December thirty-first, eighteen hundred and fifty-one.
Left Wheeling on Steamer _Messenger_ for Pittsburgh, April twentieth.
Exodus to California.
The tide of emigration for California swept me along in its progress
for the same reason as thousands of others—to appropriate money enough
by a few years' hard toil, to secure a future independency. When
first the idea of a movement to the West took possession of me, I was
wavering in the choice between California and Oregon and gave finally
preference to Oregon on account of securing a homestead at the arrival
there and to judge from the last news of the diggings better wages
than in the latter. From an inability to make up a certain complement
of immigrants I had to give up the project and go to California. I
left subsequently Pittsburgh on the Steamer _Paris_, passing Wheeling
without seeing my brother, and arrived after a week's journey down to
the mouth of the Ohio River and from Cairo up the Mississippi to St.
Louis.
The Ohio River is formed by the confluence of the Monongahela and the
Allegheny at Pittsburgh, the formation of which place is alluvial
bottom carried down from the mountains in previous ages. It has
along its shores some of the finest agricultural country as well as
numberless cities and towns, among which we count the following as the
largest and where the most business is carried on: Wheeling, Virginia,
Marietta, Ohio, Cincinnati, Louisville, Evansville, etc. Besides
these, being all places where manufacture of all kinds is carried on,
I mention from its great obstruction to navigation, rather than its
cosmogenic character, the Falls of Louisville, with the nature of which
I am, however, too little acquainted to give particulars. A canal,
which was built years ago, to overcome this obstacle, is of so little
dimensions that the larger boats can not pass through and therefore
this has always been a drawback to Ohio navigation and a hindrance to
more progress for the City of Louisville. Several requests have lately
been made from several states to Congress for the construction of a
new canal large enough to let boats of large dimensions pass at any
time conveniently. The hills running alongside the river beginning at
its source generally slope down to its shores, having in many places
very fertile tracts for agriculture. This mountain chain proceeds
most of the time in a parallel direction with the river down to about
one hundred and fifty to two hundred miles below the falls where they
gradually descend to a level covered with luxurious vegetation in
some places while marshes extend over a considerable part of it. The
confluence of the Ohio and Mississippi is at Cairo, built on a vast
swampy and unhealthy desert which, but for its low level, would be the
central place of the United States, for merchants, around which they
would gather and from whose midst the greatest movements would emerge
and be controlled. This being, however, a natural difficulty, which no
human skill can ameliorate, that centralizing point has to move higher
up the river to St. Louis. This latter place has within the last twenty
years increased remarkably and is at present the metropolis of the
West and will undoubtedly increase in importance in a ratio parallel
with the civilization of California and Oregon. By the present tide of
emigration to the latter countries the amount of business is very much
increased. In consequence of this a great many improvements have been
made, consisting in building a large number of new expensive houses for
merchants and manufacturers which betray to every stranger at the first
look the impression of a great and industrial city.
Leaving St. Louis on the Steamer _El Paso_, we proceeded up the
Mississippi twenty miles where we left this river to follow the course
of another great river, the Missouri. This has in its main features
a great resemblance to the Mississippi, having a chain of mountains
parallel to both its shores and being sown with numberless islands
like the former, the most of them nothing but sand carried down
from the Rocky Mountains. The hills, however, instead of breaking
off abruptly as on the Mississippi are generally sloping gradually
at a height of sixty or seventy feet, toward the river bed. The
country along the shores is comparatively little cultivated, the
constantly washing power of the water keeping back any active efforts
for agricultural improvements. A great number of quite respectable
towns are met with along the river, as Alton, Washington, Jefferson,
Booneville, Lexington, Independence (starting point for California,
Oregon and Texas) then, Kansas and last St. Joseph. The Kansas River
coming from the West, separates Missouri from the Indian Territory,
the latter still peopled by the Indians as their last and only resting
place in this country. The history of this great family of the human
race teaches us the constant progress and retreat in the pursuit of
nature's laws, the eternal relation of all things existing. This once
so numerous family of red men were the sole possessors of America,
over which they had extended in all directions, and several tribes
had reached a high state of civilization when the country first was
discovered, but as other families analogous to their own (Hindus and
Malays), they retrograded by some aberration of the laws of nature and
fell back into moral darkness and gradual disappearance from the face
of the earth. The red men, once the masters of this vast land, had to
give up their homes to give room to its present inhabitants and who
knows how soon an inevitable Nemesis will strike out their existence
from the Book of Nations?
This territory consists of mostly fertile prairie land, of an
undulating appearance offering most beautiful fields to the observer of
nature's beauties. After six days' journey we arrived at St. Joseph,
Missouri. After our landing was made, a most active business took place
at the wharf for a few hours arising from the delivery of freight to
its respective owners. Having received our little property we put it in
our wagons and camped out about a half mile above the town in a valley
surrounded by hills and corn fields and except for a few cold rainy
days we had a good encampment and passed the time we were there in
making preparation for our long journey.
We left camp the third day of May to proceed on our journey further
West, and after a few hours traveling not obstructed by difficulties
with our teams nor bad roads, we arrived at Duncan's Ferry where
emigrants for the West leave the United States and cross over to the
Indian Territory. The ferry being badly attended to by its owners
travelers were obliged to stop here rather longer than would be
necessary if things were put in better condition with better men
there to take care of it. We got across the river, however, after a
thirty-six hour detention and put our foot on Indian ground the morning
of the fifth, went on five miles, where, meeting good wood and water,
we struck our camp and stopped until the next morning.
May sixth. The quiet of the night from the fifth to the sixth was
interrupted by the heavy rolling of thunder, and its darkness by
flashes of lightning. Towards morning we had a very heavy rain, which,
although it put the roads in a rather bad condition, helped the
vegetation considerably, and therefore, was of some advantage to our
procedure. On the morning of the sixth we started on our journey, and
after passing a river which is difficult to cross we ascended for the
first time the plateau this side of the Missouri. After having got up
to a height of about fifty feet above the level of the Missouri River,
a magnificent scene was displayed to our view, resembling very much
my native country—Germany. The whole ground is prairie land, running
off in slight undulations to the horizon and bounded in its Eastern
progress by the bed of the Missouri and the mountain chains on the left.
Nature is in this territory following its gradual progress and offers a
vast land for cultivation to the natives of this and other continents.
The civilization of this territory and Oregon will raise America
to its pinnacle of perfection, both in wealth and moral efficiency.
California and the Western shore of Oregon will become a centralizing
place for business progress from which knowledge will spread out a
beacon light to all nations.
We traveled this day about ten miles North-westward from our last
encampment and about fifteen miles from St. Joseph. Our team got along
very well and could have traveled several miles more but for driving
our cattle as little as possible the first few days, to let them gather
all the strength possible. We encamped at the left of the road where we
met with plenty of wood and water and off to the right with pasture for
our cattle.
On the morning of the seventh after having fed our oxen and taken
some refreshment ourselves we started for our further journey. About
one-half mile from Camp we passed the Creek, on its upward ascent;
passing on about a mile further we arrived at Wolf Creek, across which
the Indians have struck a bridge, for the crossing of which they charge
the emigrants a high price. It is, however, a great convenience to
the latter, the creek being about thirty feet wide and from three to
four feet deep. The Indians, who built the bridge, have put up their
camp there. This side of the creek I ascended several hills, and
after traveling about five miles arrived at the Mission. This is an
Indian settlement, where the Indians are taught the principles of
Christianity. It consists of a few log huts, one of which contains
stores where several of our traveling companions stopped and bought
articles necessary on our journey.
After leaving the Mission we went on about thirteen miles further,
meeting within this distance with several springs and after passing
another creek we went up to the next hill and put up quarters for
the night. This evening we bought a pony from some of the emigrants,
which, although not of immediate necessity for the journey, is a very
convenient thing to its owners.
On the morning of the eighth I mounted the pony and rode ahead for
a few miles. I mention this as being rather something great, being
the first riding ever I did. Crossed about three miles from our last
encampment—Buffalo Creek—where the Indians again charge toll for
crossing and drove on this side the creek about twelve miles, meeting
the grave of a deceased emigrant, on which lay a live dog, probably
the only faithful servant to his master, howling away and paying the
last tokens of sympathy to him who was resting there in a lonely grave.
We stopped at the left of the road till morning, where we calculated
to lay over Sunday. However, not finding good pasture for our cattle,
we left there about eleven o'clock and proceeded forwards about eight
miles where we unyoked our teams and put up for the night.
May the tenth. We started early in the morning, proceeding Southwest
on our road. Although the sky was clear at daylight, it clouded over
toward noon and we had one of the hard storms frequent on the plains
and exposing the emigrants to discomfort and contagious diseases.
Having driven off from the road expecting to find water and wood
in a Southwesterly direction, about two miles off, we finally met,
after having been wet all through, a creek bordered by plenty of
timber, where we put up our encampment. These were some of the most
discouraging moments we had since our start—arising from the wet and
cold of the weather, and only moral courage can at this moment prevent
moral depression. A man that had come around with us from Pittsburgh
and displayed to us the most gentlemanly behaviour, having started with
a sick family of eight little children from St. Joseph, and kept with
us up to this night, keeping up under all difficulties, was obliged, on
account of his wife getting sick, a woman of the greatest energy ever
met with, to turn back to the States. After having dried ourselves, we
took a good night's rest and started with new vigor the next morning
on our journey. We had no difficulty getting along until about three
o'clock P.M.
About this time we arrived at a creek called Mehemahah. The descent to
the water is very steep and muddy, however of no great difficulty,
compared to what is on the other side. Here, after passing the rapid
stream, the water up to the wagon beds, we had to wade through some
of the greatest mud holes ever met with before. Several of the teams
got stuck on the other side. By increasing, however, the force, they
finally got out and cleared the road for us to pass. After having
proceeded about three miles on this side of the Mehemahah we stopped
for the night.
It is Wednesday to-day, the twelfth day of May, and we have safely
arrived at this side of the Big Blue River. This is a very nice stream
and bordered with willow, elm and walnut and some of the oak found
on the hills. We crossed the river the next day having but little
difficulty, the river being low and the roads good. A starting house
is to be found at the ferry this side of the river where emigrants can
get what is most necessary on the journey. The country Westward of the
Blue becomes very hilly, which with the rivulets and streams between
presents a beautiful scene. The Blue River is about one hundred fifty
miles from St. Joseph and supposed to be about one-half the distance
to Fort Kearney. We have traveled since our fording of that stream
about thirty-five miles and are at the present encamped somewhere in
the neighborhood of Little Blue. The weather set in extremely cold
and stormy about midnight and not having sufficient bed clothing
nearly froze me to death. After having got up and taken our morning
refreshments, we went on to our present place of encampment. The just
mentioned stormy and extremely cold weather continued throughout the
day, which, with the dust raised off the roads, made traveling very
disagreeable and difficult.
On Sunday last we got in sight of the Little Blue in a Southerly
direction from our present route. We did not, however, come to its
banks before Tuesday the eighteenth day, and passed up an extremely
hilly country for about twenty-five miles and left this river for the
Platte.
We didn't leave the banks of Little Blue until this afternoon, Tuesday,
the twentieth, the misstatement previously mentioned arising from the
unauthenticity of the guide we took the respective distances from. The
parallel distance we made along the shores of this river must have been
about fifty to sixty miles. It is a very beautiful stream, much more
elevated in its beauty by the barrenness of the surrounding country.
Its water is, when at a medium stage, very clear and of very good
taste. On our passage up the river we got in view of several prairie
inhabitants as wolves, chickens and several miles off the river,
antelopes and single specimens of buffalo.
The weather of to-day, although it was very pleasant and favorable to
our journey, caused by its continued dryness a dearth of grass and
by this, loss in the strength of our cattle. While I am writing these
remarks a change of weather has taken place, which likely will make an
improvement in the growth of the vegetation. The health of our company
has been, since our start, in a good condition and although a number
of deaths, partly of cholera morbus and smallpox happened among the
emigrants, all of us are still enjoying our vigorous health and in
general are in a good spirited mood. The frequent change, however, from
hot days to damp cold nights is sufficient to undermine the stoutest
constitution. How, therefore, we will in future this great gift of
nature—health—preserve, is not to be fixed as a definite fact. Be it,
however, understood, that a careful observance of physiological laws
can abate diseases to a considerable extent.
May the twenty-first. We are now encamped about six miles Northwards of
the Little Blue, and although late in the day we have on account of the
rainy and stormy weather, not as yet decamped.
May the twenty-third. It is Sunday to-day and the great bright
luminary of the day is peeping over the horizon in its full splendor,
and eternal youthfulness animating the whole creation and endowing
it with new strength and vigor. The remark so frequently referred to
by Christians that the sublime beauty displayed by the sun proved
the existence of a God, was made to me last night by a Universalist.
True, the beauty is grand and sublime, but it is so without divinity
connected with it. It is not something beyond nature but a planetary
phenomenon following the great arrangements, the great and eternal
laws of Mother Nature. No reasonable man will doubt the existence of a
great incomprehensible principle which pervades throughout all nature,
but this principle is nothing separated from the universe but is the
great whole itself which can exist only all in all and not other ways
which always was, always is and always will be, although things may be
subjected to great changes.
We stopped in our camp a considerable part of the day, Orthodox
Christians objecting to our movement. Calling, however, a meeting, and
taking every single vote, the majority carried the motion for moving
onwards. Having arrived last night within three miles to Fort Kearney,
we made this distance in about an hour's time. The resemblance of
this place to the civilized world awakened in us a great feeling of
happiness thinking that although far, far off from home, out in a great
desert, still enjoyment was offered to the onward moving emigrant. The
fort consists of five frame houses, two for the use of the commanding
officers, the rest for the soldiers, all built in good style well
answering their respective purposes. Besides these buildings is a
church for the service of the Lord which is frequented by soldiers,
civilized Indians and passing emigrants. About three miles above the
fort, we lost, by the carelessness of one of the men, our pony. By
the hardest kind of running, we recovered it again. Nothing of weight
happened the next day. Having proceeded about twenty miles further up
the river we stopped for the night.
Twenty-sixth. We are now about three hundred and fifty miles off St.
Joseph, encamped along the bank of the Platte here of about one and
one-half miles width and very shallow. The river is sown with small
islands all of very modern formation. They are generally over-grown
with cottonwoods, and some of the oak kind, frequented more or less
by wild geese, crows and numerous birds of smaller kind. Just as I am
writing these lines my attention is attracted by the sublimity of the
scenery around us. The whole Western border of the horizon is grandly
beautified by the setting sun which, although out of sight, still
leaves traces of its grand and sublime beauty behind, painting the
horizon with the most various colours. It is getting darker and the far
off peaks of a mountain chain which appears to follow a parallel course
with the edges of the horizon gradually disappear. Quiet and peace is
spread all over nature's garden. Many a turbulent mind is silenced by
this beautiful phenomenon, and while yet gazing at it, is sunk in
the arms of the God of Sleep, Morpheus.
[Illustration: BIRTHPLACE OF WILLIAM C. LOBENSTINE]
May the twenty-ninth, morning at five o'clock. We have traveled
since my last notes were put down forty miles through a very barren
mountainous country, grass being very scarce and water of inferior
character, having in it dissolved some alkali substances. The second
day or May twenty-eighth, inserting first that the day before we passed
several creeks, meeting a most splendid spring at the last, we struck
the bluffs near about the forks of the river. The bluffs which I
visited this day are mainly composed of sand, likely deposited there by
the wind in latter times. The whole bottom along the Platte is mostly
sand which in dry season on account of the violent winds which prevail
here, nothing being here to break its force, is a great inconvenience
to travelers. The Platte river bottom below and above Fort Kearney up
to where the road meets with the bluffs, is very little above the level
of its waters, varying from five to fifteen feet above that, however,
till when you strike the above mentioned point, its altitude is about
twenty-five feet.
We met on the latter part of our journey numerous graves of emigrants
who had finished their course in nature's garden to adopt new form and
shape suiting a different object in nature. The deceased died mostly
of cholera and smallpox, more or less originating from an unhealthy
diet, bad water and exposure. Good care and observance of physiological
laws, however, as I previously mentioned, can considerably alleviate
the diseases, if not keep them off altogether, from which cause then, I
principally account for the good state of our health.
We are now about crossing the river (the South fork of it) the forks
of which we struck a day before this. The river runs in a Southwest
direction and is about half a mile wide and very shallow, with
quicksand in the bottom. The fordage was of no difficulty to us, the
river as first mentioned being very low, and having arrived on its
opposite side we pursued our journey in a West-Northwesterly direction
toward the Cedar Bluffs. After having the day before stopped about five
o'clock at the right of the road, where we met with fairly good grass
and water, we traveled the next day, Sunday, the thirtieth, till we
reached the point where the road strikes the Bluffs which latter point
is about twenty or twenty-five miles from where we crossed the river.
Stopped about ten o'clock and encamped to rest ourselves and our cattle
for the remainder of the day, which by the hard road and great heat of
the past week was very much required to invigorate us for the future. I
read several chapters of Byron, but my mind being nearly down to zero
on account of the excessive heat, I could not concentrate my spirits
enough to follow his violent imagination. Next morning we started
early for the Bluffs. The passage of them was very hard on our teams,
the weather being very hot and the road being all sand, our wagons cut
in very deep and therefore required the hardest pulling to get along.
We descended down the other side—a terrible steep road—having traveled
about ten miles over the hills and after proceeding ten miles further
we encamped nigh the river whirl-pool. Here was a good camping ground,
dry and pleasant.
Tuesday we started for Ashes Hollow, being about eighteen miles from
our starting place. The road led like the previous days through very
sandy regions, the parallel running bluffs offering from the sameness
of appearance in stratifications and composition very little attraction
to the passing travelers. Two miles this side Ashes Hollow, the road
ascends a very steep hill, about sixty feet above the level of the
sea, being undoubtedly the hardest hill to pass over we have met up
to this on our journey. After having got up to its highest point, the
road gradually descends into the hollow which builds with the former a
square angle. This valley is about two hundred feet wide, bordered with
rocks and fine gravel in its hollow and timbered with ash trees and
some wild roses and grapes. A cool spring, unsurpassed in its water by
any we have met yet in this territory, is to be found to the right of
the creek about a mile from where you first strike it. There we met a
kind of trading post where several articles for the remainder of the
journey for a reasonable price can be got. We passed on about two miles
further from where we left the latter and encamped for the night (June
second).
Monday, June 7th. Last week I neglected, not being at leisure in
mornings or evenings and too much downspirited at noon, to keep up my
journal with the events as I met them, but I shall try to recall in
my memory the main objects met with. For two days after we left Ashes
Hollow the roads were bad, being very hard on our cattle as well as
ourselves. We got along, however, as well as circumstances did permit
and after passing several creeks, hove on Friday last towards noon,
in sight of Courthouse Rocks, called so by emigrants from a supposed
resemblance with the building of that name, but appearing to me,
however, more like some ancient castle than the object it is compared
with. The rock is about eight miles off the road, a very deceiving
distance to the traveler who thinks it only two or three miles off.
Proceeding further, having the Courthouse to our left, and the Platte
at our right, the pinnacle of another rock got within the reach of our
eye. This is what is called a chimney rock from its great resemblance
to some factory chimneys. Although nearly twenty miles away it could
distinctly be seen. We traveled on to within about eight miles of it
and encamped to the right of the road, nigh the river bank. The next
morning we started early. Some of our company went on ahead to ascend
the rock. I stayed with the wagon, being not very well on foot, and
proceeded slowly on our journey. Chimney rock is about, from its base
to its apex, four hundred feet high, consisting of a low and second
platform. Upon the latter is the chimney or shaft of the rock nearly
one hundred feet high. This rock is principally composed of marl and
clay, intermixed with several strata of white cement. Joining the
chimney rock, right above it, I beheld a most beautiful sight, being a
section of rock of singular construction resembling in its appearance
very much some of the scenery along the Rhine. The whole consisted of
five rocks, one approaching the form of another smaller chimney and
giving with the rest a most grand view, just like an ancient fort of
the feudal barons on an average steep ascending hill, with cupola on
the top assuming the forms of ruins. Had I the talent of a Byron or
the skilled hand of a Raphael I might give an adequate idea of the
landscape, but as I am, even common language is wanting to give an
appropriate description. I thought it, however, romantic, and truly
felt more than my tongue may express. O what a pity it is to be
deficient of _Brain_!
Towards evening we arrived at a trading post, about eight miles before
the pass of Scotch Bluffs, and encamped here for the night.
Sunday, set out with a cloudy sky and rain. It soon, however, cleared
up and turned into a sunny day. We approached the Scotch Bluffs, which
we saw the evening before golden in the light of the setting sun, and
our whole attention was attracted by the grandeur of the former, still
more beautified by the surrounding country. The appearance of these
sand hills, although from far off like solid rock, has a very accurate
resemblance to a fortification or stronghold of the feudal barons of
the middle age, of which many a reminder is yet to be met with along
the bank of the Rhine. The rock itself is separated nearly at its
middle, having a pass here about fifty to sixty feet wide, ascending at
both sides perpendicular to a height of three hundred to four hundred
feet. The passage through here was only made possible in 1851 and is
now preferred by nearly all the emigrants, cutting off a piece of eight
miles from the old road. We passed through without any difficulty and
after having passed another blacksmith shop and trading post, which are
very numerous, protection being secured to them by the military down at
Fort Laramie, we encamped for the night.
We arrived at Laramie on Tuesday evening, a day sooner than we
calculated to get there. The Fort is situated on the Laramie River,
which joins with the Platte about two miles below the Fort and about
one hundred yards below the bridge for crossing of which we were
charged two hundred dollars. The country around the fort is of a
pleasing aspect. The bluffs which surround it slope off gradually down
into the valley, through which the river of the same name winds in
the most lovely curves, whose margins are timbered with a scattered
growth of cottonwood and brush of various kinds. The Fort consists of
several caserns for the subordinate soldiers, a better building for
the captain, a powder and provision magazine, a hospital open to the
broken-down travelers who wish to stop there, a good store where all
articles a man wants in civilized countries or on the plains can be
bought. The garrison disposed here is of a small number—from fifty to
one hundred and fifty, which number although small, is sufficient to
keep down any unruly spirit among the inhabitants of the soil. After
getting a few requisite articles, we started from our encampment near
the Fort for the black hills, along which the road runs on towards the
Rocky Mountains.
The scenery, after passing the Fort and proceeding a few miles up the
river, assumes quite a different aspect from that which we have passed
before the Fort. The monotony of the prairie land disappears, and a
varied highland scenery is offered to the traveler. The road leads
generally over the bluffs at an average height of about seventy to one
hundred feet above the bed of the Platte and in advancing approaches
sometimes towards the Southwestern mountain chain with the Laramie
Peak, whose summit is six thousand feet above the sea and covered with
snow throughout the greater part of the year. This mountain can be seen
at a distance of one hundred miles. We have first sight of it at the
Scotch Bluff, distant about that far from it. Cones or little craters
form the bulk of the mountain and give it a romantic appearance. The
Platte River above the Fort Laramie takes a different appearance from
its lower course. The low fertile land through which it runs for nearly
seven hundred to eight hundred miles to its mouth, is changed into a
highland scene. Its course is rapid and cut through the solid granite
rocks which must have taken many a century to open such passes and to
such an extent as we met in this part of our journey. The beauty of the
mountain chain is greatly increased by the scattered trees of cedar and
pine and by the interruption of numerous streams which are bordered
with a most beautiful growth of cottonwoods and other trees.
June twelfth. We left the river about noon and ascended for the whole
afternoon up the highest bluffs on our advance. We got considerably
molested by the wind which blew right in our faces and darkened them
with sand. Meeting a spring up near the highest point of ascent we
stopped for the night. Next morning started for the descent. The
Blackhill road comes in from where the road commences taking down to
the bottom. We passed the LePonds River, at the foot of the bluffs, a
very nice stream, beautifully treed with cottonwood. About four miles
forwards on the road we passed another creek called by its red bank,
Red Bank. The whole country around is a red stratified rock of the same
kind—being iron ore.
June fourteenth. We drove about ten miles to-day, passed several new
graves, and crossed three small creeks. Toward evening we encamped
two miles up the Little Deer Creek to rest our cattle, as well as
ourselves, and prepare for ascending the Rocky Mountains. I read
several pages of geology treating of the different classes of rocks,
their respective composition, position and the circumstances under
which the process of protrusion and stratification took place.
The fifteenth. Some of our men killed various kinds of game on the
bluffs with which we quite prepared us a feast adequate to all luxuries
we ever had at home.
June the sixteenth. We took a new start this morning for the future of
our journey. Leaving Little Deer Creek, we struck, after having met
with the main road, the river, along the banks of which we passed all
day and towards evening encamped within reach of it. We passed Big
Deer Creek about noon; the country around, although the stream is of
quiet romantic beauty, is very barren, offering but little pasture to
the emigrants' teams.
June the seventeenth. This morning we started for the ferry,
twenty-seven miles above Big Deer Creek. We arrived at the river about
noon and got across again three or four o'clock in the afternoon, where
we left the other side for the bluffs and encamped about four miles
onwards on the road from the Platte. The ferry at this place is carried
on with flat boats which are fastened to ropes spread across the river.
The current carries them from one shore to the other. The following day
we started very early in the morning, ascended Rattlesnake Hills, very
rocky, and pursued our journey this day through an extremely barren
section of country, the soil being mainly sand without any good water
and grass. At Willow Springs twenty-six miles above the Platte ferry we
arrived towards evening and put up for the night.
Not having any grass at all we started very early next morning
intending to stop wherever any pasture could be found. Meeting the
object of our wishes, we grazed the cattle for several hours. Ponds
with alkali water being about, several of our cattle got to drink,
and shortly after our start, several got to be very sick, the alkali
beginning to operate. We gave some of them fat bacon and some vinegar
to neutralize the alkali, which had the best wished effects.
The country passed over to-day is very sandy and dry, offering nothing
hardly to the passing emigrants. The hills which range along this part
are called Blue Hills, probably from the growth of pines with which
they are planted.
Sunday, June the twentieth. Proceeding onwards, we came to the
Indian Dance Rock, called so by Colonel Fremont in 1847. This rock
is a huge pile of granite about half a mile in circumference and one
hundred-fifty feet high. Its sides are decorated with numerous names
of emigrants who passed them since '49. The road leads to the left of
the rock along the river and crosses it about one and one-half miles
from the said rock. Five miles onwards, passing over a very sandy road,
we arrived at Devil's Gate, a precipice between the perpendicular
walls of which the Sweetwater passed. This is undoubtedly the most
interesting sight to the attentive traveler, made so by the profound
deepness of the pass and the stratæ of ancient rocks laid open to the
view of the naturalist. The rocks here are piled up in a strange chaos,
consisting of primary (hypogene) rocks turned up on their edges in a
nearly perpendicular position, intermixed with others in a horizontal
and vertical position. The descent of this rock is, on account of its
steepness, very difficult and connected with considerable danger. Too
great precaution can't be taken by explorers. The river undergoes
a fall of nearly ten or twelve feet, the water running very rapidly
in its onward bound course. The road from here leads more or less
along the river for twenty-five miles, where it separates in two, one
crossing the river and the other takes over the bluffs. This latter
road is extremely sandy and as heavy a pull for cattle as any part of
the road we have passed. Teams that have not been taken proper care of,
generally are lessened here by several of them breaking down by fatigue
and feebleness.
Traveling onwards we struck the river and passed along it for two miles
where we ascended the bluffs again. Viewing the surrounding country,
we discovered on the edges of the horizon a very large snow clad
mountain, its summit nearly hid in the clouds, and its sides shining in
a bedazzling luster.
June the twenty-third. Rain setting in through the night, we were
obliged to take a very early start. The alkali, with which the ground
was covered, being dissolved by the water, might, if drunk by the
cattle, have some very serious effect. Passing the bluffs, nothing
of note happened, and after fourteen miles traveling, we arrived at
the river banks, where we stopped to feed our cattle and took our own
repast. Pasture being very gloomy here, we left for our afternoon's
journey. After crossing the river we ascended a very steep hill, very
stony and barren ground, the road leading down towards the river, where
it turns at nearly a square angle, and ascends another very steep hill.
The descent here is very rapid and slopes off into the Sweetwater
Valley. Pursuing our course upwards, we met with some good pasture
where we stopped and encamped for the night.
June the twenty-fifth. Having enjoyed a good night's rest and taken
a good repast, we started with our cattle pretty well filled for
the bluffs. This mountain, or rather tableland, about three to four
hundred feet above the level of the river or six to seven thousand
feet above the level of the sea, is principally composed of aqueous
rocks of tertiary formation, sand and gravel, which are turned up here
in vertical position, the upturned edges giving evidence of volcanic
action. The road over this rock, of course, is very stony and hard,
difficult to pass over for the cattle. We struck a branch of the
Sweetwater this side the bluffs, about fifteen miles from where we
ascended them. The weather to-day is very unpleasant, heavy and cold
showers drenching us several times. Meeting with no grass up to our
usual stopping time, we drove on till late trying to make the river,
where we expected to meet with some good pasture. At our arrival
there we found the prospects as poor as previously met with. Stopped,
however, and the next morning crossed for the last time the Sweetwater.
The weather to-day, although the road led us through hills covered
with snow, was fair and warm, and the contrast or change it was from
yesterday, made the travelers the more sensitive to it. We arrived at
the South pass about noon and stopped to take dinner at the Pacific
Springs. The pass goes through the mountain gradually so that when
the traveler arrives at this point he hardly feels satisfied with the
reality. The country along here is extremely poor. No grass, and even
good water is scarce. The road ascends again this side the springs,
and continues hilly for about eighteen miles, when it separates in
two branches, the Mormon road going off in a South, Southwest, the
California road in a nearly due West direction. Our wagons arriving at
the fork, struck without any previous consultation with the company,
the Mormon road. Proceeding onwards we forded the Little Sandy, nine
miles off the fork and eight and one-half miles further onwards the
Big Sandy—both pleasant streams with a lovely growth of willows and
cottonwood. We encamped this side the bank of the latter stream where
there was good pasture for our cattle and all necessaries for our own
comfort.
June twenty-sixth. This day being Sunday and one man in our company
being sick and in rather poor condition to travel, we stayed all day
and recruited ourselves and our oxen. Nothing happened throughout the
day except that several of the Snake Indians caught squirrels about
our neighborhood and paid us a short visit. Towards evening, read
several passages out of the Bible and argued about the vulgar sentiment
and language used in many places.
Monday morning, started stout and hearty on our journey and have just
arrived again after passing over about eighteen miles of highland to
the Big Sandy. There we strike this stream for the last time and are
making now for Green River, ten miles further onwards. About five
miles from our starting point the road forks. The upper road is called
Kiney's cut off and joins with Sapplett's cut off. The lower branch
strikes the Green River, which is on account of its extreme swiftness
very hard to cross. The fording of this river is, by a good ferry
carried on by Mormons, very much facilitated. Emigrants crossing here
at the beginning of the California emigration had a great deal of
trouble to get their stock across—numbers of them lost their lives and
stock both.
Green River leads into the Rocky Mountains and numerous tributaries are
flowing into it on its Southwesterly course where it pours its waters
into the Colorado. The river is about one hundred and fifty yards wide
and considerably deep; its water is very cold from its snowy origin and
runs at the rate of five to eight miles an hour. We forded the river
on the morning of the twenty-ninth and followed down along its banks
for eight miles in a Southeastern direction. Took then the bluffs and
traveled on Southwards for about five miles where we encamped near a
branch of the river with plenty of grass. Although snow clad mountains
bordered the horizon in the South the weather was extremely warm and
what made it still more burdensome were the myriads of mosquitoes which
molested us very much, yes extremely so.
Next morning we traveled onwards five miles from our last camping
ground and crossed a branch of the Green River, on the other side of
which we took the bluffs, descending several times into valleys where
the river pursued his ocean-bound course. After striking the river the
last time about ten miles from where we passed the branch we ascended
again and traveled on in a Southwest direction. Meeting a small stream
of water here about five miles distant from where we left the river, we
encamped for the night.
July first. Left this encampment after having put in a horrible night
with mosquitoes, bound for Fort Bridger, twenty miles from this spot.
The road along this distance is hilly and stony, pasture and water
scarce, scenery poor up to where we have sight of the Fort which is
located in a beautiful valley and named for this reason the Garden of
the Mountains. From here the road gradually ascends a ridge and on
the latter, about five miles this side the Fort, we encamped for the
night. Cedar trees growing spontaneously here, we had plenty wood for
cooking use and good pasture for the cattle.
The road from now covers very hilly country over high ridges and deep
valleys with very steep ascents and descents, therefore very hard for
our teams. Proceeding onwards we met some most lovely and beautiful
sights of natural beauty and but the hum of rural life would be
necessary to make it a second Eden. To give an adequate idea of the
beauty of this country none but a Byron or some other passionate writer
can do. I, however, add that the high going sea appears to have the
most resemblance to this interrupted bottom. The soil which covers
the most of these mountains is very spontaneous (fertile), the most
so in the bottoms. The mountains themselves are a deposit of water,
the greatest number of them lately by their abrupt form and to my
view are gravity rocks, cemented together by some binding matter. The
formations of many of these rocks offer quite a picturesque view as we
pass by. Caves and tunnels of all shapes are carved into them by the
dissolving power of water. Towards noon to-day after having passed many
ups and downs, we arrived at the highest point between the States and
Salt Lake. The height of this ridge is seven thousand, seven hundred
feet above the level of the sea and is the dividing ridge between
the Colorado and the water of the great basin. From this point on we
descended more or less and having arrived in the valley we traveled on
about sixteen miles to the Sulphur Springs where we encamped for the
night.
Next day our road continued over the same interrupted ground. About
two miles from our last camp forwards on the road we arrived at Bear
River which we crossed with some difficulty and went on to Echo Creek
meeting on our road some Indians who traded us venison for powder and
beads. Here we stopped for the night and after we got our breakfast
next morning, July the fourth, we followed the river down twenty
miles, crossing it seventeen times in this distance. This valley along
which the road leads is very narrow bordered on both sides with high
mountains of gravelly composition closely cemented together. The valley
runs in a nearly Southern direction and runs on to where Echo Creek
joins the Webber River, a stream about the size of Bear River. We
crossed the river Sunday towards evening and went onwards several miles
of nearly steady descent from the top of a hill which we had previously
ascended to a creek along which we traveled about twelve miles crossing
it thirteen times—crossings very bad. After we had the last crossing we
commenced to climb a very difficult ascent. At the top of the latter,
four miles from the base to the high point, the road leads down hill
again. Echo Creek which heads on this side of the mountains runs on
to the city. The road leads alongside of it, crossing it some twenty
times. We traveled on till three o'clock when we struck the foot of a
mountain three miles this side of town and encamped for the night.
The Salt Lake Valley is built by high mountains whose summits reach
into the clouds, forming with its craggy sides a picturesque and,
joined with the beauty of the valley, a lovely scene. The valley is
thirty miles wide and some seventy-five to one hundred miles long.
Within its mountainous enclosure it contains some of the most fertile
and beautiful country ever looked on by men. The Salt Lake which
stretches along the Valley on the North side helps to beautify the
scene. Beside this is the town itself which is laid out in practical
lots consisting in a house and garden lot, the latter for agricultural
purposes. The houses, about one thousand in number, are built of mud,
dried in the sun and are in every way like the houses in the States.
The people to the number of about six thousand living in the city and
about four thousand in different counties of the valley are Mormons.
Although their creed contains a great many foolish things, they have
in some of their social arrangements the advantage over us and the
traveler passing through Salt Lake Valley and seeing everything working
harmoniously together as nature itself cannot help but think them,
more so, if he looks upon the crops which nature spontaneously produces
here, a happy and nearly independent people. One of the precepts of
their faith, Polygamy, although generally used as a reproach to them, I
personally admit as a true natural one, being consistent with nature.
Having supplied ourselves with a few more necessaries for the remainder
of the trip and some little repairing done to our teams, we left the
city intending to stop at some good pasture place in the valley. On the
road which runs on along through town towards the North we met with
the Hot Spring at the left of the road. This Spring comes out of the
surrounding mountains, being of nearly boiling heat and containing in
it diluted a high percentage of sulphur.
The weather to-day is very hot and oppressive, being the more
burdensome on account of my not being well, having previously been
weakened by sickness. Eight miles from here, to the left we espied good
grass and a stream of water, where we encamped and stopped there for
the next two days. While lying here I took sick again, being a relapse
of my former illness of dysentery. In applying though some of Dr.
Dickson's pills and some other strong mixture besides this, I stopped
it and I am fully convinced to-day that by paying a little precaution
to diet I shall get well and strong again.
We left our camp on Saturday, the tenth day of July, traveling along
a high mountain range through the valley for about sixteen miles,
crossing in this distance several small creeks bordered with willows
and aspens. A great part of the country is well cultivated and loaded
with a heavy crop of wheat, some corn and luxurious meadows, the
latter rivalling any I ever saw before in any country. This evening we
encamped at a small streamlet about twenty-five miles from the city.
Grass very scarce, all other things however easy to be got. From houses
being about here, we had plenty of milk and butter.
Sunday the eleventh. Started late, many of the company having not got
used to our former speedy proceeding yet. Drove over some sandy roads
through desert country to the Webber river, which we had crossed just a
week ago in its upper course. The river being in a low state, we forded
it ourselves without any difficulty and stopped three miles on the
other side of it, where we caught up with a wagon of our company that
had left us at the city.
Monday, July the twelfth. This morning the road led through brush and
high grass onto a second bank along which we travelled the whole day,
passing numerous farms on the lower side of the road and crossing
several creeks in the latter part of the day. To the right of the
road runs a mountain chain about one thousand to one thousand five
hundred feet above the level of the lake, its sides as well as summit
ornamented with a lovely growth of cedars and some of its crevices
filled with snow. This evening we struck camp three miles this side of
Grazing Creek where we laid till next morning to proceed no further on
our journey.
This day, the road crossed several creeks, the first, Grazing, and five
miles onward from this, Box Elder—further on, several small creeks and
springs so that we had abundance of water all day. At Box Elder, we
left the settlement, and pursued our course again on the Desert where
our former contest with hardships and privations began from now on for
the remaining journey. We traveled to-day twenty miles from Willow
Creek and encamped at a Spring five miles this side of Bear River. This
stream we crossed next day early in the morning paying four hundred
dollars ferriage and proceeded onwards. From here we had as hard times
as we ever saw on the plains arising from our want of good water for
thirty-six miles which latter circumstance with the extreme heat was
very hard on us and the cattle. We arrived at the end of the above
mentioned distance about noon the next day at Hensols Spring where we
stopped and refreshed ourselves with some good cold water. The road
along this distance leads over a very hilly and dry country which
on this latter account disappoints the choking emigrant extremely,
expecting at every roll to have in sight some fountain to revive the
exhausted energies.
Six miles further we struck Deep Creek, running on the North side
of the valley until where the road strikes the valley, where it
turns toward the South and about six miles downward it sinks in the
ground. At this place, called Deep Creek Sink we arrived next day and
our cattle being worked down and their feet being sore, the company
again decided to stay here and rest them as well as recruit ourselves
somewhat.
July sixteenth. We left our last encampment at the sink and proceeded
downwards for the Pilot Springs where we intended to water the cattle.
The country begins here to get poorer, pasture becoming extremely
scarce now, hardly to be found on creeks and around slews and then only
a good way up or down stream.
Seventeen miles from Deep Creek Sink at some Springs in the side of a
hill we met with good pasture and although still early in the day, we
stopped there and lay till morning. Cedar trees and sage bushes are
all the vegetation to be seen in this region and the journey on this
account is monotonous and tiresome. The road from here takes over a
hill from which can be seen for the last time the Salt Lake with its
blue waters and its mountain high islands which with the surrounding
hills offers quite a picturesque view to the observer.
About eight miles from Mountain Springs onwards we came to Stony Creek,
a mountain stream whose water is more or less made up of melted snow
and ice and is very cold, therefore very much relished by travelers.
From Stony Creek to the Casus Creek, distant about eight miles, the
country continues very poor having nothing but wild sage and cedars on
the bluffs. Casus Creek is a small stream bordered like all the creeks
in this country with willows, the latter from the thick bunches in
which they stand, a hiding place to the Indians. Pasture along this
Creek is plenty, therefore good camping here. The road follows up the
Creek about eight miles and crosses it in this distance three times,
the middle ford being considerable miry when we passed.
Leaving Casus Creek the road ascends gradually towards a high situated
point about five miles, where it joins with the cut off roads, three
hundred and seventy miles West from the forks of the main road.
Coming up towards the summit of the hill we hove in sight of the City
Rocks, being numerous rocks of all sizes and shapes piled up so on the
slope of a mountain towards North West which resembled in appearance
a city at a distance built on the side of a hill. From here the road
descends down into a valley about five or six miles long with several
small creeks which were, however, dry when we passed them. Ascending
the hills on the West side of the valley we met with some water to the
left, running down parallel with the road, and traveling on a mile
further struck its head, consisting of several good cold springs. Next
morning we started on our road which on account of many sliding rocks
was very difficult and extremely hard on cattle. These hills are called
Gooth Creek Mountains, running along a stream called the same name.
Their forms and shapes are very various and mostly composed of aqueous
rocks in parallel stratas. Five miles traveling over this interrupted
ground brought us into the Gooth Creek Valley which we followed up
eighteen miles—the roads good and grass plenty. The valley along the
upper course of the Gooth Creek narrows; the mountains forming the
valley are steep and composed of some granular gravel. Small sharp
edged rocks are scattered all along the road and are very hard on
cattles' feet.
At the head of Gooth Creek we met a good spring coming out from under
the rocks. The water is cold and the weather being very hot we relished
it very much. From here the road leaves the Gooth Creek Valley and
continues over a mountainous, rocky and very barren country to the Rock
Spring Valley. At the head of it to the right are several cold springs
coming like the one spring at the head of Gooth Creek from under a
rocky ledge. Grass around this spring is little or none. Following the
road, however, for about four miles further, grass became plentiful
and more so toward the head of the valley. Crossing several ridges, we
descended into Thousand Spring Valley, so called in consequence of the
numerous Springs some of very high temperature; others are mere cold
wells of considerable depth. The road leads here along the valley ten
miles and pasture was real good.
July the twenty-fourth. Friend and companion Logan died this morning
at five o'clock. Logan, a partner in our team, took sick very suddenly
about noon this day about two miles this side Hot Springs. Driving
on some few miles after noon, the disease came on in a very serious
manner so that we were obliged to stop and camp. His strength failed
rapidly and cramps in all his parts caused him very aggravating pains.
Getting worse and worse and medical help having no effect on him we
finally concluded that although unsuspected and however sudden he would
go home to his Father. Living on till sunrise next day, he died about
five o'clock in the morning after a sickness of seventeen hours. This
then is human life—to live, to eat, to propagate and die. We, from this
eventful place which we left after interring the deceased, proceeded
over a long ridge which, sloping upon the other side and ascending
again, gradually descended, taking us a stretch of twenty miles into
the Humbolt Valley, the mountains of the same name being in view
covered with the everlasting snows. We followed down the valley about
eighteen miles and camped on the North Branch of Mary's River about
three miles from where we forded it.
July twenty-sixth. The road from the ford of the North Branch runs
along a beautiful valley to where it joins the South Fork of Mary's
River, twenty miles below the above mentioned point. Grass along this
valley is more plentiful than any other place we found along the whole
route. The water, although not very cool, is good. From the junction of
the two forks, another valley commences, the river following it down
for twenty-eight miles. At this point the road leaves the river for the
bluffs after having previously come to the forks of the road, crossed
the river four times within six miles and followed it down about ten
miles further to a small tributary of Mary's River.
From here when we started early next morning, we had to travel over a
section of mountains pretty steep and stony. Descending on the other
side of these hills we met with several good springs on the road side
and finally after a tedious forenoon's drive we struck the river again
twenty miles from where we left it last. The roads along here being
very sandy and so many teams passing ours it raises any amount of dust
which is very disagreeable to emigrants and hard on cattle. We followed
the river for four miles when, finding good grass, we camped for the
night. Twenty miles further down stream the main road takes to the
right over the bluffs, another road crosses the river and follows down
on the South side. The latter road is preferred in low water, being the
best and shortest as well as having most grass on this side of Humbolt.
About forty miles onwards where we forded the stream it—the road—takes
up over a rough hill leaving the river at the ascent and coming to it
again at the descent, about two miles distant.
August the second. From this point the road takes over a hill about
five miles long when it descends into the valley again. Pasture along
here is poor, the bottom being mostly over-grown with sage. Although
grass is scarce, for the whole journey the careful emigrants can always
find sufficient feed for their cattle.
The road follows down the valley in a parallel direction with the river
for about twenty miles where it turns on an obtuse angle and runs off
in a Southwest direction. Here the road takes over low sandy hills
and along the banks of the river alternately. Twenty miles from our
starting point, we encamped on the river banks.
August the fifth. Ascended a hill about one-half mile on from our camp,
pretty steep and sandy. The road continues this way all along for
about twenty miles more where it takes the bluffs for eighteen miles
through a sandy desert about three or four miles parallel with the
river. In the evening after a hard day's drive, we struck the river but
did not meet with any grass which our starved animals badly needed. The
following day we ascended the bluffs again for another eighteen miles
desert having no grass nor water for the teams. Leaving, however, the
main road and taking towards the river we got near enough to water our
cattle, after which we drove on about four miles further and struck the
river again finding tolerable good grass. Next day we started for the
meadows and sink of Humbolt River. The distance to the former being
about fifteen miles, roads bad, both sandy and hilly, no grass between,
river handy enough in some places to water the stock.
Saturday evening we arrived at the meadows, our teams weakened from
want of grass and several days' hard pulling. From here to the edge of
the desert it is about twenty-five miles which we made in three days,
recruiting our stock, making grass and taking on water.
Thursday afternoon, about three o'clock, we started with seven head of
cattle and one horse, all of them in fair condition, for the desert—a
distance of forty miles without water and grass, hilly and sandy roads.
Thousands of dead cattle were lying along this road which had gone out
at the previous emigration. One of our oxen gave out, detaining us for
several hours. Slaying the latter however, we arrived safe although a
very close call at Carson River. Here people from California have put
up their shops, having liquor and fixtures for sale for the emigrants
at high prices. Grass being scarce here we started up the river about
five miles. Being about camping time and our cattle very tired we
stopped for the night.
From here we started the next morning having about five miles ahead a
desert of thirteen miles. Before we started into the latter, we stopped
and fed the teams for a few hours, then started on the said desert and
the footers, among which I was, traveled up along the river, being
higher and more pleasant than the main road. At the point where the
latter strikes the river again we found good company which induced us
to stop for the night, grass for our stock being plenty. From here the
road takes over the bluffs, being sandy again as the day before and the
country as poor as the deserts. Twelve miles' traveling took us to the
river where we stopped and nooned. From here the road gets to be stony
and sidling, hard on wagons and teams, leading over undulating ground
all along. About twenty-five miles further ahead the road takes over a
hill, a perfect desert. To the left of this is mining carried on in a
Canyon. Although it does not pay as well as some mines in California,
still it allows fair wages to the diggers. Some of us, among them
myself, would have stopped and dug here but for certain bondages which
we could not get rid of without injuring our pecuniary interest.
The distance here from the river to it again is thirteen miles, roads
tolerably good. In the afternoon of this day (Sunday) we traveled over
another sandy plain to the river, eight miles, where we camped over
night and started Monday morning all hearty and well. During the day's
travel we passed a good many trading posts, crossing numerous mountain
streams with good cold water. Grass along here is plenty so that stock
as well as men do well in this valley. Another day's travel will take
us to the foot of the Canyon which we ascend to take us to Hope Valley.
To-day at noon we arrived within a few miles of the Canyon where we
stopped for noon. Leaving this place we intend to ascend the ravine in
the afternoon.
We took into the Canyon on the morning of the eighteenth and ascending
it we met the worst road on the whole route being both rocky and steep
and extremely hard on cattle and wagons. The whole Canyon is sown with
rocks (metamorphic species) thrown there in chaos by volcanic eruption
and offers to the travelers with its steep pine clad mountains one of
those grand scenes of nature which are only met with in mountainous
or volcanic countries. Five or eight miles of the hardest traveling
brought us into Hope Valley at the other side of the Canyon which we
followed up to where the road takes the hills again and finding at this
point some excellent pasture we encamped.
We left our last night's camp where we suffered considerably by the
cold and started to ascend the first of the mountains of the Nevada.
The ascent is gradual for several miles till the road comes to red
rock where it takes a sudden ascent for about one-half mile being
very steep and rocky and undoubtedly constitutes with the yesterday's
passed Canyon the greater part of the elephant which will be finished
tomorrow by the steepest and highest ascent of the Sierra Nevada. Up
this mountain we doubled teams and our wagons being light we arrived
safely at the summit about seven thousand feet above the level of the
sea. Grass being scarce here we descended about four miles on the other
side of the mountain into a valley where we found some good feed along
the lake shore.
August twentieth. Started for the ascent of the last and highest
mountain of the Sierra Nevada, taking first over a mountain of five
hundred to one thousand feet in height which brought us to the foot
of the last mountain, we began our ascent, but though it was very
stony and high, we had less difficulty in passing over it than the
one we ascended the day before. I myself arrived at the summit about
ten o'clock where I disposed of our horse which had caused me a good
deal of trouble. This done I took a view of the country around me. I
always fancied to myself that the beauties of the mountainous countries
were grand and sublime but never could I fully imagine such a vast and
chaotic beautiful scene as I found here. The whole mountains are made
up of metamorphic rocks, thrown here by volcanic causes. The mountains
which extend around you, standing at the summit to the edge of the
horizon are interrupted by alpine valleys filled with beautiful meadows
and lakes of cold mountain water which help to make the grand scene of
the mountains lovely and rural to the observer.
We passed over the summit and drove on this day over mountain ridges
and encamped at night at about the same level as we traveled over in
the afternoon, finding some grass and water on the mountain side.
The following day took up the fork of the road, the one to the right
taking to Hangtown, the left hand one to Volcano. The distance from the
fork to the latter place is about thirty-five miles, very hilly and
extremely dusty, grass and water scarce—from ten to twenty miles apart
in the valleys.
We arrived at Volcano August twenty-third and sold our stock the next
day for the sum of three hundred dollars, making my share with our
previous receipt for horse and one yoke of cattle, eighty-seven dollars
and subtracting this from the whole of my expense leaves me ninety
dollars debit to the journey.
At Volcano is the first mining district met this side the Nevada and
provisions being tolerable cheap and some of the digging middling
favourable some five of us concluded to stay here a while and try our
luck.
Sunday, August twenty-ninth. We went to work the second day from our
arrival and sunk a shaft from ten to twelve feet deep at which depth
we struck a lead paying us about eight to ten cents to the ton. Water
which we happened to strike got to be very troublesome, keeping us back
considerably in our proceeding to get out the pay dirt for washing.
All we earned up to the present is about four dollars. We calculate
however to make more next week if we keep on at work steady and keep
our health.[1]