Remarks of the writer relative to his Journal en route to Oregon—The
Journal.
As I had at one time thought of making a separate history of my every
day’s travels from St. Josephs to Oregon city, in pamphlet form, in
order to benefit those who might desire to have a knowledge of the route
and its several distances from place to place, at little cost, I
determined to keep as accurate an account of the distances I traveld
every day, together with such remarks in a condensed form as might be
deemd necessary to guide the traveler to Oregon, as the circumstances of
the case would admit. I therefore commencd my reckoning of distances
from day to day by the rotation of a wagon-wheel, at St. Josephs, and
kept it up unceasingly till I arrivd at Oregon city. But finding this
mode of writing somewhat inconvenient, and thinking, likewise, that the
history of my travels might not be altogether uninteresting, although at
somewhat more cost, I have concluded to insert them in this place with
my journal of travels and such incidents as may occur in my absence from
home.
* * * * * * * *
On the 25th of April, 1848, I crossd the Missouri river at St Josephs
into the Indian territory, with several wagons of emigrants, who
intended to travel out a short distance and organize for the route. This
day we have traveld as far as the bluffs of the river, a distance of 5
miles, and encampd for the night.—The next day we pursued our journey as
far as Musketoe creek, a distance of 8 miles, where we encampd. Next
day, Friday, 27th, we organizd into a company of 15 or 20 wagons, with
such regulations as we deemd necessary for our safety through the Indian
country, and tarried there for the night.
_Saturday, April 28_, we proceeded on our journey a distance of 12
miles, to the Ioway Mission Boarding-School.
25
_The 29th and 30th of April_, we tarried at the mission.
_Monday, May 1_, we traveld 15 miles.
_Tuesday, May 2_—20 miles.
_Wednesday, May 3_—15 miles, to Nemahaw creek.
_Thursday, May 4_, we staid at the same place.
_Friday, May 5_—13 miles over a very crooked road.
_Saturday, May 6_—20 miles.
108
_Sunday, May 7_—14 miles to camp, 4 miles to Blue creek, and 10 more to
camp.
_Monday, May 8_—20 miles to Wyatt, fork of Blue.
_Tuesday, 9th_—14 miles to Walnut creek, or Sandy.
_Wednesday, 10th_—18 miles, at Little Fork of L. Sandy.
174
_Thursday, 11th_—11 miles, at Blue creek.
_Friday, 12th_—12 miles, yet at Blue.
_Saturday, 13th_—9 miles, still on Blue creek.
206
_Sunday, 14th_—10 miles. Here on Blue our company killd a buffalo, for
the first.
_Monday, 15th_—12 miles to camp on a small fork of Blue. Feed has not
yet been sufficient to give our cattle a full supply. At this place a
few wagons, which had been traveling behind us, came up and joind our
party, making in all about thirty wagons.
_Tuesday, 16th_—28 miles to camp. Twenty brought us to Platt river, and
8 more to camp on banks of Platt river.
256
_Wednesday, 17th_—22 miles up the south side of Platt.
_Thursday, 18th_—15 miles to City du Chien, at Plumb creek. Here is the
first saline appearance we saw on the ground.
_Friday, 19th_—Staid at the same place.
293
_Saturday, 20th_—18 miles to camp on Platt river. Wood and pasturage
scarce.
_Sunday, 21st_—25 miles. Little grass.
_Monday, 22d_—25 miles along under the bluffs of the river to camp. No
wood here, except a few willows, for cooking. It raind all this day, and
all the night following.
361
_Tuesday, 23d_—The severe storm of the previous night drove our cattle a
considerable distance to the bluffs, by which means we did not get them
all till three o’clock. We traveld only two miles to-day.
_Wednesday, 24th_—12 miles to the crossing of South Fork of Platt. The
confluence of the two streams is about 18 miles below the crossing. The
intermediate high ridge begins about two miles below the crossing, where
probably was once their confluence. This fork at this place is about
half a mile wide, and the quicksands gave way so rapidly under our
cattle’s feet, that we found it necessary to travel quickly over it, for
fear of sinking deeply into it. By my reckoning here, the distance from
St. Josephs to the crossing is 375 miles. After we crossd the river, we
traveld five miles up the north side of the river and encampd for the
night without any wood for cooking our food, except a few small willows.
380
_Thursday, 25th_—18 miles to camp, one mile and a half west of where the
bluffs come to the river.
_Friday, 26th_—22 miles to camp, one mile and a half west of where the
old road crosses over to the North Fork of Platt. Grass good, the best
we have had. No wood.
420
_Saturday, 27th_—22 miles to camp on the North Fork of Platt river.
Eighteen miles of the route was over a beautifully undulating prairie.
Rest of the way, about two miles down into Ash Hollow, to North Platt,
rugged, and even dangerous for wagons to pass. Four miles up the river
brought us to camp, where we had no wood except what we carried from Ash
Hollow.
442
_Sunday, 28th_—11 miles up Platt river, over a sandy road, and passd a
village of Sioux Indians.
453
_Monday, 29th_—17 miles to-day. Sandy road, no wood. Burnt buffalo
excrement for cooking.
_Tuesday, 30th_—13 miles to camp on Platt. Six miles south of this camp
stands Babel towr. It is a precipitous bluff of clay, containing lime
enough to give some degree of hardness to it, 600 feet above the bed of
the creek that passes near its base on the south side of it. Near to
this stands another, nearly equal in hight, but inferior in size.
_Wednesday, 31st_—21 miles to camp on Platt. 14 to Chimney rock, and 7
more to camp. Chimney rock is of the same material as Babel towr, and is
fast crumbling down.
504
_June 1st_—34 miles to camp on Horse-Shoe creek, 8 miles to where the
road leaves the river and passes into Romantic valley, where the bluffs
on the sides of the valley resemble distant cities. At the west end of
this valley, the bluffs are calld Scot’s bluffs, from the circumstance
of a man’s having died there by that name. At this place is a spring
where emigrants may camp, though the grass is not very abundant. At this
place we noond, and passd over the bluffs onward, having a good road to
Horse creek, where we campd for the night. From Scot’s bluffs, Larimie
peak is first seen.
538
_2d_—15 miles through sand-hills a considerable part of the way, near to
Platt, where little grass grows, except wild wormwood and prickly pear.
Encampd with plenty of wood for fuel.
_3d_—17 miles, most of the way over a good road, to camp, 1 mile west of
Fort Larimie, on Larimie’s fork of Platt river.
570
_4th, 5th and 6th_—Staid at the same place, and shod several oxen, which
had become lame by traveling. However, as the road some of the way after
that, provd worse than any we had passd, and our oxen not becoming lame
by traveling over it, we concluded that their lameness must be
attributed in part to the alkali over which they so frequently passd.
The fort has a blacksmith shop and some few tools, for the use of which
our company paid 7½ dollars for one day and a half.
_7th_—Left Larimie fork about noon, and passd over the bluffs 2 miles to
Platt river. From thence we passd on about 4 miles farther and encampd,
with plenty of flood wood, of yellow pine and cedar. During the night,
it was so cold as to produce ice in our cooking vessels. About 4 miles
farther on, is Black Hills Gap, where the river passes through high,
precipitous rocks. At this place, also, the Black hills commence.
_June 8th_—22 miles through the Black hills. Encampd at a spring of the
best water west of St. Josephs, near to Platt. Feed very scarce.
_9th_—20 miles, over a tolerably good road. The waysides are bordered
with wild sage. Occasionally we saw the river Encampd on it at night,
with but little grass for our cattle. This night, the weather was not
very cold.
_10th_—17 miles. Left Platt early in the morning, and pursued our way
through the Black hills, nearly all the forenoon, in a southerly
direction towards Larimie peak. Road to-day quite smooth. The country
around is almost destitute of vegetation, except the wild sage. Encampd
on Big Timber creek.
635
_11th_—18 miles through the Black hills. Road tolerably good most of the
way. Encampd on Mike’s Head creek. Have not seen Platt to-day. Before
noon we lost sight of Larimie peak, among the hills.
_12th_—16 miles to camp on Deer creek, near to Platt. Twelve miles
brought us to Platt, and 4 more to our camp. At this place we had a
plenty of wood, good water and grass for our stock. About noon, we left
the Black hills on the north. South of us they are seen stretching along
towards the south-west, gradually receding from us.
669
_13th_—16 miles. Encampd on Platt with plenty of wood. Feed scarce. The
wood through this part of the route is cottonwood, and found only
bordering the stream.
_14th_—Staid at the same place, on account of its being exceedingly
windy.
_15th_—5 miles to Platt crossing.
690
At this place the river is about 40 rods wide, and has considerable
current. The Mormons from Salt Lake had arrivd a few days previous, and
prepard a raft for crossing.
_16th_—Crossd the Platt, traveld up the north side of it 2 miles, and
encampd.
_17th_—30 miles. Encampd 3 miles east of the Willow spring. About 3
miles east of camp is a spring or two, the alkaline properties of which
are strong enough in dry seasons to kill cattle, if allowd to drink
freely. I was informd that the Mormons the last year lost more than 50
cattle at this place, by drinking the water of these springs. Five miles
of the morning route was along the Platt, to a place calld Red Butes,
from their being tingd with iron ore, as are many others through the
Black Hill country. At these butes the Black hills terminate, and the
road leaves the Platt and passes over to Sweet Water river.
_18th_—7 miles over a hilly though smooth road to camp, at a small clear
spring, though somewhat saline. No wood, burnt buffalo excrement.
729
_19th_—18 miles, 14 to Sweet Water river, 2 miles to Independence rock,
and 2 farther to camp. Grass and water, no wood. To-day over a level but
mostly sandy road. The country before us and on our left, at a distance,
while traveling along, appeard more serrated, but on advancing, the
illusion vanishes, and the hills mostly appear only isolated granite
rocks of moderate hight, with large intervening valleys.
747
_20th_—14 miles to camp on Sweet Water river. Grass, no wood. After
traveling 2 miles in the morning, we came to a kanion, where the river
passes through a precipitous ledge of rocks, 300 feet high. The water at
this place falls over the ragged rocks, which at some distant time had
fallen into the stream from above and formd a cascade. To-day, on our
left traverses the Sweet Water range of mountains, whilst on our right
are ranges of less hight, divided occasionally by intervening valleys.
_21st_—Staid at the same place.
761
_22d_—12 miles over a sandy road to camp on Sweet Water. Good grass, no
wood. Frost and ice during the night.
_23d_—14 miles over a sandy road. Grass, no wood. About 3 o’clock, came
in full view of the Rocky mountains. Ice formd in our cooking vessels
during the night.
787
_24th_—17 miles over an uneven, sandy road, to camp, on the Sweet Water
river. Here the country is a barren waste, except along the river, where
a little grass is found. Back from the river, nothing grows but wild
sage. At this place, the water of the river is clear. Previous to this,
the waters, like those of Platt, have been turbid.
804
_25th_—9 miles over a hilly and gravelly road to camp, where is another
kanion of the river.
_26th_—Left the river this morning, and traveld 17 miles over a very
hilly road of coarse, sharp gravel stones, and in some places the rocks
protrude so as to strain wagons in crossing them. In viewing the country
from some of the highest hills in this place, it appears very broken all
around. Passd two or three places that would do for camps for small
parties. Encampd on a fork of Sweet Water, just above its junction.
830
_27th_—18 miles. Traveld 4 miles, and crossd the Sweet Water river. Here
we left it, to see it no more. About 9 miles farther, brought us to the
South pass or dividing ridge.
843
South of the culminating point, at a little distance, stands a solitary
high hill, which some call Table rock. On the right, about 12 or 15
miles, are the Wind River peaks, coverd in some parts with snow. Traveld
5 miles farther and encampd on Pacific springs, calld so from the fact
that their waters run westwardly into the Pacific ocean. Some grass, no
wood.
_28th_—19 miles to Little Sandy creek, a fine stream, of sufficient
amount of water to carry 4 run of mill stones. We passd over an entire
desert, to-day. There is no possible encampment between Pacific springs
and this place, and here is no grass, except what borders the stream, a
few rods wide on each side of it.
867
_29th_—Six miles to Great Sandy creek, over a barren clay road. Fine
stream. Little grass, no wood except a few willows. This stream is a
branch of the California Colorado river. This is Greenwood’s cut-off,
which begins a little east of this river, between the two Sandys. The
old road is the one leading to Bridger’s fort. It is also the one the
Mormons took, when they emigrated to Salt Lake. From Big Sandy creek,
the place of our nooning, we traveld about 2 miles, to the top of a high
point of ground, where stands Colepit rock, a mound 20 or 30 feet high,
and perhaps 100 feet around, composd mostly of clay. On the top of this
rock, the country can be viewd to a great distance around.
Advancing 8 miles farther, the country appears a level plain all around
as far as the eye can reach, except on the north, where the Wind River
range stretches far to the north-west. The rest of the day and the
following night, we traveld about 15 miles, to a deep valley, dangerous
to go down at night.
898
It may here be remarkd, that it would be safe to remain at Big Sandy
creek till 4 or 4½ o’clock in the afternoon, in order that daylight may
appear before arriving at this valley, as it seems necessary to travel
part of the distance from Big Sandy to Green river in the night, there
being no water nor grass on the way from Big Sandy to Green river, a
distance of 44 miles.
_30th_—19 miles to Green river. After having passd from Sandy to Green
river, over a sage plain, destitute of water and grass for our cattle,
with four deep and dangerous valleys to descend into on our way, our
hearts were gladdend that we were enabld to slake the thirst of our
famishing cattle. Here, also, as much of the way past, were several
springs issuing from the banks of the river, containing so much alkali
as to render them unpleasant to drink. This crossing of Green river is
half way from St. Josephs to Oregon city, being 917 miles.
_July 1st_—Staid at the crossing.
917
_2d_—9 miles to camp on Salmon Trout branch, 6 or 8 miles above its
union with Green river. We gaind but little towards Oregon, to-day, the
road being very circuitous and hilly, part of the way.
_3d_—16 miles over a very hilly road. 10 miles to nooning, where is a
tolerably good camp for a small party, 6 miles farther to camp. No wood,
little grass, no water except a small spring.
942
_4th_—10 miles, over a very hilly and stony road, to Ham’s fork of Green
river. Some grass, no wood but willows. Here were a few Indian lodges of
the Snake tribe.
952
_5th_—14 miles over a very hilly road, and part of it very dangerous to
pass. No wood at camp, and but little grass.
_6th_—Frost in camp, this morning. To-day, we traveld 18 miles and
encampd on Bear river, 4 miles west of Smith fork. The hills around us
are quite barren. Bear river has a little grass in some places along its
bottoms. It is a considerable stream, though not more than three fourths
the water that Green river has at the crossing.
_7th_—11 miles to camp on Thomas’ fork of Bear river, about 5 miles
above its confluence, by a circuitous route. No wood but willows.
_8th_—13½ miles over steep mountains, destitute of soil and vegetation,
except weeds, to camp on Bear river, where the bottom furnishes a little
grass. South of us at a small distance, in a large bottom, is Bear lake,
the outlet of which unites with Bear river, a little below camp. The
mountains, viewd from camp, seem to form a triangle. East, comes in Bear
river. A little east of south, is a long gap in the mountains, where
their waters contribute to Bear lake. A little west of north, the valley
stretches far away down Bear river.
_9th_—Staid at the same place, and attended the burial of a young man of
our company. To-day, also, are 14 sick persons in our company.
1008
_10th_—25 miles to camp on Bear river. Passd several fine rills from the
mountains, to-day. A very good road down Bear River bottom. The bottom
and mountain lands, to-day, assume a more verdant appearance, though the
verdure consists mostly of useless shrubs and weeds, except on the
skirts of some of the peaks, where they are clothd with timber
sparingly. From this camp, snow is seen on the Bear River mountains.
_11th_—10 miles to Soda springs, and 1 farther to camp, making 11 miles.
Have traveld over volcanic rocks, to-day, the first I have seen on our
route. Near to camp and north of it, near the base of the mountain, are
three small craters, apparently, of extinct volcanoes. They may,
however, be the craters of some of those silent springs.
_12th_—23½ miles to the head waters of Portneuf, a tributary of Snake
river. It runs in a very circuitous manner.
1067½
_13th_—21 miles, over a mountainous road, to camp. Little grass, no wood
but willows.
_14th_—16 miles to camp, about 4 miles east of Fort Hall in a large
plain, coverd over a considerable portion of it with a heavy growth of
wild sage. This plain is very extensive, reaching from north to south,
probably nearly 100 miles. The Sheep mountain and three butes are seen
from the fort, a considerable distance to the north of it, rising
abruptly from the plain. To the east, south and south-west, mountains
are seen from the fort, serrating the horizon. The rest of the horizon
around presents nearly an unbroken expanse. This plain is waterd with
several springs and streams of considerable size, some of them rising
from the level plain and passing on to join the waters of the Snake or
Lewis river. The Snake is a fine river, rising in the Wind River
mountains, north of Fort Hall, and passing near to it in a southerly
direction, where it is joind by the Portneuf about 9 miles below the
fort, with other tributaries along the plain. Thence, bending its course
westwardly for more than 100 miles, after which its course is northward
till it falls into the Columbia river.
1104½
_15th_—4 miles to Fort Hall, and 2 miles farther to camp, on Portneuf
creek.
1110½
_16th_—7 miles to Portneuf crossing, about 25 rods above its confluence
with Snake river. At this place, and also below, on Snake river, I
gatherd a great quantity of red, yellow and blue currants, the stalks of
which grew, in some places, from 10 to 14 feet high.
1117½
_17th_—12½ miles to camp, at some springs near Snake river. After
leaving Portneuf crossing, we passd a mile down Snake River bottom, and
came to a slough, bad to cross. Passd about half a mile farther, and
came to another bad crossing of a small stream. Thence, down the bottom
about 2 miles, to a considerable stream, whose banks were steep and its
passage difficult. Thence, about half a mile, to where the road ascends
the first terrace above the river bottom. The river bottom along this
day’s route has considerable grass, furnishing camps at almost any
place.
1130
_18th_—18 miles to camp, on Cascade creek. Two miles to American falls,
10 miles to palaisades, 6 to camp. The water of the American falls does
not descend perpendicularly, but like a cascade. The whole descent from
the upper to the lower expanse is from 40 to 50 feet, reckond by
perpendicular measurement. The rocks about the falls appear volcanic,
though some of them show marks of stratification. The table lands here
close in, so as to make the bottom lands draw to a point at the falls.
Below the falls, the table lands border the river, and being entirely
destitute of grass, render encampments difficult, much of the way.
_19th_—8 miles to Cassia creek. No wood. At this camp, the California
road leaves the Oregon trail to the right hand. West of camp, and near
to it, is a range of basaltic trap rocks, of a prismatic and columnar
structure, the fairest specimens of basalt I have seen. Range about 60
feet high above the creek.
_20th_—16 miles over a district of basaltic rocks, slightly hidden from
sight by a thin layer of clay, though in many places they protrude so as
to render traveling with wagons irksome. Camp on Marsh or Swamp creek.
No wood, plenty of grass bordering the creek. Country around, both
mountains and plains, destitute of soil. On the plain, is the famd sage.
On the mountains, are clusters of inferior cedar growth. Rest of the
mountains totally barren.
_21st_—11½ miles, over a dry and dusty plain, to camp, on Snake river,
about 2 miles above the mouth of Goose creek. Here is a narrow bottom,
which furnishes a little coarse grass. No wood. River here about ¼ of a
mile wide.
1183½
_22d_—21 miles. Four miles to Goose creek, 8 miles to the river, a poor
place for encamping, 9 miles farther to camp. Grass. No water at this
season of the year in this creek. No wood but willows. Forenoon, road
was good. Afternoon, rocky.
1204½
_23rd_—9 miles to Rock creek, so calld from its rocky bottom. Fine
little stream. Willows for wood. Good camp.
_24th_—21 miles to camp. Ten to the crossing of Rock creek. Here the
banks are steep and rocky. We noond at this place. Here, also, is grass
enough for a small company to camp at. About 4 miles farther on, Rock
creek turns to the left, and we saw it no more. At this bend of the
creek is a tolerable camp. Seven miles farther brought us to camp, and a
miserable one it was, being on the top of Snake River bluffs, a hight of
at least 300 feet perpendicular from the river. No grass at this place.
Our cattle were driven down a narrow and difficult way, much of it very
steep, three-fourths of a mile to the river, where it was bordered in
some places by little patches of grass, often not one rod wide. Our
cattle were taken up, next morning, with not half a supply during the
night.
1234½
_25th_—16 miles. Eleven miles to Warm Spring creek. Here is but little
grass. About 4 miles farther, to Salmon Fall creek. One mile down the
creek, to camp, near its mouth. Here is a very good camp. On the
north-east side of the river, along here for several miles, are fine
springs issuing from the bluffs, some of which would carry the largest
flouring mills. They are a curiosity. Supposd to be the waters of the
river, spreading out into the country above the American falls, and
passing along between the basaltic rock above, and another stratum
below, till they arrive at this place, where they are dischargd into the
river. The evidence that they are the waters of the river appears to be
derivd from the fact, that the river between the falls and this place
has not more than half the water in it that it has above the falls.
_26th_—6 miles. Five miles to first rapids of Salmon falls, 1 more to
camp. But little grass at this place, and that is mostly on a small
island or two. Salmon falls is more a cascade than fall, except in one
place, where it falls a few feet perpendicularly. Also calld Fishing
falls. The whole cascade is more than a mile in length. To this place
the Indians resort to obtain salmon, which at some seasons of the year
are tolerably plenty, having come from the ocean up the Columbia river,
to the mouth of Snake river, whence they find their way to this place.
1256½
_27th_—24½ miles to camp, on Snake river. To obtain this camp, we left
the road a mile and a half back, and followd a dry branch down to this
place. To-day, we traveld over a dry sage plain, though we had a
tolerably good road. At this place, and even farther east, are seen the
relics of wagons of former emigrants, strewd along the road. Boxes,
bands, tire, and all parts of the irons of wagons, left behind.
1281
_28th_—2 miles from where we left the road, yesterday, to the old
crossing of Snake river. At the crossing, are two small islands, which
furnish a little grass, Encampd 2½ miles farther on, where is little
grass. No wood for fuel. Along the river at this place, is a kind of
grass so salt that cattle will eat it only as they stand in need of
salt. The leaves of this grass grow about 3 inches high, and the
seed-bearing stalk is from 6 to 10 inches in hight. It grows along the
river bottoms, in small patches. I do not know any name for it, and
therefore denominate it _salt grass_, as other grasses will grow amongst
it, that are perfectly fresh.
_29th_—12 miles, over as rough and stony a road, along the banks of
Snake river, as ever I traveld. One wagon was broken, to-day, and left
to be totally destroyd by those that came after us.
1297½
_30th_—11 miles to camp. Grass not very good. About two miles back,
grass might be had by driving the cattle on to an island, in the river.
Road sandy during forepart of the route, to-day, and during the
afterpart, good.
_31st_—11½ miles. Six and a half miles to Salt Grass creek, a name given
from the abundance of salt grass growing there. A tolerable camp might
be had at that place. The creek soon passes among the bluffs, in a
northerly direction, and unites with Snake river, about 5 miles below
where we are campd. Grass is plenty at this place, but it is almost
impossible to obtain any thing of which to make fires.
1320
_August 1st_—19½ miles, over a very level plain, most of the way, and
near to the river, to camp, on Grease Wood creek, about a mile above its
mouth. No good camp can be had along this day’s route, till our present
one, which is not very good. Between camp and Snake river, the little
stream on which our camp is located passes through two crags of basaltic
rock, much crumbled down by time. Rock, east of creek, shows marks of
excessive volcanic violence. Volcanic cinders, rocks half melted,
chimneys where smoke has issued, and in fact, every mark of Vulcan’s
blacksmith shop is here displayd.
_2d_—24 miles to camp on Snake river, at the mouth of a small dry
branch. Grass scarce. No place for encamping, short of this place,
except at 8 miles from last night’s camp, where a small stream affords
very little grass. Our way, to-day, has been over a very uneven and
dusty road. We ascended one hill, so steep and sandy, that we were
obligd to double our teams to surmount it.
1363½
_3d_—4 miles to camp, on Snake river, and drove our cattle on to a small
island.
_4th_—9 miles to camp, on Snake river, 7½ miles to Hot springs, 1½ to
camp. The water of these Hot springs, at their source, is scalding hot.
We crossd them both, a short distance from their source, and as they are
not very far apart, it is probable that their fountain is together. They
are much mineralized.
_5th_—14½ miles, through a sultry hot day, over a desert plain and dusty
road, to camp, on Snake river. No good camp could be had short of this
place, to-day. During the day, we could discover a visible lowering down
of the mountains on each side, towards the confluence of Boyce and Owyhe
rivers and the Snake, where their valleys unite and form an extensive
plain. Salt grass still continues along the river bottom. We, to-day,
lose sight of the basaltic rocks, so long witnessd on our right hand and
on our left. They reach from the American falls nearly to this place,
and as they appear to be thinner on advancing westward, it is thought by
some that the lava of which they are formd, flowd in that direction. It
is said that the Indians of this place are snakes in the grass, but it
is much to be regretted that the river is not a snake in the grass,
whilst our cattle are in so starving a condition.
_6th_—19 miles to camp on Owyhe river, about 4 miles above Fort Boyce.
Not very good grass at this place.
1410
_7th_—Traveld one mile and a half down Owyhe river, and encampd.
_8th_—16 miles, over a good road, to camp, on Malheur (pron. malare)
river. Grass plenty. No firewood but willows. At this place, Mr. Meek
attempted a cut-off to Oregon city, by following up the course of this
river south, for some distance, and then directing his course westward,
till he should arrive at Willamet valley, south a considerable distance
from Oregon city. His attempt proved a failure, with the loss of
considerable property and the lives of some of his company. It is said
that there were nearly 200 wagons in his train.
Our route to-day, from last night’s camp to Malheur river, leaves Fort
Boyce 3 miles to the right. The fort is located in a pleasant place, on
the bank of Snake river, just below the union of the Owyhe and Boyce
with the Snake. The river at this place is near a quarter of a mile
wide, and the only means of ferrying it is a canoe brought from the
river Payette, 250 miles from this place.
1427½
_9th_—25 miles to camp, on Birch creek. 13 miles to a sulphur spring,
where we noond. This distance is up an arm of the Malheur, though dry at
the time. Its course is through a level flat, from one to two miles
wide, having high ranges of land on each side. From Sulphur spring, the
road ascends rapidly to its highest point, a mile or two farther on,
where the country can be viewd for a considerable distance all around.
Reflecting upon such a wonderful scenery as is here on every side
displayd, the mind can hardly appreciate the amount of dynamics adequate
to displace and disrupt the surface of the earth so immensely. It
appears like a great harrow, fit only for Hercules to use in leveling
off the surface of some planet.
_10th_—8 miles to Burnt river, (probably from the naked and reddend
appearance of the mountains through which it passes.) Three miles of the
morning route brought us once more to Snake river, where we saw it for
the last time. Remaining 5 miles over a somewhat hilly road to camp, on
Burnt river, but a small stream at this place. On viewing the river and
its small flats bordering it, from camp, it appears wholly environd by
rugged, jagged mountains, in close contiguity. Oh, when shall I view,
once more, a verdant landscape! One thousand miles of naked rocks!
Landscape without soil! River bottoms with scarcely grass enough to
support emigrant teams. Who can but think of his native land and the
“old oaken bucket”?
1460½
_11th_—13 miles to camp on Burnt river. No good camp short of this, and
this not very good. For 5 or 6 miles of our morning route up the river,
the road was very rough and stony, and it crosses the creek seven times
within that distance. Remainder of the day’s travel was more easily
performd, though more hilly, yet smooth. South of camp and near to it,
ascends a mountain, the height of which, as nearly as I could measure,
with the limited means I had, is about 1300 feet above the bed of Burnt
creek. Along this stream emigrants have formerly been much intimidated
through fear of sudden attacks from Indians. It is very densely shrouded
much of the way with balm of Gilead, alder, hawthorn, and various kinds
of shrubbery, so that the Indians could secrete themselves, till the
near approach of an emigrant train, and then with a sudden rush from the
thicket, frighten the teams and kill many of the emigrants. However, we
saw no Indians along this river.
_12th_—4 miles over a worse road than yesterday afternoon, and crossd
the creek five times.
1477½
_13th_—16 miles to camp on a tributary of Burnt river. Soon after having
started in the morning, we crossd the principal stream of Burnt river,
for the last time. A little farther on, we came to a small right hand
tributary coming from the north, which we followd up about 2 miles,
crossing it 8 times. We then left it, winding our way over the mountains
westwardly, crossing two or three other small tributaries, till we
arrivd again upon the Burnt river bottoms, not more than 8 miles in a
straight line from last night’s camp. At this place we noond, after
having passd over a hilly, though smooth road. Here emigrants might
tarry for the night. One mile further on we crossd North fork, and upset
one wagon at the crossing. Our course was now nearly west, up a
mountain, till we arrivd at a branch of the North fork. Passing on a
mile or more, we encampd for the night. Grasses along the bottom here
are coarse, consisting of wild wheat, rye, and wild chess. Mountain
grasses here are the bunch grass, as it is calld, but at this time so
dry and dead that cattle do not love it. The hills at the sources of the
Burnt river, among which they ramify in all directions, like the blood
vessels in the human system, are composd measurably of a slaty rock,
which decomposes into loose material more readily than the hard basaltic
rocks of Snake river. Occasionally, however, graphic granite is here
seen to protrude above the hills.
_14th_—20 miles to camp, at Lone Pine stump, now nearly obliterated by
fires set to it by emigrants, in the valley of Powder river. Here is the
bed of a small stream, where there is water at some seasons of the year,
though dry now, except in stagnant ponds. Grass is tolerably plenty
along this little branch. No wood at this place to be obtaind for
cooking. Road, to-day, hilly but smooth. At about 6 miles, emigrants
might camp. Here, we left the waters of Burnt river, and passd over the
hills to Powder river. Powder River valley, east of camp, still retains
the old character of desert and sage plain.
1513½
_15th_—14½ miles to camp, on west branch in west valley of Powder river.
Nine miles to Powder river, down by a circuitous route, along the river,
2 miles to first crossing. Thence across the plain to second fork or
crossing, 2½ miles. One mile farther to west fork or third crossing. In
all, 14½ miles to camp. East valley of Powder river is a spacious plain,
very level, and would be as handsome a valley as my feet ever trode
upon, were it coverd with the rich grasses of the eastern states. At
each of the three crossings here mentiond, which unite a short distance
below us and form the principal Powder river, is seen in small patches,
a luxuriant growth of the well known grass, red top. As we advance, the
climate changes. In camp, this morning, was seen ice in our cooking
vessels, and by 10 we were uncomfortably warm. On our left, the Powder
River mountains, close by which the river finds it way, are clothd with
timber, nearly down their declivities to their base. On our right they
yet are naked, Indians around us are burning, as fast as verdure becomes
dry enough, which at this time, renders the air so smoky, that we can
see but a short distance.
_16th_—15 miles to camp, at the head of Grand Round valley. After
traveling a short distance, this morning, from the last crossing of
Powder river, we ascended a short rise. We then proceeded over a smooth
road of moderate descent, till we came to a small branch of Powder
river, at the foot of a hill, where several small rivulets are seen to
issue from the hills round about. This is about 8 miles from the last
crossing. Here is a tolerable encampment. The rest of the way to Grand
Round hollow, a distance of 7 miles further, is over a hilly and some
part of the way, very stony road. At 10½ miles from the crossing,
emigrants might also encamp for the night, there being a little water
and some grass along a small run. Grand Round valley is extensive. It is
surrounded with high hills, coverd with bunch grass, except occasional
patches of yellow pine. Along our road, this valley is rich, coverd with
various kinds of grasses, though entirely dead much of the way across
the upper end of the valley at this time, no rains having fallen here
lately.
_17th_—15 miles to camp, on Grand Round river. Eight miles across the
head of the beautiful Grand Round valley, to a small branch, where
emigrants might camp for the night, at the foot of the Blue mountains
bordering the valley. From thence, we wound our way over the steep and
rugged mountains, racking and straining our wagons, the distance of 7
miles farther, to the deep and lonely dell, where the Grand Round river
is struggling and forcing its way through its narrow passage, down to
the beautiful valley, Grand Round. Over this day’s route, the mountains
have as rich a soil as the valley, till near the dell, where the red
mountain soil is seen. Where we are campd, the dell is narrow, and
furnishes but little grass. It is remarkable for loudness of sound, when
a gun is fired. Rocks of these mountains, volcanic.
1558½
_18th_—10½ miles, over a very uneven district of volcanic rocks and
mountain soil, to camp, on one of the highest peaks of the Blue
mountains on our route. Country, to-day, becomes more densely timberd
all around and along our road, overshadowing it in many places with
yellow pine, fir and spruce hemlock. Have passd several deep cuts,
to-day, so steep that teams were necessarily doubld to ascend out of
them, and some of them were dangerous and difficult. Our camp is located
on the side of a high ridge, in a small opening, nearly one fourth of a
mile above its base, where we were obligd to descend, to obtain water
for cooking. From this high ridge, it is said, Mt. Hood can be seen, but
at this time it is so smoky, that we can see but a little distance.
1569
_19th_—10 miles, over the western declivity of the Blue mountains,
moderate in descent, and tolerably smooth most of the way to camp, in a
small opening, a little larger than our carelle, calld Lee’s encampment.
Here, two men met us, from Fort Waters, where the late murders were
committed, with news that we had nothing to fear from hostile Indians,
any farther on our route. This gave great encouragement to the timorous
emigrants. Accordingly,
_20th_—We descended the western declivity of the Blue mountains, part of
the way over volcanic scoria, to camp, on Umatilla river. About 12 miles
of the first part of this day’s route, was through a timberd district of
pine, hemlock and fir, loaded, many of them, with pendant moss. On
leaving the timber, we ascended a hill, a mile or more, to Mount
Prospect, the last high point before descending the bluffs to the river.
I name the hill, from its commanding a view of the whole western
horizon, to a great distance around.
On Prospect hill is a cluster of rocks, which, with a little help of the
imagination, can be easily construed into Vulcan’s blacksmith shop,
where all the cinders so profusely spread over the Blue mountains, were
made. On retiring, he left his forge loaded with the cinders of his last
blast, as a memorial of his great ambition.
Three and a half miles more, down the bluffs, brought us to camp, making
in all, this day, 16½ miles.
1595½
_21st_—Down Umatilla river, near to crossing, 10 miles. Country here
entirely prairie, and very undulating.
_22d_—Crossd the river, half a mile below camp, and passd about two
miles on the flat. Ascended the bluff, and passd over the prairie about
14 miles, to the river, down the river two miles to camp, making in all
18½ miles. Prairie, to-day, uneven, and of poor soil.
1624
_23d_—14½ miles to camp, on Alder creek. Five miles to second crossing
of Umatilla, 8½ miles to Alder creek, up the same one mile to camp.
Little grass, no wood but fine willows. In this day’s travel, two miles
might have been savd, by crossing the river at camp, but to avoid sandy
traveling, emigrants go down the river some farther. This is Whitman’s
cut-off.
_24th_—18½ miles, over a poor tract of the Columbia River valley, to
camp, at the foot of a hill, by a spring, calld Well spring, rising in
the center of a large mound of decayd vegetation, and sinking suddenly
again, within a few feet of where it issues. Noond, to-day, on the
battle-ground of the 24th February, 1848, between Oregon soldiers and
the Cayuse Indians. No grass nor water exists along this day’s route,
where emigrants might refresh themselves and their weary teams. Fire
wood is obtaind two miles east, in a hollow, where are a few scattering
cedars. The spring at camp should be watchd during the night, by a
strong guard, to keep thirsty cattle from falling into it, out of which
they cannot extricate themselves.
_25th_—13 miles, over a miserably poor and uneven country, to Quesnell’s
creek. Down the creek one mile, in order to obtain water, where camp is
located.
1670
_26th_—Staid at camp. Morning cold. Found there was ice in our cooking
vessels, though weather became warm during the day.
_27th_—Returnd up the creek to the crossing, though on the west side of
the flat. From the east side of the flat, to-day’s reckoning commences,
and crosses over to Beaver fork of John Day’s river, a distance of 20½
miles. No camp can be had between the two places, though a small spring
exists, two miles east of camp. Most of the way to-day, the road has
been good, through a long, level valley.
_28th_—7 miles to crossing of John Day’s river. Way down Beaver fork,
very rocky, and road crosses it 4 times.
1697½
_29th_—Down John Day’s river, half a mile. Then ascended the bluff,
about one mile, up a narrow, winding, rocky ravine, the worst we had
ever traveld. On the top of this bluff, the road divides, one leading to
the Columbia river. The other, at the left, is the one we took. From the
top of this bluff, the road, the remainder of the day, was smooth to
camp, at a lone spring among the bluffs. Distance to-day, about fifteen
miles. Grass enough for a small band. No wood. About two miles east, up
a ravine a short distance to the left, there are two small springs,
where a small party might camp for the night. No wood.
1712½
_30th_—25 miles to camp, on the western declivity of the dividing ridge,
between John Day’s and Deshutes river, at the upper end of a ravine,
where was a little grass, but no wood, and no water for cattle. We staid
through the night, without supper, and left next morning, without
breakfast.
_31st_—Traveld about 5 miles, to the crossing of Deshutes or Fall river.
Here, we breakfasted in a deep chasm, almost as difficult of descent and
ascent, as the valley of Sindbad the sailor, with nearly precipitous
rocks, from 1000 to 1500 feet high, on every side. Afternoon employd in
calking wagon-boxes, to ferry our goods across the river.
_Friday, Sept. 1st_—All day employd in getting our goods across the
river, with the help of several Indians. River at the crossing, about
seven rods wide, with considerable current.
_2d_—Whilst watching some of our wagons on the bank of the river, till
others could be taken up the bluffs, I was led to the following
reflections upon the miserable condition of the poor, degraded-looking
Indians at this place—
THE INDIANS OF DESHUTES.
“That Indian, whose untutord mind
Sees God in the clouds, or hears him in the wind—
Whose soul, proud science never taught to stray”
Far as the glittring sun, or other orbs of day,
Lives far retird—a kanion deep, a solitary dell,
A gloomy shade—’tis there he deigns to dwell.
What is his food, when naught but rocks around
Are seen? No fields of plenty there do clothe the ground.
His raiment, also scant, to shield his naked form,
No robes of beasts, nor pelts, nor furs, to guard him from the storm.
And when with food he chance to break his fast,
He finds no wood to cook his limited repast.
Alas, what then? The salmon and the salmon trout,
In that mad stream, are seen to gambol all about.
By him prepard upon the rocks, or hung on slender poles,
Not far above, on steep decline, where furious water rolls,
He dries his food, and thus ’tis savd from future harm.
’Tis nearly all he has of food—his clothes, they still are less, with
which to keep him warm.
Now, why should man, poor wretched man, receive such prompt reply,
That when he broke the law of God, ’twas sure that he must die?
Yet linger first awhile, still wretched and forlorn,
To glean an almost naked earth, ’mongst thistle and the thorn?
’Twas done to show that God is just, and true to all intent,—
That man a lesson here might learn, and thus to him repent.
Nine miles from Deshutes, over the rocky bluffs, brought us to another
resting-place, on an arm of Deshutes, flowing from the mountains, in the
direction of Mount Hood. Five miles from Deshutes, was a spring, where
emigrants sometimes camp, but at this time the Indian ponies had eaten
off all the grass. We therefore passd on to our present camp.
1751½
_3d_—12½ miles to camp, on a small tributary of Deshutes, at Barlow’s
gate—all but the gate, though he was found sitting there at the receipt
of custom, allowing each emigrant wagon to pass his road through the
Cascade mountains, at the moderately healthy sum of five dollars each,
which the Government of Oregon had authorized him to receive. But, as
miserable a road as it was, thanks be to Mr. Barlow for his energetic
movement in opening a way through so rough a district as the Cascade
mountains.
Several small streams were passd to-day, though no camps could well be
made on them, for want of grass, except the first, which had a very
little.
1764
_4th_—Staid at the same place.
_5th_—Over the rocky hills, 12 miles to camp, on a muddy arm of
Deshutes, flowing from Mount Hood. Ten and a half miles to the arm, 1½
up the same to camp. No grass for our stock.
_6th_—3 miles up Deshutes valley, to Palmer’s cabin. In consequence of
having lost some of our cattle in the thick and almost impenetrable
forest, our day’s drive was short. A little below Palmer’s cabin, are
signs of very rich bog iron ore. I afterwards found other places of iron
ore along the road, by which I was satisfied that the Cascades abound in
iron.
1779
_7th_—10 miles, over the dividing ridge, to camp, at a small flat
prairie on our left, from which Mount Hood is seen, a few miles distant,
towring high above its neighbor mountains.
1789
_8th_—10 miles to camp. No grass. Chaind our oxen to trees, and cut a
few birch limbs for them. Passd, to-day, what is calld Laurel hill. It
is steep and dangerous.
_9th_—6 miles, down Muddy fork of Sandy, to camp. Drove our cattle
across the stream, and found some grass for them. This has been a rainy
day.
_10th_—15 miles, most of the way over a good road, especially on the
ridge, calld by some, “Devil’s Back-Bone.”
_11th_—8 miles, over a hilly road, down to the first settlement, at the
west foot of the Cascade mountains. One mile to the last crossing of
Sandy creek, 7 more to camp.
1828
_12th_—12 miles to camp.
_13th_—6 miles to Oregon city.
1846
ADVICE TO EMIGRANTS.
[Illustration: Decorative glyph]