a
sound similar to the puffing of a steamboat, but not quite so deep. It
can frequently be heard at the distance of a quarter of a mile. About
six feet from this is a small fissure in the rock, which is called the
escape-pipe or gas-pipe. It makes a hissing noise, corresponding with
the belching of the spring. The gas emitted from this fissure is so
strong that it would suffocate a person, holding his head near the
ground. To the rear of this, across the road, are mounds fifty or sixty
feet in height; these were entirely dry. Up this creek is very good
grazing for cattle, but there are found some marshy places contiguous.
The bottom upon the opposite side of the river is four or five miles in
width, and covered with a good coat of grass. The soil looks good; and
if the seasons are not too {40} short, would produce well. The mountain
upon the south side is covered with heavy pine timber; on the north side
but little timber was observed; what little was noticed consisted
principally of scrubby cedars. Antelope found in abundance. The water,
in many of the springs, is sufficiently strong to raise bread, equally
as well as saleratus or yeast. Were it not for their remote situation,
these springs would be much resorted to, especially during the summer
months. The country is mountainous, and its altitude so great, that the
air is always cool, and consequently must be healthy.
Companies wishing to remain for a length of time at the springs, would
pursue a proper course in driving their cattle over the river, as good
grazing can thereby be had.
_August 5._ We traveled about nineteen miles. Five miles brought us to
where the road leaves the river, and bears northward through a valley.
The river bears to the southward and empties its waters into Big Salt
Lake.[60] The range of mountains bounding the north side of the river
here comes to within a half mile of it, then bears off to the north,
leaving a valley of about seven or eight miles in width between it and a
range coming from Lewis river, and extending south towards Salt Lake.
The range bounding the south side of the river comes abruptly to the
stream at this point, presenting huge and cumbrous masses of basaltic
rock, but it is generally covered with heavy timber. At this point two
trails are found: one striking west, across the valley, to the opposite
side; the other, which is the nearest and best, follows around the
point, hugging the base of the mountain for several miles. Two and one
half miles distant, and immediately beneath a cliff of rocks by the road
side, is to be found a soda pool. A little spring of cool soda water
runs out at the base of the rock, and a basin of eight or ten yards in
extent, and about two and one half feet high has been formed. Inside of
this, is a pool of water;--the material composing the bank around, is of
a white color. In a few miles travel, we crossed several spring
branches. We then directed our course through the plain for some eight
or nine miles, to where we encamped. Our camp was located near a spring
branch; but a small quantity of wood was found; grazing was excellent.
From where the road leaves the river, the country presents every
appearance of having been volcanic at some period. Craters are yet
standing in the plain, exhibiting positive evidence of this fact. A
large mound has been formed by the lava ejected from this crater. In
the centre is {41} a deep cavity; now partially filled, from the falling
in of the masses of bank surrounding it. In every direction the eye
rests upon fragments of rock, which have been thrown out in a hot and
burning condition, many of them melted and united; pieces resembling
broken junk bottles or black glass lay scattered over the plain. The
valley for ten or twelve miles is covered with stone of this
description. In many places the rocks have been lifted or bulged up to
an elevation of ten or fifteen feet, the top has been burst asunder,
presenting a cavity of eight or ten feet in width, caused by the
fragments having been cast out; the depth of the cavity is from twenty
to thirty feet, the sides have a black appearance, and exhibit
indications of having been burned; at other places the rock had been
lifted up, and elevated above the surface of the earth some five or six
feet, and about the same in width, having numerous small apertures in
it, the centre being concave. The stone forms a complete arch. At other
places the rock has been rent, and a chasm of thirty or forty feet in
depth and from two to ten feet in width, has been the result. These
chasms are about one quarter of a mile in length. The fragments lay in
every direction.
The country over this plain is rather barren; but at certain seasons of
the year, is covered with grass, which during the summer months dies,
leaving but little appearance of vegetation. After we had halted for the
night, three families who had separated from our company at the Soda
Springs, passed us. A few hours had elapsed, and we espied one of their
number returning post haste to our camp. When he arrived, he was so
paralysed with fear, that it was with difficulty we obtained from him
the cause of his alarm. It appeared evident, from his statement, that a
party of Snake Indians meditated an attack upon their party. We
dispatched a company to their relief, but soon had the gratification to
witness the return of their wagons to our camp. It appears that one of
their number had marched about two miles in advance of the wagons, when
he was discovered by a party of Snake Indians, lurking in the vicinity,
who immediately gave him chase, at every step uttering the most terrific
yells, and endeavoured to surround him; but as he was astride a fleet
American courser, he succeeded in outstripping them, and arrived at the
wagons in time to prepare for their approach. The wagons were then in a
deep ravine, and could not be seen, by the Indians in pursuit, until
within seventy-five yards. As soon as the Indians discovered {42} their
proximity to the wagons they commenced a precipitate retreat, and the
emigrants rejoined our party.
_August 6._ We traveled this day about fifteen miles. The road for seven
miles is up the valley; it then takes over the mountain, to the waters
running into Snake or Lewis river. The high range of mountains which
bears off towards _Salt Lake_, terminates near the road on the left. The
road follows a ravine, and winds about among the hills, and thickets of
quaking aspen, until it reaches a spring branch, down which it follows,
to near Fort Hall. Over the ridge, and for two miles down the branch,
there is but little grass found. At the distance of three miles, on our
left up the mountain, were several patches of snow. A few of our party
brought some of the snow to our camp.
_August 7._ This day we made about eighteen miles. For ten miles the
road is very good. Along the stream is found willow brush, answering for
fuel. The last seven miles is over a sandy plain; it was dry, and very
heavy traveling. Our camp was at a large spring of cold water; grazing
was very good.
_August 8._ We traveled but five miles, which brought us to Fort
Hall.[61] This is a trading post in the possession of the _Hudson's Bay
Company_. Like the forts on the east side of the mountains, it is built
of mud or adobes. (This term applies to sun-burnt brick.) They are of a
similar construction. At each corner is a bastion, projecting out some
eight or ten feet, perforated with holes for fire-arms. Captain Grant is
now the officer in command; he has the bearing of a gentleman.[62] The
garrison was supplied with flour, which had been procured from the
settlements in Oregon, and brought here on pack horses. They sold it to
the emigrants for twenty dollars per cwt., taking cattle in exchange;
and as many of the emigrants were nearly out of flour, and had a few
lame cattle, a brisk trade was carried on between them and the
inhabitants of the fort. In the exchange of cattle for flour, an
allowance was made of from five to twelve dollars per head. They also
had horses which they readily exchanged for cattle or sold for cash. The
price demanded for horses was from fifteen to twenty-five dollars. They
could not be prevailed upon to receive anything in exchange for their
goods or provisions, excepting cattle or money.
The bottoms here are wide, and covered with grass. There is an
abundance of wood for fuel, fencing, and other purposes. {43} No attempt
has, as yet, been made to cultivate the soil. I think the drought too
great; but if irrigation were resorted to, I doubt not it would produce
some kinds of grain, such as wheat, corn, potatoes, &c.
Our camp was located one mile to the southwest of the fort; and as at
all the other forts, the Indians swarmed about us. They are of the Snake
tribe, and inhabit the country bordering on Lewis and Bear rivers, and
their various tributaries. This tribe is said to be numerous; but in
consequence of the continual wars which they have engaged in with the
Sioux, Crows and Blackfeet, their numbers are rapidly diminishing.
Snake river, which flows within one half mile of the fort, is a clear
and beautiful stream of water.[63] It courses over a pebbly bottom. Its
width is about one hundred and fifty yards. It abounds in fish of
different varieties, which are readily taken with the hook.
While we remained in this place, great efforts were made to induce the
emigrants to pursue the route to California. The most extravagant tales
were related respecting the dangers that awaited a trip to Oregon, and
of the difficulties and trials to be surmounted. The perils of the way
were so magnified as to make us suppose the journey to Oregon almost
impossible. For instance, the two crossings of _Snake_ river, and the
crossing of the Columbia, and other smaller streams, were represented as
being attended with great danger; also that no company heretofore
attempting the passage of these streams, succeeded, but with the loss of
men, from the violence and rapidity of the current; as also that they
had never succeeded in getting more than fifteen or twenty head of
cattle into the Willamette valley. In addition to the above, it was
asserted that three or four tribes of Indians, in the middle region, had
combined for the purpose of preventing our passage through their
country, and should we attempt it, we would be compelled to contend with
these hostile tribes. In case we escaped destruction at the hands of the
savages, a more fearful enemy, that of famine, would attend our march;
as the distance was so great that winter would overtake us before making
the passage of the Cascade Mountains.
On the other hand, as an inducement to pursue the California route, we
were informed of the shortness of the route, when compared with that to
Oregon; as also of many other superior advantages it possessed.
{44} These tales, told and rehearsed, were likely to produce the effect
of turning the tide of emigration thither. Mr. Greenwood, an old
mountaineer, well stocked with falsehoods, had been dispatched from
California to pilot the emigrants through;[64] and assisted by a young
man by the name of McDougal, from Indiana, so far succeeded as to induce
thirty-five or thirty-six wagons to take that trail.[65]
About fifteen wagons had been fitted out, expressly for California; and,
joined by the thirty-five afore-mentioned, completed a train of fifty
wagons; what the result of their expedition has been, I have not been
able to learn.[66]
_August 9._ This day we traveled about eight miles; five miles brought
us to the crossing of Portneth. This is a stream heading in the
mountains near the Soda Springs, receiving numerous branches in this
bottom, and is here about eighty yards in width.[67] From this place, it
is one mile to the crossing of a narrow slough, with steep banks. We
crossed, and journeyed two miles to the bank of Snake river, where we
encamped. Eight wagons joined us at our encampment.
_August 10._ We remained in camp.
_August 11._ This day we traveled about eight miles; which brought us to
within one mile of the American falls.[68] Our camp was at the springs.
An island in the river afforded excellent grazing for cattle. The
country is extremely barren, being sandy sage plains.[69]
_August 12._ We traveled about fifteen miles, which brought us to Levy
creek, or Beaver-dam creek, as it is sometimes termed; it is a small
stream; its waters flow down a succession of falls, producing a handsome
cascade: it has the appearance of having been built up by beaver. The
property of the water has turned the material into stone; the water
appears to be impregnated with soda; the rocks along the bank are of
that formation.[70] The best camp is two miles farther on.
_August 13._ This day we traveled about eight miles, to Cassia creek;
here the California trail turns off. The road {45} has been very dusty
and heavy traveling. The country presents the same usual barren
appearance.[71]
_August 14._ This day we traveled about fifteen miles, and reached
marshy springs; the road has been stony and dusty; the country mostly
destitute of vegetation--nothing growing but the wild sage and
wormwood.[72]
_August 15._ We traveled but eleven miles. The road runs over a sage
plain for eight miles, when it crosses the stream from the marsh; no
water running, and but little standing in pools. At the distance of
three miles the road strikes the river bottom, at the lower end of this,
at which place the road leaves it; here was found a good camp.
_August 16._ We traveled about twenty-three miles. Four miles brought us
to Goose creek. We found difficulty in crossing, and no good location
for a camp.[73] After seven miles travel we reached the river; but
little grass. Twelve miles brought us to Dry Branch; here also was
unsuitable ground for encamping, as the water was standing in pools. The
road we traveled was very dusty, and portions of it quite stony; here
the river runs through a rocky _kanyon_. The cliffs are sometimes of the
height of one thousand feet, and nearly perpendicular.[74] Above the
_kanyon_, the river is two or three hundred yards wide; but at this
place it is not more than one hundred and fifty feet; and at one place,
where there is a fall of some twenty feet, its width does not exceed
seventy-five feet. In our march this day I attempted to get down to the
river, to procure a drink of water, but for six miles was unable to do
so, owing to the steep precipitous banks.
_August 17._ We traveled but eight miles. The road lay over a sage
plain to the bottom on Rock creek.[75] Here we found a very good camp.
_August 18._ This day we traveled about twenty miles. After the distance
of eight miles we arrived at the crossing of Rock creek, (in a
_kanyon_,) here we halted for dinner, and gave our cattle water. We then
took up the bluff, and traveled over sand and sage plains for about
twelve miles. When night overtook us we drove to the top of the river
bluff and encamped. We drove our cattle one and a half miles down the
bluff to the river for water. Here we found a little grass and green
brush, but it was not sufficient in quantity to supply our cattle, and
we could do no better. We packed water up the bluff to our camp. The
bluffs at this place exceed one thousand feet in height; they are of
basalt. The road is on a high barren {46} plain; a range of mountains is
on our left hard by, and at a great distance on our right another range
appears.
_August 19._ We traveled about twelve miles. Nine miles brought us to
where we pass down to the river bottom; from this point the distance to
the river was three miles. A warm spring branch empties itself into the
river at this place. Emigrants would pursue a more proper course by
encamping on the bottom, near the source of Rock creek, then drive down
to where the road crosses in a _kanyon_, then following the road for
eight or nine miles to where the road leaves the bluff of the creek and
encamp, driving their cattle into the creek bottom. From this place they
can drive to Salmon Fall creek, just four miles below our present
encampment, follow down this creek to its mouth, where will be found an
excellent camp.
_August 20._ We traveled about nine miles, reaching the Salmon
Falls.[76] Here are eighteen or twenty Indian huts. Salmon come up to
these falls: the Indians have an abundance of them, which they very
readily dispose of for hooks, powder, balls, clothing, calico and
knives, and in fact for almost anything we have at our disposal.
The river at this place is a succession of cataracts for several miles,
the highest of which does not exceed twelve feet. The grazing was very
poor, and the country barren as usual.
_August 21._ We traveled about twelve miles; for two miles the road is
up a sandy hill, it then strikes a sandy sage plain, over which it takes
its course for ten miles. Here night overtook us, as we had commenced
our march at a very late hour on account of having lost some horses. Our
camp was on the top of the river bluff. It is one mile to water; but
little grass was found. This day we found several head of cattle that
had given out from fatigue of traveling. Some of the companies had been
racing, endeavoring to pass each other, and now they have reached a
region where but little grass is found--are beginning to reap the reward
of their folly.
_August 22._ Our cattle were so much scattered that it was late in the
day when we prepared to resume our march. We traveled about ten miles.
At night we left the road, and directed our course to the right, down a
ravine to the river, where we encamped. Our cattle suffered much for
want of food.
_August 23._ This morning we turned up the ravine for one and a half
miles, and then struck up the hill to the road. Three and a half miles
brought us to where the road crosses {47} the Snake river. In coming
down to the river bottom, there is a very steep hill. Along the shore of
this river was a little grass; there are two islands covered with
grass, so that our cattle were soon repaid for their privations
heretofore. The difficulties attending the crossing of this stream had
been represented as being almost insurmountable; but upon examination we
found it an exaggeration. From the main shore to first island there is
no difficulty; from first to second island, turn well up, until nearly
across, then bear down to where the road enters it. The water is not
deep until nearly across, and not then if you keep well up stream. From
second island to main shore is more difficult; it is about three hundred
yards wide and the current very rapid. Strike in, heading well up for
two rods, then quartering a little down until eight or ten rods from
shore: then quartering a little up for fifteen or twenty rods; then
strike up for the coming out place; the bottom is gravelly. With the
exception of a few holes, the water for the first fifteen rods is the
deepest part of the ford. The bottom is very uneven; there are holes
found of six or eight feet in width, many of them swimming. Those
crossing this stream can escape the deepest of these holes by having
horsemen in the van and at each side; it is necessary that there be
attached to each wagon four or six yoke of oxen, the current being
swift; and in the passage of these holes, previously alluded to, when
one yoke is compelled to swim, the others may be in shallow water. Great
care must be taken that these teams be not beat down too low and pass
over the ripple; and to prevent such a casualty, two drivers must attend
each wagon. Before attempting the passage of the river all articles
liable to damage, from coming in contact with the water, should be piled
on the top of the wagon bed. We commenced crossing at eleven o'clock,
A. M., and at one o'clock, P. M., we effected the passage of the stream,
and were so fortunate as to land our goods free from all damage. We
traveled two miles to a spring branch and pitched our encampment. Good
grass, wood and water, were procured in plenty.[77]
_August 24._ We traveled but six miles. Soon after leaving camp we
directed our course up a stony hill; thence over a sage plain to a
spring branch.[78] We pursued our way up this branch for one mile, where
we obtained good grazing for our cattle; a high range of hills appearing
on our right, at the distance of two miles, an occasional grove of pine
timber upon them; but, in general, the mountains here are covered with
{48} grass; numerous streams issuing from their sides, and pouring their
waters in the plain below. There is no appearance of vegetation until
you reach the low bottoms immediately along the water's edge. The road
traveled to-day was quite stony.
The Indians along this road are expert in theft and roguery. A young man
having a horse which he had taken much pains to get along, when night
approached, staked and hobbled him, that he might not stray off; but at
night an Indian stole into the camp, unhobbled the horse, cut the rope,
and took him off, leaving the young man undisturbed in his sleep. A few
days thereafter, this Indian effected a sale of the horse to one of a
party of emigrants traveling behind us.
_August 25._ We remained in camp.
_August 26._ We traveled about ten miles; our camp was located on a
small rivulet, at a quarter of a mile's distance above the road, and
near the mouth of the _Hot_ Spring branch. Between the road and the
mountain good grazing was found. The river is about eight miles on our
left; the space between is a barren, sandy sage plain.
_August 27._ We traveled about sixteen miles; one mile brought us to the
Hot Springs, near which the road passes.[79] These springs are in a
constant state of ebullition. They number from five to six, extending
over a surface of two to three yards, all uniting and forming a stream
of one yard in width and about three inches deep, running quite rapid.
The water is sufficiently hot for culinary purposes. About fifteen rods
off, approaching the mountain, which is half a mile distant, are similar
springs, the waters of which flow into a reservoir a short distance
below. An ox, belonging to our party, appeared desirous to test the
qualities of the water afforded by these springs. His owners, seeing his
inclination, attempted to arrest his steps, but failed; when he arrived
at the brink of one of them, and stuck his nose in, preparatory to
indulging in a draught of the delicious nectar, he immediately wheeled,
and made the welkin ring by his bellowing; kicking and running, he
showed he was evidently displeased with himself. Our camp was on Barrel
creek bottom, which is very narrow.
_August 28._ We traveled about eighteen miles, crossing several running
branches. The road is near the base of the mountain; wild sage and
grease wood found in plenty. Encamped on Charlotte's fork, a small
branch.
_August 29._ We traveled about eighteen miles, which brought us to Bois
river, a stream of forty or fifty yards in {49} width, and abounding in
salmon; its banks are lined with Balm of Gilead timber.[80] The bottoms
here are two or three miles wide, and covered with grass.
_August 30._ We traveled about eleven miles. The road is sometimes on
bottom, at others, on bluff. The Indians are very numerous along this
stream; they have a large number of horses; clothing is in much demand;
for articles of clothing costing in the States ten or twelve dollars, a
very good horse can be obtained.
_August 31._ We traveled about 14 miles. The road pursues its course
down the valley of the Bois river.
_September 1._ We traveled about thirteen miles. Two miles from camp we
crossed Bois river. Some of the bottoms are covered with grass, others
with wild sage and grease wood. The road was very dusty. There is not
much timber along the stream, but great quantities of brush.
_September 2._ We reached Fort Bois. This is a trading post of the
Hudson's Bay Company, established upon the northern side of Snake or
Lewis river, and one mile below the mouth of Bois river. This fort was
erected for the purpose of recruiting, or as an intermediate post, more
than as a trading point. It is built of the same materials, and modeled
after Fort Hall, but is of a smaller compass. Portions of the bottoms
around it afford grazing; but, in a general view, the surrounding
country is barren.[81]
North of this fort is an extensive plain, which has an extremely
unfertile appearance; but, I am informed, that during the winter and
spring months it affords good grazing. At this fort they have a quantity
of flour in store, brought from OREGON CITY, for which they demanded
twenty dollars per cwt., in cash; a few of our company being in extreme
want, were obliged to purchase at this exorbitant price. At this place
the road crosses the river; the ford is about four hundred yards below
the fort, and strikes across to the head of an island, then bears to the
left to the southern bank; the water is quite deep, but not rapid; it
swam some of our smallest work cattle; the bottom is solid and smooth.
We cut poles, and laid them across the top of our wagon-beds, piling our
loading on them; answering a twofold purpose--preventing our loading
from damage, as also by its weight keeping the wagons steady and
guarding them against floating. In about three hours we effected our
passage in safety, but few of the goods getting wet. We went up the
bottom a half mile, and there encamped; {50} driving our cattle on an
island hard by, to graze. Fort Bois is about two hundred and eighty
miles below Fort Hall, following the wagon road; but by crossing the
river at Fort Hall, and going down on the north side, the distance would
be lessened, as the river bears off south, and then north; and judging
from the appearance of the country, I think a road may be found, equal,
if not better than the one on the south side; and, I doubt not, the
grazing will be found better.[82]
_September 3._ We traveled fifteen miles, to Malheur, or Malore, as it
is sometimes called: here is a good camp. This is a stream of about ten
yards in width, having its source in a range of mountains to the
southwest, and pursuing its meanderings through a succession of hills,
sage and sand plains, and occasionally a fertile bottom, until it
arrives at Snake river, into which it empties. A few miles below Fort
Bois, its course from its source is north of east. Along its banks, near
to where the road crosses it, are a number of hot springs; they are of
the same temperature of those between the two crossings of Snake
river.[83] Here we met Dr. White, a sub-Indian agent, accompanied by
three others, on their way from OREGON to the STATES.[84]
At this place are two trails; the fork is in the bottom above the
crossing of the creek, and there is a possibility of emigrants pursuing
the wrong route. I do not deem it amiss to give some particulars in
relation to this road. Mr. Meek, who had been engaged as our pilot, but
had previously gone in advance of the companies who had employed him,
and who had after reaching Fort Hall, fitted up a party to pilot through
to Oregon, informed the emigrants that he could, by taking up this
stream to near its source, and then striking across the plains, so as to
intersect the old road near to the mouth of Deshutes or Falls river,
save about one hundred and fifty miles travel; also that he was
perfectly familiar with the country through which the proposed route
lay, as he had traveled it; that no difficulty or danger attended its
travel. He succeeded in inducing about two hundred families to pursue
this route; they accordingly directed their course to the left, up this
creek, about ten days previous to our arrival at the forks.
_September 4._ We traveled about twenty miles; ten miles brought us to a
sulphur spring, and ten miles more to Birch creek, where we
encamped.[85] The country is considerably rolling, and much of it
barren: no timber found.
_September 5._ We traveled about eight miles; three miles {51} brought
us to Snake river, and five more to Burnt river. The road is hilly but
good; the country mountainous. Here is a good camp.
_September 6._ We made about twelve miles. The road is up Burnt river,
and the most difficult road we have encountered since we started. The
difficulties arise from the frequent crossings of the creek, which is
crooked, narrow and stony. We were often compelled to follow the road,
in its windings for some distance, over high, sidelong and stony ridges,
and frequently through thickets of brush. The stream is about ten or
twelve yards in width, and is generally rapid. The hills are high, and
covered with grass.[86]
_September 7._ This day we traveled about twelve miles. The road
exceeded in roughness that of yesterday. Sometimes it pursued its course
along the bottom of the creek, at other times it wound its way along the
sides of the mountains, so sidelong as to require the weight of two or
more men on the upper side of the wagons to preserve their equilibrium.
The creek and road are so enclosed by the high mountains, as to afford
but little room to pass along, rendering it in some places almost
impassable. Many of the mountains viewed from here seem almost
perpendicular, and of course present a barren surface. The eye is
occasionally relieved by a few scrubby cedars; but along the creek is
found birch, bitter cottonwood, alder, &c., in quantity, and several
kinds of brush and briars, so impenetrable as to preclude ingress. The
road pursues its course through these thickets, the axe having been
employed; but it is so very narrow as almost to prevent travel.
A little digging, and the use of the axe, united with the erection of
bridges, would make this a very good road. At first view this road
appeared to us impassable, and so difficult of travel, as almost to
deter us from the attempt; but knowing that those who had preceded us
had surmounted the difficulties, encouraged us to persevere. It required
much carefulness, and the exercise of skill on the part of our drivers
to pass along and avoid the dangers of the way. We pursued our route
without any loss, with the exception of that attending the breakage of
two wagon tongues, done in crossing some deep ravines. We also
experienced difficulty in finding our cattle, which had strayed away.
Five miles from camp the road turns up a spring branch to the right,
which we followed two miles, crossing it very frequently; it then turns
up the mountain of the left, until it strikes another ravine. We
followed {52} up this for one mile, where water makes its appearance.
Here is found a good camp. The road then takes to the left up the hill,
and then down to a dry branch: here is a good camp, one mile to running
water. This portion of the road is solid and of good travel.
_September 8._ This day we traveled about fourteen miles. Two miles
brought us to the creek again; the bottom here is of some extent. We
followed this bottom for the distance of one mile; the road then led up
the right hand branch, crossing several small branches, taking up a
ravine to the left over a ridge, until it reaches the fork of the river;
pursues its route up this river some six or seven miles, crossing it
twice, then directs its course to the right, through a narrow ravine
over the mountain, then strikes Dry Branch; we followed up this branch
to running water, and near to a scrubby pine; here we encamped. The road
has been solid and good. The hills and valleys appear well covered with
grass.
_September 9._ This day we traveled about sixteen miles. The road runs
up the branch for one mile, then turns to the left over the hill,
pursuing a very winding course for some thirteen miles, until it reaches
a slough in Powder river bottoms. Powder river is a stream of some eight
or ten yards in width, having its source in the high range of mountains
on our left, which mountains in many places are covered with snow.[87]
An abundance of pine timber is found covering the sides of these
mountains, sometimes extending far down into the bottoms, which here are
between six and seven miles in width. The soil is fertile and would
undoubtedly yield abundantly.
To our right, at the distance of fifteen or twenty miles, is presented a
high range of mountains, their base covered with grass, their sides with
heavy pine timber. At their summit they are entirely destitute of
vegetation: some of these are very lofty, their peaks present a very
lustrous appearance, resembling the snow mountains. This shining,
dazzling appearance they possess, is derived I think from the material
of which they are composed, being a kind of white clay.
The valley between Powder river and this range is very rolling, portions
of it covered with wild sage. Wild fowl abound in this valley.
_September 10._ This day we traveled about ten miles; our course was
down the valley of Powder river; eight miles brought us to the crossing
of the same, one mile to the middle {53} fork, and one to the third
fork. There is good ground for encampments at any point along these
streams.
At our camp we were visited by an Indian chief of the tribe Caäguas,[88]
accompanied by his son. He was of a friendly disposition; his object in
visiting us was principally to barter for cattle; he had in his
possession thirty or more horses.
_September 11._ This day we traveled about twelve miles; for the first
five or six miles, the road was quite level and good, it then follows a
ridge dividing Powder river and Grand Round; this portion of the road is
very uneven and stony. The road leading down into the valley of Grand
Round, is circuitous, and its difficulty of travel enhanced by its
roughness; it is about one and a half miles in length, to where it
reaches the bottom. Grand Round is a valley, whose average width does
not exceed twenty miles, and is about thirty miles in length; a stream
of water of some twenty yards in width passes through this valley,
receiving considerable addition to its volume from the many rivulets
that pour down their waters from the mountains, by which this valley is
enclosed. The bottoms are of rich friable earth, and afford grass of
various kinds, among others that of red clover. There is a root here
found in great abundance, and known as the _camas_, which is held in
high repute by the Indians for some medicinal qualities it is thought to
possess; wild flax and a variety of other plants grow in luxuriance,
like to those I have observed in the western prairies.[89] The streams
are generally lined with timber, and abound in salmon and other
varieties of fish. Upon the sides of the mountains and extending down
into the valley are found beautiful groves of yellow pine timber. These
mountains are places of resort for bear, deer, and elk.
This bottom affords an excellent situation for a settlement, possessing
more advantages in that respect, than any found since our departure from
the lower Platte river. North of this and at the distance of about
twenty miles, is another valley, similar in appearance to this, but of
greater extent.[90] The streams having their course through this valley
empty into Lewis river, which is eighty or ninety miles to the north.
Our camp was at the foot of the hill, convenient to a spring branch. At
twilight we were visited by four or five of the Caäguas, the tribe
alluded to previously.
An incident quite worthy of note, occurred at this place. The {54}
chief (Aliquot by name)[91] who had joined us at our other encampment,
and had pursued this day's journey in company, had pitched his tent some
three hundred yards to the rear of our camp. In the evening, in
strolling about the camp, I came near his tent, and entered with the
intention of employing his squaw in the soling of my moccasins; while
she was engaged in this employment, a conversation had sprung up between
the old chief and myself, in which he took occasion to ask me if I were
a christian, as also whether there were many upon the road; to which
questions I of course answered in the affirmative, supposing that he
merely wished to know, whether I classed myself with the heathen or
christians. On my return to our camp, some one of our party proposed
that we should while away an hour or so, in a game at cards, which was
readily assented to. We had but engaged in our amusement, when the old
chief Aliquot made his appearance, holding a small stick in his hand; he
stood transfixed for a moment, and then advanced to me, raising his
hand, which held the stick in the act of chastising me, and gently
taking me by the arm, said "Captain--Captain--no good; no good." You may
guess my astonishment, at being thus lectured by a "wild and untutored
savage," twenty five hundred miles from a civilized land. I inwardly
resolved to abandon card playing forever.
_September 12._ This day we traveled about seven miles; the road runs
across the upper end of Grand round, to a small spring branch, when it
again ascends the mountains. At this spring branch we pitched our camp,
and while here, were visited by great numbers of Indians, including men,
squaws, and papooses. These Indians have decidedly a better appearance
than any I have met; tall and athletic in form, and of great symmetry of
person; they are generally well clad, and observe pride in personal
cleanliness. They brought wheat, corn, potatoes, peas, pumpkins, fish,
&c. which they were anxious to dispose of for cloths, calico, napkins
and other articles of wearing apparel; they also had dressed deer skins
and moccasins; they had good horses, which they offered in exchange for
cows and heifers; they would gladly exchange a horse for a cow,
esteeming the cow as of equal value. They remained with us throughout
the day, and when evening approached returned to their lodges along the
river two miles distant. I noticed a few of the Nez Percés (Pierced
Noses) tribe of Indians among them.[92] Both of these tribes are under
the influence and control of two Presbyterian missionaries, Dr. {55}
Whitman and Mr. Spalding, who have resided among them for the last ten
years; the former among the Caäguas, which inhabit the country bordering
on Wallawalla river and its tributaries, the Blue mountains and Grand
round: the latter among the Nez Percés who inhabit the country lying
along Lewis river, and its tributaries, from the eastern base of the
Blue mountains to the Columbia river.[93] These missionary
establishments are of a like character to those farther north. As I
shall have occasion to speak of these missionaries, as also the
beneficial results which have flowed from their residence among the
savages, I will return to my travels.
Some of our party becoming scant of provision, started for Dr.
Whitman's, the missionary establishment referred to above, intending to
rejoin us at Umatillo river, my old friend Aliquot generously proffered
his services as pilot for them, which were readily accepted.
_September 13._ This day we traveled about seven miles. From Grand Round
the road ascends the Blue mountains, and for two miles is quite steep
and precipitous; and to such an extent, as to require six yoke of oxen,
or more, to be attached to a wagon; from the summit of these mountains
is presented a rolling country for some four miles, alternately prairie
and groves of yellow pine timber. In the prairie the grass is quite dry,
but among the groves of timber it is green and flourishing. The road is
very stony; at the end of four miles it takes down the mountain to Grand
Round river, one mile in distance; it then crosses. Here is another
bottom covered with grass and bushes, where we pitched our encampment.
It is a remarkable circumstance that when individuals are engaged in
conversation, their voices can be heard distinctly at a quarter of a
mile distance; the discharge of a gun resembles that of a cannon, and is
echoed from hill to hill, the reverberations continuing for some length
of time.
_September 14._ This day we traveled about ten miles. The road ascended
the mountain for one and a half or two miles, then wound along the ridge
crossing many deep ravines, and pursuing its route over high craggy
rocks; sometimes directing its course over an open plain, at others
through thick groves of timber, winding among fallen trees and logs, by
which the road was encumbered. The scenery is grand and beautiful, and
cannot be surpassed; the country to a great distance is rough in the
extreme. It may strictly be termed a timber country, although many small
prairies are dotted over its surface. {56} The valleys are beautiful and
the soil presents a very rich appearance. We encamped in an opening, on
the south side of a range of mountains running to the north, and found
water in plenty in the bottom of the ravine, on our left, about one
fourth of a mile from the road. The timber growing in this region is
principally yellow pine, spruce, balsam fir, and hemlock; among the
bushes I noticed laurel.
_September 15._ This day we traveled about nine miles, over the main
ridge of the Blue Mountains. It is mostly a timbered country through
which we passed; the scenery is delightful, resembling in grandeur that
presented on yesterday's travel.[94] We had a fine view of the Cascade
Mountains to the west. Mount Hood, the loftiest of these, was plain to
the view. It was some one hundred and fifty miles distant, and being
covered with snow, appeared as a white cloud rising above those
surrounding it. To the north of Mount Hood, and north of the Columbia,
is seen Mount Saint Helen. We halted for the night at Lee's
encampment.[95]
_September 16._ We traveled about sixteen miles this day, which brought
us to Umatillo river. Here is an Indian town, the residence of the
principal chiefs of the Caäguas.[96] At this time they were mostly in
the mountains hunting. The road has been good; the first twelve miles
led us through a well timbered country, the last four miles over
prairie; the country has a dry appearance; the banks of the streams are
lined with cottonwood, balm of gilead, choke cherries and every variety
of bushes. The Indians have a few cultivated fields along this stream;
they raise wheat, corn, potatoes, peas and a variety of vegetables.
After the planting of crops, the labour of tending devolves upon the
squaws, or is done by slaves, of which they have a number, being
captives taken in their expeditions against other tribes. They brought
us the different products of their farms for traffic. As they expressed
great eagerness to obtain clothes, and we had a like desire to obtain
vegetables, a brisk traffic was continued until dark. On yesterday
morning when about ready to start, we discovered that eight or ten of
our work cattle were missing. Four of our number, myself included,
remained to hunt them up. In our search we rambled over the mountains
for several miles, and at night found them about three miles from camp;
we then followed the road and arrived at Lee's encampment just after
dark. This morning an ox, a mule and a horse were missing. Three of us
remained to hunt for them. We searched the prairies and {57} thickets
for miles around, but were unsuccessful. We then pursued the road to
Umatillo, which we reached at night.
_September 17._ At eight o'clock this morning, the men who had left us
at Grand Round for Dr. Whitman's station, rejoined us, accompanied by
the doctor and his lady.[97] They came in a two horse wagon, bringing
with them a plentiful supply of flour, meal and potatoes. After our
party had taken some refreshment, the march was resumed; our visitors
accompanying us to our camp four miles down the river. Our present
location affords but little grazing.
The doctor and lady remained with us during the day; he took occasion to
inform us of the many incidents that marked his ten years' sojourn in
this wilderness region, of a highly interesting character. Among other
things, he related that during his residence in this country, he had
been reduced to such necessity for want of food, as to be compelled to
slay his horse; stating that within that period, no less than thirty-two
horses had been served up at his table. It appears that the soil has
never been cultivated until within a few years back; but at this time,
so much attention is given to the culture of the soil, which yields
abundantly, that the privations of famine, or even scarcity, will
probably not again recur. The condition of the savages has been greatly
ameliorated and their improvement is chiefly attributable to the
missionary residents. They have a good stock of cattle, hogs, sheep,
&c., and raise an amount of grain not only sufficient to supply their
own wants, but affords a surplus. These tribes differ in their
appearance and customs from any we have met. They recognise the change
which has taken place, and are not ignorant that it has been effected by
the efforts and labor of the missionaries. On the other hand, they
acknowledge the benefits derived by yielding to their instructions. They
have embraced the Christian religion, and appear devout in their
espousal of Christian doctrines. The entire time of the missionaries is
devoted to the cause for which they have forsaken their friends and
kindred; they have left the comforts of home, and those places which
have been endeared by early associations, for the wild wilderness and
the habitation of the savage, prompted by those principles of charity
and benevolence which the Christian religion always inculcates. Their
privations and trials have been great, but they have borne them with
humility and meekness, and the fruits of their devotion are now
manifest; and if any class of people deserve well of their country, or
are entitled to the thanks of {58} a christian community, it is the
missionaries. Having no family of their own, they generously take
families of orphan children, raise and educate them in a manner that is
worthy of all commendation.[98]
_September 18._ This morning, after breakfast, our worthy guests left us
and we took up our line of march, traveling down the Umatillo valley for
some twelve miles, crossing the _stream_ twice. The road then takes up
the bluff to the right, over a high grassy plain. Our encampment was
pitched on the bluff on the left of the road. The water required at
camp, was packed about one and a half miles, being procured at the base
of the bluffs, up which we had to climb. The country is very rolling,
covered with dry grass; it is mostly prairie. From this point two snowy
peaks appear in view, as also the great valley of the Columbia; in truth
it may be said that our present location is in that valley, although it
is generally termed the middle region.
_September 19._ This day we traveled about ten miles. Eight miles
brought us to the river; we followed the banks of the river for two
miles, and encamped; good grazing is found. The stream as usual is lined
with timber, but with this exception, it is a rolling prairie as far as
can be seen, extending to the north and south, and bounded on the east
and west by the Blue and Cascade mountains. Whilst at this camp, we were
visited by the Wallawalla Indians; they reside along the lower part of
the Wallawalla, the low bottoms of the Umatillo and the Columbia, from
the mouth of Lewis river for one hundred miles south. They furnished us
with potatoes and venison. In their personal appearance they are much
inferior to the Caäguas, and want the cleanliness that characterizes
that tribe.[99]
_September 20._ This day we traveled about fifteen miles. For the first
eight miles the soil was remarkably rich in appearance, an admixture of
sand and loam, and covered with good grass; the stream is lined with
timber, in common with many of those that we have passed; the last seven
miles was sandy and heavy traveling. The Columbia river presents itself
on our right, at the distance of four miles. The river is in view for
miles along this road. The prickly pear is found in abundance. It was
our intention to have reached the Columbia before encamping, but from
the difficult traveling, were compelled to encamp on the sandy plain,
deprived of water, wood and grass.
{59} _September 21._ This morning at daylight we started for the
Columbia, distance three and a half miles. The river at this place is
from a half to three-fourths of a mile in width. It is a beautiful
stream; its waters are clear and course gently over a pebbly bottom.
Along the Columbia, is a strip of barren country of twelve miles in
width; a little dry grass in bunches, prickly pear and grease wood, dot
its surface. With this exception, its appearance was wild and solitary
to a great degree; but sterile as it is in appearance, the view is
relieved by the majesty of the river that flows by it. Immediately along
the bank of the Columbia is a narrow bottom, covered with green grass,
cucklebur, wild sunflower, pig weed, and several other kinds of weeds,
all of which were in full bloom. There was something inspiriting and
animating in beholding this. A feeling of pleasure would animate our
breasts akin to that filling the breast of the mariner, when after years
of absence, the shores of his native land appear to view. We could
scarce persuade ourselves but that our journey had arrived at its
termination. We were full of hope, and as it was understood that we had
but one more difficult part of the road to surmount, we moved forward
with redoubled energy; our horses and cattle were much jaded, but we
believed that they could be got through, or at least the greater part of
them.
The Indians were constantly paying us visits, furnishing us with
vegetables, which, by the by, were quite welcome; but they would in
return demand wearing apparel, until by traffic, we were left with but
one suit. We were compelled to keep a sharp look out over our kitchen
furniture, as during these visits it was liable to diminish in quantity
by forming an attachment towards these children of the forest, and
following them off. Many of these savages were nearly naked; they differ
greatly from the Caäguas, being much inferior; they are a greasy,
filthy, dirty set of miscreants as ever might be met.
_September 22._ This day we remained in camp, engaged in traffic with
the Indians. Some of our party were in want of horses, and took this
occasion to supply themselves.
_September 23._ This day we traveled about twenty miles. The first eight
miles the road is heavy traveling; the remaining portion however is much
better, with the exception of the last five miles, which proved to be
quite rocky. There is an occasional green spot to be found, but the
whole distance we have traveled since we first struck the river cannot
be regarded {60} as more than a barren sandy plain. In our route this
day we passed several Indian villages; they are but temporary
establishments, as their migratory disposition will not justify more
permanent structures.
_September 24._ This day we traveled but sixteen miles. After a march of
seven miles, we arrived at a small creek, a good situation for
encamping; nine miles more brought us to Dry Branch, from whence we
proceeded down the bluff to the river; a great portion of the road
traveled was sandy and heavy.[100]
_September 25._ This day we traveled about fourteen miles. The road was
quite hilly; sometimes it followed the bank of the river, at others
pursued its course along the high bluff. The river is confined to a very
narrow channel; country very barren, and the bluffs of great height.
_September 26._ This day we traveled about three miles. The road ascends
the bluff; is very difficult in ascent from its steepness, requiring
twice the force to impel the wagons usually employed; after effecting
the ascent, the sinuosity of the road led us among the rocks to the
bluff on John Day's river; here we had another obstacle to surmount,
that of going down a hill very precipitous in its descent, but we
accomplished it without loss or injury to our teams. This stream comes
tumbling through kanyons and rolling over rocks at a violent rate. It is
very difficult to cross, on account of the stone forming the bed of the
creek; its width, however, does not exceed ten yards. The grazing is
indifferent, the grass being completely dried.[101]
_September 27._ This morning we discovered that several of our trail
ropes had been stolen. Our horses could not be found until very late;
notwithstanding the delay thus occasioned we traveled some twenty miles.
The road for the first three miles is up hill; it then pursues its
course over a grassy, rolling plain for fifteen or sixteen miles, when
it again descends the bluff to the bank of the Columbia, which we
followed down for one mile and there encamped. The bluffs are very high
and rocky. We suffered great inconvenience from the want of fuel, as
there is none to be found along the Columbia; we collected a few dry
sticks of driftwood and weeds, which enabled us to partially cook our
food. The road we traveled this day was very good.
_September 28._ This day we traveled about twelve miles. Two miles
brought us to the crossing of De Shutes or Falls {61} river; a stream
having its source in a marshy plain bordering on the Great Basin, and
receives numerous tributaries heading in the Cascade mountains, the
eastern base of which it follows and pours its waters into the Columbia.
The mouth of De Shutes river is near fifteen miles east of the Dalles or
eastern base of these mountains; the river is about one hundred yards
wide, and the current very rapid; the stream is enclosed by lofty cliffs
of basaltic rock. Four hundred yards from the Columbia is a rapid or
cascade. Within the distance of thirty yards its descent is from fifteen
to twenty feet.[102] The current of this stream was so rapid and
violent, and withal of such depth, as to require us to ferry it. Some of
the companies behind us, however, drove over at its mouth by crossing on
a bar. Preparatory to ferrying, we unloaded our wagons, and taking them
apart, put them aboard some Indian canoes, which were in waiting, and
crossed in safety; after putting our wagons in order of travel, and
preparing to start, we discovered ourselves minus a quantity of powder
and shot, two shirts and two pairs of pantaloons, which the Indians had
appropriated to their own use, doubtless to pay the trouble of ferriage.
In the morning a quarrel ensued among the Indians respecting their
canoes, closing in a _melee_, and such a fight I never before witnessed;
stones and missiles of every description that were at hand were used
with freedom. We did not interfere with them, and when they were tired
of fighting the effects of the battle were visible in numerous
instances, such as bloody noses and battered, bleeding heads.
We ascended the bluff and traveled along the brink for several miles,
then crossed over the ridge to a small creek; after crossing it, we took
up a dry run for one or two miles, thence over a ridge to a running
branch, and there encamped. The country through which we traveled this
day was extremely rough; all prairie, and covered with grass, but very
dry.
_September 29._ This day we traveled about five miles, which brought us
to the _Dalles_, or Methodist Missions.[103]
Here was the end of our road, as no wagons had ever gone below this
place. We found some sixty families in waiting for a passage down the
river; and as there were but two small boats running to the Cascade
falls, our prospect for a speedy passage was not overly flattering.
_September 30._ This day we intended to make arrangements for our
passage down the river, but we found upon inquiry, that the two boats
spoken of were engaged for at least {62} ten days, and that their
charges were exorbitant, and would probably absorb what little we had
left to pay our way to _Oregon City_. We then determined to make a trip
over the mountains, and made inquiries respecting its practicability of
some Indians, but could learn nothing definite, excepting that grass,
timber and water would be found in abundance; we finally ascertained
that a Mr. Barlow and Mr. Nighton had, with the same object, penetrated
some twenty or twenty-five miles into the interior, and found it
impracticable. Nighton had returned, but Barlow was yet in the
mountains, endeavoring to force a passage; they had been absent six
days, with seven wagons in their train, intending to go as far as they
could, and if found to be impracticable, to return and go down the
river.[104]
We succeeded in persuading fifteen families to accompany us in our trip
over the mountains, and immediately made preparations for our march. On
the afternoon of the first of October, our preparations were announced
as complete, and we took up our line of march; others in the mean time
had joined us, and should we fall in with Barlow, our train would
consist of some thirty wagons.
But before proceeding with a description of this route, I will enter
into a detail of the difficulties undergone by the company of two
hundred wagons, which had separated from us at Malheur creek, under the
pilotage of Mr. Meek.
It will be remembered that S. L. Meek had induced about two hundred
families, with their wagons and stock, to turn off at Malheur, with the
view of saving thereby some one hundred and fifty miles travel; and they
had started about the last of August. They followed up Malheur creek,
keeping up the southern branch, and pursuing a southern course. For a
long time they found a very good road, plenty of grass, fuel and water;
they left these waters, and directed their course over a rough
mountainous country, almost entirely bereft of vegetation, were for many
days destitute of water, and when they were so fortunate as to procure
this indispensable element, it was found stagnant in pools, unfit even
for the use of cattle; but necessity compelled them to the use of it.
The result was, that it made many of them sick; many of the cattle
died, and the majority were unfit for labor. A disease termed
camp-fever, broke out among the different companies, of which many
became the victims.
{63} They at length arrived at a marshy lake, which they attempted to
cross, but found it impracticable; and as the marsh appeared to bear
south, and many of them were nearly out of provisions, they came to a
determination to pursue a northern course, and strike the Columbia.
Meek, however, wished to go south of the lake, but they would not follow
him. They turned north, and after a few days' travel arrived at Deshutes
or Falls river. They traveled up and down this river, endeavoring to
find a passage, but as it ran through rocky _kanyons_, it was impossible
to cross.
Their sufferings were daily increasing, their stock of provisions was
rapidly wasting away, their cattle were becoming exhausted, and many
attached to the company were laboring under severe attacks of
sickness;--at length Meek informed them that they were not more than two
days' ride from the Dalles. Ten men started on horseback for the
Methodist stations, with the view of procuring provisions; they took
with them a scanty supply of provisions, intended for the two days'
journey. After riding faithfully for ten days, they at last arrived at
the Dalles. On their way they encountered an Indian, who furnished them
with a fish and a rabbit; this with the provision they had started with,
was their only food for the ten days' travel. Upon their arrival at the
Dalles they were so exhausted in strength, and the rigidity of their
limbs, from riding, was so great, as to render them unable to dismount
without assistance. They reached the Dalles the day previous to our
arrival.
At this place they met an old mountaineer, usually called Black Harris,
who volunteered his services as a pilot.[105] He in company with several
others, started in search of the lost company, whom they found reduced
to great extremities; their provisions nearly exhausted, and the company
weakened by exertion, and despairing of ever reaching the settlements.
They succeeded in finding a place where their cattle could be driven
down to the river, and made to swim across; after crossing, the bluff
had to be ascended. Great difficulty arose in the attempt to effect a
passage with the wagons. The means finally resorted to for the
transportation of the families and wagons were novel in the extreme. A
large rope was swung across the stream and attached to the rocks on
either side; a light wagon bed was suspended from this rope with
pulleys, to which ropes were attached; this bed served to convey the
families and loading in safety across; the wagons {64} were then drawn
over the bed of the river by ropes. The passage of this river occupied
some two weeks. The distance was thirty-five miles to the Dalles, at
which place they arrived about the 13th, or 14th of October. Some twenty
of their number had perished by disease, previous to their arrival at
the Dalles, and a like number were lost, after their arrival, from the
same cause. This company has been known by the name of the St. Joseph
company; but there were persons from every state of the Union within its
ranks. Illinois and Missouri, however, had the largest representation.
The statements I have given are as correct as I could arrive at, from
consultation with many of the members. This expedition was unfortunate
in the extreme. Although commenced under favorable auspices, its
termination assumed a gloomy character.[106]
It has been stated that some members of the Hudson's Bay Company were
instrumental in this expedition, but such is not the fact. Whilst I was
at Fort Hall, I conversed with Captain Grant respecting the
practicability of this same route, and was advised of the fact, that the
teams would be unable to get through. The individual in charge at Fort
Bois also advised me to the same purport. The censure rests, in the
origin of the expedition, upon Meek; but I have not the least doubt but
he supposed they could get through in safety. I have understood that a
few of the members controlled Meek, and caused him to depart from his
original plan. It was his design to have conducted the party to the
_Willamette Valley_, instead of going to the Dalles; and the direction
he first traveled induced this belief. Meek is yet of the opinion that
had he gone round the marshy lake to the south, he would have struck the
settlement on the Willamette, within the time required to travel to the
Dalles. Had he discovered this route, it would have proved a great
saving in the distance. I do not question but that there may be a route
found to the south of this, opening into the valley of the
Willamette.[107] But I must again return to the subject of my travels.
_October 1._ At four o'clock, P. M., every thing was ready for our
departure, and we pursued our way over the ridge, in a southern course.
The country was very rolling, and principally prairie. We found
excellent grazing. Our camp was pitched on a small spring branch.
_October 2._ This day we made about ten miles, crossing several ravines,
many of which had running water in them; {65} the country, like that of
yesterday's travel, proved to be very rolling; our camp was situated on
a small spring branch, having its source in the mountain.
_October 3._ This morning I started on horseback in advance of the
company, accompanied by one of its members. Our course led us south over
a rolling, grassy plain; portions of the road were very stony. After a
travel of fourteen miles, we arrived at a long and steep declivity,
which we descended, and after crossing the creek at its base, ascended a
bluff; in the bottom are seen several small enclosures, where the
Indians have cultivated the soil; a few Indian huts may be seen along
this stream.
Meek's company crossed Deshute's river near the mouth of this stream,
which is five miles distant.[108] After ascending, we turned to the
right, directing our course over a level grassy plain for some five
miles or more, when we crossed a running branch; five miles brought us
to Stony Branch, and to scattering yellow pine timber. Here we found
Barlow's company of seven wagons. Barlow was absent at the time, having
with three others started into the mountain two days before. We remained
with them all night.
_October 4._ This morning myself and companion, with a scanty supply of
provisions for a two days' journey, started on a westerly course into
the mountains. From the open ground we could see Mount Hood. Our object
was to go south and near to this peak. For five miles the country was
alternately prairie and yellow pine; we then ascended a ridge, which
ascended gradually to the west. This we followed for ten miles. After
the crossing of a little brushy bottom, we took over another ridge for
four or five miles, very heavily timbered and densely covered with
undergrowth. We descended the ridge for a short distance, and traveled a
level bench for four miles; this is covered with very large and tall fir
timber; we then descended the mountain, traveling westward for one and a
half miles; we then came to a small branch, which we named Rock
creek.[109] After crossing the creek, we ascended a hill for one fourth
of a mile, then bore to the left around the hill, through a dense forest
of spruce pine. After five miles travel from Rock creek we came to a
marshy cedar swamp; we turned to the left, and there found a suitable
place for crossing. Here is a stream of from five to six yards in width,
when confined to one channel; but in many places it runs over a bottom
of two rods in width, strewed with old moss {66} covered logs and roots.
The water was extremely clear and cold. Four miles brought us to the top
of the bluff of a deep gulf; we turned our course northward for two
miles, when darkness overtook us, forcing us to encamp. A little grass
was discernible on the mountain sides, which afforded our jaded horses a
scanty supply.
_October 5._ At an early hour this morning, I proceeded down the
mountain to the stream at its base. I found the descent very abrupt and
difficult; the distance was one half mile. The water was running very
rapid; it had the same appearance as the water of the _Missouri_, being
filled with white sand. I followed this stream up for some distance, and
ascertained that its source was in Mount Hood; and from the appearance
of the banks, it seems that its waters swell during the night,
overflowing its banks, and subside again by day; it empties into
Deshute's river, having a sandy bottom of from two rods to half a mile
wide, covered with scrubby pines, and sometimes a slough of alder
bushes, with a little grass and rushes. We then ascended the mountain,
and as our stock of provisions was barely sufficient to last us through
the day, it was found necessary to return to camp. We retraced our steps
to where we had struck the bluff, and followed down a short distance
where we found the mountain of sufficiently gradual descent to admit of
the passage of teams; we could then follow up the bottom towards _Mount
Hood_, and as we supposed that this peak was the dividing ridge, we had
reasonable grounds to hope that we could get through. We then took our
trail in the direction of the camp; and late in the evening, tired and
hungry, we arrived at Rock creek, where we found our company encamped.
Barlow had not yet returned, but we resolved to push forward.
_October 6._ We remained in camp. As the grazing was poor in the timber,
and our loose cattle much trouble to us, we determined to send a party
with them to the settlement. The Indians had informed us that there was
a trail to the north, which ran over Mount Hood, and thence to Oregon
city. This party was to proceed up one of the ridges until they struck
this trail, and then follow it to the settlement. Two families decided
upon going with this party, and as I expected to have no further use for
my horse, I sent him with them. They were to procure provisions and
assistance, and meet us on the way. We had forwarded, by a company of
cattle-drivers from the Dalles, which started for the settlement on the
first of the {67} month, a request that they would send us provisions
and assistance; but as we knew nothing of their whereabouts, we had
little hope of being benefited by them.[110] The day was spent in making
the necessary arrangements for the cattle-drivers, and for working the
road. In the afternoon, Barlow and his party returned. They had taken
nearly the same route that we had; they had followed up the bluff of
this branch of the De Shutes, to within twelve or fifteen miles of Mount
Hood, where they supposed they had seen Willamette valley. They had then
taken the Indian trail spoken of, and followed it to one of the ridges
leading down to the river De Shutes; this they followed, and came out
near our camp. We now jointly adopted measures for the prosecution of
the work before us.
_October 7._ Early in the morning, the party designated to drive our
loose cattle made their arrangements, and left us. And as we supposed
our stock of provisions was insufficient to supply us until these men
returned, we dispatched a few men to the Dalles for a beef and some
wheat; after which, we divided our company so as that a portion were to
remain and take charge of the camp. A sufficient number were to pack
provisions, and the remainder were to be engaged in opening the road.
All being ready, each one entered upon the duty assigned him with an
alacrity and willingness that showed a full determination to prosecute
it to completion, if possible. On the evening of the 10th, we had opened
a road to the top of the mountain, which we were to descend to the
branch of the De Shutes.[111] The side of the mountain was covered with
a species of laurel bush, and so thick, that it was almost impossible to
pass through it, and as it was very dry we set it on fire. We passed
down and encamped on the creek, and during the night the fire had nearly
cleared the road on the side of the mountain.
On the morning of October 11th, a consultation was had, when it was
determined that Mr. Barlow, Mr. Lock, and myself, should go in advance,
and ascertain whether we could find a passage over the main dividing
ridge. In the mean time, the remainder of the party were to open the
road up the creek bottom as far as they could, or until our return. We
took some provision in our pockets, an axe, and one rifle, and started.
We followed up this branch about fifteen miles, when we reached a creek,
coming in from the left. We followed up this for a short distance, and
then struck across to {68} the main fork; and in doing so, we came into
a cedar swamp, so covered with heavy timber and brush that it was almost
impossible to get through it. We were at least one hour in traveling
half a mile. We struck the opening along the other fork, traveled up
this about eight miles, and struck the Indian trail spoken of before,
near where it comes down the mountain. The last eight miles of our
course had been nearly north--a high mountain putting down between the
branch and main fork. Where we struck the trail, it turned west into a
wide, sandy and stony plain, of several miles in width, extending up to
_Mount Hood_, about seven or eight miles distant, and in plain view.
I had never before looked upon a sight so nobly grand. We had previously
seen only the top of it, but now we had a view of the whole mountain. No
pen can give an adequate description of this scene. The bottom which we
were ascending, had a rise of about three feet to the rod. A perfect
mass of rock and gravel had been washed down from the mountain. In one
part of the bottom was standing a grove of dead trees, the top of which
could be seen; from appearance, the surface had been filled up
seventy-five or eighty feet about them. The water came tumbling down,
through a little channel, in torrents. Near the upper end of the bottom,
the mountains upon either side narrowed in until they left a deep chasm
or gulf, where it emerged from the rocky cliffs above.
Stretching away to the south, was a range of mountain, which from the
bottom appeared to be connected with the mountain on our left. It
appeared to be covered with timber far up; then a space of over two
miles covered with grass; then a space of more than a mile destitute of
vegetation; then commenced the snow, and continued rising until the eye
was pained in looking to the top. To our right was a high range, which
connected with Mount Hood, covered with timber. The timber near the snow
was dead.
We followed this trail for five or six miles, when it wound up a grassy
ridge to the left--followed it up to where it connected with the main
ridge; this we followed up for a mile, when the grass disappeared, and
we came to a ridge entirely destitute of vegetation. It appeared to be
sand and gravel, or rather, decomposed material from sandstone crumbled
to pieces. Before reaching this barren ridge, we met a party of those
who had started with the loose cattle, hunting for some which had
strayed off. They informed us that they had lost about {69} one-third of
their cattle, and were then encamped on the west side of Mount Hood. We
determined to lodge with them, and took the trail over the mountain. In
the mean time, the cattle-drovers had found a few head, and traveled
with us to their camp.
Soon after ascending and winding round this barren ridge, we crossed a
ravine, one or two rods in width, upon the snow, which terminated a
short distance below the trail, and extended up to the top of Mount
Hood. We then went around the mountain for about two miles, crossing
several strips of snow, until we came to a deep kanyon or gulf, cut out
by the wash from the mountain above us. A precipitate cliff of rocks, at
the head, prevented a passage around it. The hills were of the same
material as that we had been traveling over, and were very steep.
I judged the ravine to be three thousand feet deep. The manner of
descending is to turn directly to the right, go zigzag for about one
hundred yards, then turn short round, and go zigzag until you come under
the place where you started from; then to the right, and so on, until
you reach the base. In the bottom is a rapid stream, filled with sand.
After crossing, we ascended in the same manner, went round the point of
a ridge, where we struck another ravine; the sides of this were covered
with grass and whortleberry bushes. In this ravine we found the camp of
our friends. We reached them about dark; the wind blew a gale, and it
was quite cold.
_October 12._ After taking some refreshment, we ascended the mountain,
intending to head the deep ravine, in order to ascertain whether there
was any gap in the mountain south of us, which would admit of a pass.
From this peak, we overlooked the whole of the mountains. We followed up
the grassy ridge for one mile and a half, when it became barren. My two
friends began to lag behind, and show signs of fatigue; they finally
stopped, and contended that we could not get round the head of the
ravine, and that it was useless to attempt an ascent. But I was of a
different opinion, and wished to go on. They consented, and followed for
half a mile, when they sat down, and requested me to go up to the ledge,
and, if we could effect a passage up and get round it, to give them a
signal. I did so, and found that by climbing up a cliff of snow and ice,
for about forty feet, but not so steep but that by getting upon one
cliff, and cutting holes to stand in and hold on by, it could be
ascended. I gave the signal, and they came up. In the {70} mean time, I
had cut and carved my way up the cliff, and when up to the top was
forced to admit that it was something of an undertaking; but as I had
arrived safely at the top of the cliff, I doubted not but they could
accomplish the same task, and as my moccasins were worn out, and the
soles of my feet exposed to the snow, I was disposed to be traveling,
and so left them to get up the best way they could. After proceeding
about one mile upon the snow, continually winding up, I began to despair
of seeing my companions. I came to where a few detached pieces of rock
had fallen from the ledge above and rolled down upon the ice and snow,
(for the whole mass is more like ice than snow;) I clambered upon one of
these, and waited half an hour. I then rolled stones down the mountain
for half an hour; but as I could see nothing of my two friends, I began
to suspect that they had gone back, and crossed in the trail. I then
went round to the southeast side, continually ascending, and taking an
observation of the country south, and was fully of the opinion that we
could find a passage through.[112]
The waters of this deep ravine, and of numerous ravines to the
northwest, as well as the southwest, form the heads of Big Sandy and
Quicksand rivers, which empty into the Columbia, about twenty-five or
thirty miles below the Cascade Falls.[113] I could see down this stream
some twelve or fifteen miles, where the view was obstructed by a high
range coming round from the northwest side, connecting by a low gap with
some of the spurs from this peak. All these streams were running through
such deep chasms, that it was impossible to pass them with teams. To the
south, were two ranges of mountains, connecting by a low gap with this
peak, and winding round until they terminated near Big Sandy. I observed
that a stream, heading near the base of this peak and running southeast
{71} for several miles, there appeared to turn to the west. This I
judged to be the head waters of Clackamis, which empties into the
Willamette, near Oregon city; but the view was hid by a high range of
mountains putting down in that direction.[114] A low gap seemed to
connect this stream, or some other, heading in this high range, with
the low bottoms immediately under the base of this peak. I was of the
opinion that a pass might be found between this peak and the first range
of mountains, by digging down some of the gravel hills; and if not,
there would be a chance of passing between the first and second ranges,
through this gap to the branch of Clackamis; or, by taking some of the
ranges of mountains and following them down, could reach the open ground
near the Willamette, as there appeared to be spurs extending in that
direction. I could also see a low gap in the direction from where we
crossed the small branch, coming up the creek on the 11th, towards
several small prairies south of us. It appeared, that if we could get a
road opened to that place, our cattle could range about these prairies
until we could find a passage for the remainder of the way.
The day was getting far advanced, and we had no provisions, save each of
us a small biscuit; and knowing that we had at least twenty-five miles
to travel, before reaching those working on the road, I hastened down
the mountain. I had no difficulty in finding a passage down; but I saw
some deep ravines and crevices in the ice which alarmed me, as I was
compelled to travel over them. The snow and ice had melted underneath,
and in many places had left but a thin shell upon the surface; some of
them had fallen in and presented hideous looking caverns. I was soon out
of danger, and upon the east side of the deep ravine I saw my two
friends slowly winding their way up the mountain. They had gone to the
foot of the ledge, and as they wore boots, and were much fatigued, they
abandoned the trip, and returned down the mountain to the trail, where
I joined them. We there rested awhile, and struck our course for one of
the prairies which we had seen from the mountain. On our way we came to
a beautiful spring of water, surrounded with fine timber; the ground was
covered with whortle berry bushes, and many of them hanging full of
fruit, we halted, ate our biscuit, gathered berries, and then proceeded
down the mountain.
After traveling about ten miles, we reached the prairie. It was covered
with grass, and was very wet. A red sediment {72} of about two inches in
depth covered the surface of the ground in the grass, such as is found
around mineral springs. A beautiful clear stream of water was running
through the prairie, in a southeast direction. We had seen a prairie
about two miles further south, much larger than this, which we supposed
to be dry. We now took our course for camp, intending to strike through
the gap to the mouth of the small branch; but we failed in finding the
right _shute_, and came out into the bottom, three miles above where we
had first struck the cattle or Indian trail. We then took down the
bottom, and arrived in camp about eleven o'clock at night; and although
not often tired, I was willing to acknowledge that I was near being so.
I certainly was hungry, but my condition was so much better than that of
my two friends, that I could not murmur. Our party had worked the road
up to the small branch, where they were encamped.
On the morning of the 13th of October we held a consultation, and
determined upon the future movements of the company. The party
designated to bring us provisions had performed that service; but the
amount of our provisions was nearly exhausted, and many of the party
had no means of procuring more. Some of them began to despair of getting
through this season. Those left with the camp were unable to keep the
cattle together, and a number of them had been lost. The Indians had
stolen several horses, and a variety of mishaps occurred, such as would
necessarily follow from a company so long remaining in one position.
They were now on a small creek, five miles from Stony hill, which we
called Camp creek, and near the timber. It was impossible to keep more
than one third of the men working at the road; the remainder were needed
to attend the camp and pack provisions. It was determined to send a
party and view out the road, through to the open country, near the mouth
of Clackamis, whilst the others were to open the road as far as the big
prairie; a number sufficient to bring up the teams and loose cattle,
(for a number of families with their cattle had joined since ours left,
and portions of our company did not send their loose cattle,) to a
grassy prairie in this bottom, and near the mouth of this creek, as the
time required to pack provisions to those working on the road would be
saved. All being arranged, the next thing was to designate the persons
to go ahead of the party, and if found practicable to return with
provisions and help; or at all events to ascertain whether the route
were practicable.
{73} It was determined that I should undertake this trip. I asked only
one man to accompany me. We took our blankets, a limited supply of
provisions, and one light axe, and at eight o'clock in the morning set
out. I was satisfied that the creek which we were then on, headed in the
low gap, seen from Mount Hood; and the party were to open the road up
this branch. But as I was to precede them, I passed up this creek for
about eight or ten miles, when I discovered the low gap, went through
it, and at noon arrived at the wet prairie, which we had visited the day
before. The route was practicable, but would require great labor to
remove the timber, and cut out the underbrush.
We halted at the creek and took some refreshment; we then struck for the
low gap between the first range of mountains running west, and the base
of Mount Hood, and traveled through swamps, small prairies, brush, and
heavy timber for about twelve miles, when we found the labor necessary
to open a wagon road in this direction, to be greater than we could
possibly bestow upon it before the rainy season. We determined to try
some other route, retraced our steps six or seven miles, and then bore
to the right, around the base of the mountain, when we struck into an
old Indian trail. This we followed for seven or eight miles, through the
gap I had seen from Mount Hood. It is a rolling bottom of about four or
five miles in width, and extending from the base of Mount Hood south for
ten or twelve miles. The trail wound around the mountain, but as its
course was about that we wished to travel, we followed it until it ran
out at the top of the mountain. We then took the ridge west, and
traveled until dark; but as the moon shone bright, and the timber was
not very thick, we turned an angle down the mountain to the left, to
procure water. We traveled about three miles, and struck upon a small
running branch; this we followed, until owing to the darkness, we were
compelled to encamp, much fatigued, and somewhat disheartened.
_October 14._ At daylight we were on the way. My moccasins, which the
night before had received a pair of soles, in yesterday's tramp had
given way, and in traveling after night my feet had been badly snagged,
so that I was in poor plight for walking; but as there was no
alternative, we started down the mountain, and after traveling a few
miles I felt quite well and was able to take the lead. We traveled about
three miles, when we struck a large creek which had a very rapid
current, over a stony bottom. I had hoped to find a bottom of sufficient
{74} width to admit of a wagon road, but after following down this
stream six miles, I was satisfied that it would not do to attempt it
this season.
The weather, which had been entirely clear for months, had through the
night began to cloud up; and in the morning the birds, squirrels, and
every thing around, seemed to indicate the approach of a storm. I began
for the first time to falter, and was at a stand to know what course to
pursue. I had understood that the rainy season commenced in October, and
that the streams rose to an alarming height, and I was sensible that if
we crossed the branch of the Deshutes, which headed in Mount Hood, and
the rainy season set in, we could not get back, and to get forward would
be equally impossible; so that in either event starvation would be the
result. And as I had been very active in inducing others to embark in
the enterprise, my conscience would not allow me to go on and thus
endanger so many families. But to go back, and state to them the
difficulties to be encountered, and the necessity of taking some other
course, seemed to be my duty. I therefore resolved to return, and
recommend selecting some suitable place for a permanent camp, build a
cabin, put in such effects as we could not pack out, and leave our
wagons and effects in the charge of some persons until we could return
the next season, unencumbered with our families and cattle, and finish
the road;--or otherwise to return to the Dalles with our teams, where we
could leave our baggage in charge of the missionaries, and then descend
the Columbia. And when my mind was fully made up, we were not long in
carrying it into execution.
We accordingly ascended the mountain, as it was better traveling than in
the bottom. The distance to the summit was about four miles, and the way
was sometimes so steep as to render it necessary to pull up by the
bushes. We then traveled east until we reached the eastern point of this
mountain, and descended to the bottom, the base of which we had
traversed the day before. We then struck for the trail, soon found it,
and followed it until it led us to the southern end of the wet prairie.
We then struck for the lower gap in the direction of the camp, crossed
over and descended the branch to near its mouth, where we found four of
our company clearing the road, the remainder having returned to Camp
creek for teams. But as we had traveled about fifty miles this day, I
was unable to reach the camp.
_October 15._ This morning we all started for camp, carrying {75} with
us our tools and provisions. We reached camp about two P.M. Many of our
cattle could not be found, but before night nearly all were brought into
camp. The whole matter was then laid before the company, when it was
agreed that we should remove over to the bottom, near the small creek,
and if the weather was unfavorable, leave our baggage and wagons, and
pack out the families as soon as possible. But as some were out of
provisions, it was important that a messenger should be sent on ahead
for provisions, and horses to assist in packing out. Mr. Buffum, and
lady, concluded to pack out what articles they could, and leave a man to
take charge of the teams and cattle, until he returned with other
horses. He kindly furnished me with one of his horses to ride to the
settlement. He also supplied the wife of Mr. Thompson with a horse. Mr.
Barlow and Mr. Rector made a proposition to continue working the road
until the party could go to and return from the valley; they agreeing to
insure the safety of the wagons, if compelled to remain through the
winter, by being paid a certain per cent. upon the valuation. This
proposition was thought reasonable by some, and it was partially agreed
to. And as there were some who had no horses with which to pack out
their families, they started on foot for the valley, designing to look
out a road as they passed along. Some men in the mean time were to
remain with the camp, which as above stated was to be removed to the
small branch on Shutes' fork; and those who intended pushing out at
once, could follow up it to the Indian trail. This all being agreed
upon, arrangements were made accordingly.
_October 16._ The morning was lowering, with every indication of rain.
Messrs. Barlow and Rector started on the trip.[115] All hands were
making arrangements for moving the camp. In the mean time Mr. Buffum and
his lady, and Mrs. Thompson, were ready to start.[116] I joined them,
and we again set out for the settlement. We had traveled about two miles
when it commenced raining, and continued raining slightly all day. We
encamped on the bottom of Shutes' fork, near the small branch. It rained
nearly all night.
On the morning of the 17th October after our horses had filled
themselves, we packed up and started. It was still raining. We followed
up this bottom to the trail, and then pursued the trail over Mount Hood.
Whilst going over this mountain the rain poured down in torrents, it was
foggy, and very cold. We arrived at the deep ravine at about four P.M.,
{76} and before we ascended the opposite bank it was dark; but we felt
our way over the ridge, and round the point to the grassy run. Here was
grazing for our tired horses, and we dismounted. Upon the side of the
mountain, where were a few scattering trees, we found some limbs and
sticks, with which we succeeded in getting a little fire. We then found
a few sticks and constructed a tent, covering it with blankets, which
protected our baggage and the two women. Mr. Buffum and myself stood
shivering in the rain around the fire, and when daylight appeared, it
gave us an opportunity to look at each others' lank visages. Our horses
were shivering with the cold, the rain had put out our fire, and it
seemed as though every thing had combined to render us miserable. After
driving our horses round awhile, they commenced eating; but we had very
little to eat, and were not troubled much in cooking it.
_October 18._ As soon as our horses had satisfied themselves we packed
up and ascended the mountain over the ridge, and for two miles winding
around up and down over a rough surface covered with grass. The rain was
falling in torrents, and it was so foggy that we could barely see the
trail. We at length went down a ridge two miles, when we became
bewildered in the thick bushes. The trail had entirely disappeared. We
could go no farther. The two women sat upon their horses in the rain,
whilst I went back to search for the right trail; Buffum endeavoring to
make his way down the mountain. I rambled about two miles up the
mountain, where I found the right trail, and immediately returned to
inform them of it. Buffum had returned, and of course had not found the
trail. We then ascended the mountain to the trail, when a breeze sprung
up and cleared away the fog. We could then follow the trail.
We soon saw a large band of cattle coming up the mountain, and in a
short time met a party of men following them. They had started from the
Dalles about eight days before, and encamped that night four or five
miles below, and as it was a barren spot, their cattle had strayed to
the mountain to get grass. But what was very gratifying, they informed
us that a party of men from Oregon city, with provisions for our company
had encamped with them, and were then at their camp. We hastened down
the mountain, and in a few hours arrived at the camp. But imagine our
feelings when we learned that those having provisions for us, had
despaired of finding us, and {77} having already been out longer than
was expected, had returned to the settlement, carrying with them all the
provisions, save what they had distributed to these men. We were wet,
cold, and hungry, and would not be likely to overtake them. We prevailed
upon one of the men whom we found at the camp, to mount one of our
horses, and follow them. He was absent about ten minutes, when he
returned and informed us that they were coming. They soon made their
appearance. This revived us, and for awhile we forgot that we were wet
and cold. They had gone about six miles back, when some good spirit
induced them to return to camp, and make one more effort to find us. The
camp was half a mile from the creek, and we had nothing but two small
coffee-pots, and a few tin cups, to carry water in; but this was
trifling, as the rain was still pouring down upon us. We speedily made a
good fire, and set to work making a tent, which we soon accomplished,
and the two women prepared us a good supper of bread and coffee. It was
a rainy night, but we were as comfortable as the circumstances would
admit.
_October 19._ After breakfast, the drovers left us; and as the party
which had brought us provisions had been longer out than had been
contemplated, Mr. Stewart and Mr. Gilmore wished to return. It was
determined that Mr. Buffum, the two females, Mr. Stewart, and Mr. N.
Gilmore, should go on to the settlement, and that Mr. C. Gilmore, and
the Indian who had been sent along to assist in driving the horses, and
myself, should hasten on with the provisions to the camp. We were soon
on the way, and climbing up the mountain. The horses were heavily
loaded, and in many places the mountain was very slippery, and of course
we had great difficulty in getting along. It was still raining heavily,
and the fog so thick that a person could not see more than fifteen feet
around. We traveled about two miles up the mountain, when we found that
whilst it had been raining in the valley it had been snowing on the
mountain. The trail was so covered with snow that it was difficult to
find it, and, to increase our difficulty, the Indian refused to go any
farther. We showed him the whip, which increased his speed a little, but
he soon forgot it, was very sulky, and would not assist in driving. We
at length arrived at the deep ravine; here there was no snow, and we
passed it without serious difficulty. Two of our packs coming off, and
rolling down the hill, was the only serious trouble that we had. When we
ascended the hill to {78} the eastern side of the gulf, we found the
snow much deeper than upon the western side; besides, it had drifted,
and rendered the passage over the strip of the old snow somewhat
dangerous, as in many places the action of the water had melted the
snow upon the under side, and left a thin shell over the surface, and in
some places holes had melted through. We were in danger of falling into
one of these pits. Coming to one of these ravines where the snow had
drifted very much, I dismounted in order to pick a trail through, but
before this was completed, our horses started down the bank. I had
discovered two of these pits, and ran to head the horses and turn them;
but my riding horse started to run, and went directly between the two
pits; his weight jarred the crust loose, and it fell in, presenting a
chasm of some twenty-five or thirty feet in depth, but the horse, being
upon the run, made his way across the pit. The other horses, hearing the
noise and seeing the pits before them, turned higher up, where the snow
and ice were thicker, and all reached the opposite side in safety.
Our Indian friend now stopped, and endeavored to turn the horses back,
but two to one was an uneven game, and it was played to his
disadvantage. He wanted an additional blanket; this I promised him, and
he consented to go on. We soon met two Indians, on their way from the
Dalles to Oregon city; our Indian conversed with them awhile, and then
informed us of his intention to return with them. Whilst parleying with
him, a party of men from our camp came up the mountain with their
cattle; they had driven their teams to the small branch of the De
Shutes, twelve miles below the mountain, where they had left the
families, and started out with their cattle before the stream should get
too high to cross. Whilst we were conversing with these men, our Indian
had succeeded in getting one loose horse, and the one which he was
riding, so far from the band of pack-horses that, in the fog, we could
not see him, and he returned to the settlement with the two Indians we
had just met.
Our horses were very troublesome to drive, as they had ate nothing for
thirty-six hours; but we succeeded in getting them over the snow, and
down to the grassy ridge, where we stopped for the night. My friend
Gilmore shouldered a bag of flour, carried it half a mile down the
mountain to a running branch, opened the sack, poured in water, and
mixed up bread. In the mean time, I had built a fire. We wrapped the
dough around sticks and baked it before the fire, heated water in our
{79} tin cups and made a good dish of tea, and passed a very comfortable
night. It had ceased raining before sunset, and the morning was clear
and pleasant; we forgot the past, and looked forward to a bright future.
_October 20._ At 8 o'clock we packed up, took the trail down the
mountain to the gravelly bottom, and t
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