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.