1st.--The hunters went ahead this morning, as buffalo appeared
tolerably abundant, and I was desirous to secure a small stock of
provisions; and we moved about seven mules up the valley, and encamped
one mile below Rock Independence. This is an isolated granite rock,
about six hundred and fifty yards long, and forty in height. Except in
a depression of the summit, where a little soil supports a scanty
growth of shrubs, with a solitary dwarf pine, it is entirely bare.
Everywhere within six or eight feet of the ground, where the surface is
sufficiently smooth, and in some places sixty or eighty feet above, the
rock is inscribed with the names of travelers. Many a name famous in
the history of this country, and some well known to science, are to be
found mixed among those of the traders and travelers for pleasure and
curiosity, and of missionaries among the savages. Some of these have
been washed away by the rain, but the greater number are still very
legible. The position of this rock is in longitude 107° 56', latitude
42° 29' 36". We remained at our camp of August 1st until noon of the
next day, occupied in drying meat. By observation, the longitude of the
place is 107° 25' 23", latitude 42° 29' 56".
2d.--Five miles above Rock Independence we came to a place called the
Devil's Gate, where the Sweet Water cuts through the point of a granite
ridge. The length of the passage is about three hundred yards, and the
width thirty-five yards. The walls of rock are vertical, and about four
hundred feet in height; and the stream in the gate is almost entirely
choked up by masses which have fallen from above. In the wall, on the
right bank, is a dike of trap-rock, cutting through a fine-grained gray
granite. Near the point of this ridge crop out some strata of the
valley formation, consisting of a grayish micaceous sandstone, and
fine-grained conglomerate, and marl. We encamped eight miles above the
Devil's Gate. There was no timber of any kind on the river, but good
fires were made of drift wood, aided by the _bois de vache_.
We had to-night no shelter from the rain, which commenced with squalls
of wind about sunset. The country here is exceedingly picturesque. On
either side of the valley, which is five miles broad, the mountains
rise to the height of twelve and fifteen hundred or two thousand feet.
On the south side, the range appears to be timbered, and to-night is
luminous with fires--probably the work of the Indians, who have just
passed through the valley. On the north, broken and granite masses rise
abruptly from the green sward of the river, terminating in a line of
broken summits. Except in the crevices of the rock, and here and there
on a ledge or bench of the mountain, where a few hardy pines have
clustered together, these are perfectly bare and destitute of
vegetation.
Among these masses, where there are sometimes isolated hills and
ridges, green valleys open in upon the river, which sweeps the base of
these mountains for thirty-six miles. Everywhere its deep verdure and
profusion of beautiful flowers is in pleasing contrast with the sterile
grandeur of the rock and the barrenness of the sandy plain, which, from
the right bank of the river, sweeps up to the mountain range that forms
its southern boundary. The great evaporation on the sandy soil of this
elevated plain, and the saline efflorescences which whiten the ground,
and shine like lakes reflecting in the sun, make a soil wholly unfit
for cultivation.
3d.--We were early on the road the next morning, traveling along the
upper part of the valley, which is overgrown with _artemisia_.
Scattered about on the plain are occasional small isolated hills. One
of these which I have examined, about fifty feet high, consisted of
white clay and marl, in nearly horizontal strata. Several bands of
buffalo made their appearance to-day, with herds of antelope; and a
grizzly bear--the only one we encountered during the journey--was seen
scrambling up among the rocks. As we passed over a slight rise near the
river, we caught the first view of the Wind River mountains, appearing,
at this distance of about seventy miles, to be a low and dark
mountainous ridge. The view dissipated in a moment the pictures which
had been created in our minds, by many descriptions of travelers, who
have compared these mountains to the Alps in Switzerland, and speak of
the glittering peaks which rise in icy majesty amidst the eternal
glaciers nine or ten thousand feet into the region of eternal snows.
The nakedness of the river was relieved by groves of willows, where we
encamped at night, after a march of twenty-six miles; and numerous
bright-colored flowers had made the river bottom look gay as a garden.
We found here a horse, which had been abandoned by the Indians, because
his hoofs had been so much worn that he was unable to travel; and
during the night a dog came into the camp.
4th.--Our camp was at the foot of the granite mountains, which we
climbed this morning to take some barometrical heights; and here among
the rocks was seen the first magpie. On our return, we saw one at the
mouth of the Platte river. We left here one of our horses, which was
unable to proceed farther. A few miles from the encampment we left the
river, which makes a bend to the south, and traversing an undulating
country, consisting of a grayish micaceous sandstone and fine-grained
conglomerates, struck it again, and encamped after a journey of
twenty-five miles. Astronomical observations placed us in latitude 42°
32' 30", and longitude 108° 30' 13".
5th.--The morning was dark, with a driving rain, and disagreeably cold.
We continued our route as usual and the weather became so bad, that we
were glad to avail ourselves of the shelter offered by a small island,
about ten miles above our last encampment, which was covered with a
dense growth of willows. There was fine grass for our animals, and the
timber afforded us comfortable protection and good fires. In the
afternoon, the sun broke through the clouds for a short time, and the
barometer at 5 P.M. was 23.713, the thermometer 60°, with the wind
strong from the northwest. We availed ourselves of the fine weather to
make excursions in the neighborhood. The river, at this place, is
bordered by hills of the valley formation. They are of moderate height;
one of the highest peaks on the right bank being, according to the
barometer, one hundred and eighty feet above the river. On the left
bank they are higher. They consist of a fine white clayey sandstone, a
white calcareous sandstone, and coarse sandstone or pudding-stone.
6th.--It continued steadily raining all day; but, notwithstanding, we
left our encampment in the afternoon. Our animals had been much
refreshed by their repose, and an abundance of rich, soft grass, which
had been much improved by the rains. In about three miles, we reached
the entrance of a _kanyon_, where the Sweet Water issues upon the more
open valley we had passed over. Immediately at the entrance, and
superimposed directly upon the granite, are strata of compact
calcareous sandstone and chert, alternating with fine white and
reddish-white, and fine gray and red sandstones. These strata dip to
the eastward at an angle of about 18°, and form the western limit of
the sandstone and limestone formations on the line of our route. Here
we entered among the primitive rocks. The usual road passes to the
right of this place; but we wound, or rather scrambled, our way up the
narrow valley for several hours. Wildness and disorder were the
character of this scenery. The river had been swollen by the late
rains, and came rushing through with an impetuous current, three or
four feet deep, and generally twenty yards broad. The valley was
sometimes the breadth of the stream, and sometimes opened into little
green meadows, sixty yards wide, with open groves of aspen. The stream
was bordered throughout with aspen, beech, and willow; and tall pines
grow on the sides and summits of the crags. On both sides the granite
rocks rose precipitously to the height of three hundred and five
hundred feet, terminating in jagged and broken pointed peaks; and
fragments of fallen rock lay piled up at the foot of the precipices.
Gneiss, mica slate, and a white granite, were among the varieties I
noticed. Here were many old traces of beaver on the stream; remnants of
dams, near which were lying trees, which they had cut down, one and two
feet in diameter. The hills entirely shut up the river at the end of
about five miles, and we turned up a ravine that led to a high prairie,
which seemed to be the general level of the country. Hence, to the
summit of the ridge, there is a regular and very gradual rise. Blocks
of granite were piled up at the heads of the ravines, and small bare
knolls of mica slate and milky quartz protruded at frequent intervals
on the prairie, which was whitened in occasional spots with small salt
lakes, where the water had evaporated, and left the bed covered with a
shining incrustation of salt. The evening was very cold, a northwest
wind driving a fine rain in our faces; and at nightfall we descended to
a little stream, on which we encamped, about two miles from the Sweet
Water. Here had recently been a very large camp of the Snake and Crow
Indians; and some large poles lying about afforded the means of
pitching a tent, and making other places of shelter. Our fires to-night
were made principally of the dry branches of the artemisia, which
covered the slopes. It burns quickly, and with a clear oily flame, and
makes a hot fire. The hills here are composed of hard, compact mica
slate, with veins of quartz.
7th.--We left our encampment with the rising sun. As we rose from the
bed of the creek, the _snow_ line of the mountains stretched gradually
before us, the white peaks glittering in the sun. They had been hidden
in the dark weather of the last few days, and it had been _snowing_ on
them, while it _rained_ in the plains. We crossed a ridge, and again
struck the Sweet Water--here a beautiful, swift stream, with a more
open valley, timbered with beech and cottonwood. It now began to lose
itself in the many small forks which make its head; and we continued up
the main stream until near noon, when we left it a few miles, to make
our noon halt on a small creek among the hills, from which the stream
issues by a small opening. Within was a beautiful grassy spot, covered
with an open grove of large beech-trees, among which I found several
plants that I had not previously seen.
The afternoon was cloudy, with squalls of rain; but the weather became
fine at sunset, when we again encamped on the Sweet Water, within a few
miles of the SOUTH PASS. The country over which we have passed to-day
consists principally of the compact mica slate, which crops out on all
ridges, making the uplands very rocky and slaty. In the escarpments
which border the creeks, it is seen alternating with a light-colored
granite, at an inclination of 45°; the beds varying in thickness from
two or three feet to six or eight hundred. At a distance, the granite
frequently has the appearance of irregular lumps of clay, hardened by
exposure. A variety of _asters_ may how be numbered among the
characteristic plants, and the artemisia continues in full glory; but
_cacti_ have become rare, and mosses begin to dispute the hills with
them. The evening was damp and unpleasant--the thermometer, at ten
o'clock, being at 36°, and the grass wet with a heavy dew. Our
astronomical observations placed this encampment in longitude 109° 21'
32", and latitude 42° 27' 15".
Early in the morning we resumed our journey, the weather, still cloudy,
with occasional rain. Our general course was west, as I had determined
to cross the dividing ridge by a bridle-path among the country more
immediately at the foot of the mountains, and return by the wagon road,
two and a half miles to the south of the point where the trail crosses.
About six miles from our encampment brought us to the summit. The
ascent had been so gradual, that, with all the intimate knowledge
possessed by Carson, who had made the country his home for seventeen
years, we were obliged to watch very closely to find the place at which
we had reached the culminating point. This was between two low hills,
rising on either hand fifty or sixty feet. When I looked back at them,
from the foot of the immediate slope on the western plain, their
summits appeared to be about one hundred and twenty feet above. From
the impression on my mind at this time, and subsequently on our return,
I should compare the elevation which we surmounted immediately at the
Pass, to the ascent of the Capitol hill from the avenue, at Washington.
It is difficult for me to fix positively the breadth of this Pass. From
the broken ground where it commences, at the foot of the Wind River
chain, the view to the southeast is over a champaign country, broken,
at the distance of nineteen miles, by the Table rock; which, with the
other isolated hills in its vicinity, seem to stand on a comparative
plain. This I judged to be its termination, the ridge recovering its
rugged character with the Table rock. It will be seen that it in no
manner resembles the places to which the term is commonly
applied--nothing of the gorge-like character and winding ascents of the
Alleghany passes in America; nothing of the Great St. Bernard and
Simplon passes in Europe. Approaching it from the mouth of the Sweet
Water, a sandy plain, one hundred and twenty miles long, conducts, by a
gradual and regular ascent, to the summit, about seven thousand feet
above the sea; and the traveler, without being reminded of any change
by toilsome ascents, suddenly finds himself on the waters which flow to
the Pacific ocean. By the route we had traveled, the distance from Fort
Laramie is three hundred and twenty miles, or nine hundred and fifty
from the mouth of the Kansas.
Continuing our march, we reached, in eight miles from the Pass, the
Little Sandy, one of the tributaries of the Colorado, or Green river of
the Gulf of California. The weather had grown fine during the morning,
and we remained here the rest of the day, to dry our baggage and take
some astronomical observations. The stream was about forty feet wide,
and two or three deep, with clear water and a full swift current, over
a sandy bed. It was timbered with a growth of low bushy and dense
willows, among which were little verdant spots, which gave our animals
fine grass, and where I found a number of interesting plants. Among the
neighboring hills I noticed fragments of granite containing magnetic
iron. Longitude of the camp was 109° 37' 59", and latitude 42° 27' 34".
9th.--We made our noon halt on Big Sandy, another tributary of Green
river. The face of the country traversed was of a brown sand of granite
materials, the _detritus_ of the neighboring mountain. Strata of the
milky quartz cropped out, and blocks of granite were scattered about,
containing magnetic iron. On Sandy creek the formation was of
parti-colored sand, exhibited in escarpments fifty to eighty feet high.
In the afternoon we had a severe storm of hail, and encamped at sunset
on the first New Fork. Within the space of a few miles, the Wind
mountains supply a number of tributaries to Green river, which are
called the New Forks. Near our camp were two remarkable isolated hills,
one of them sufficiently large to merit the name of mountain. They are
called the Two Buttes, and will serve to identify the place of our
encampment, which the observations of the evening placed in longitude
109° 58' 11", and latitude 42° 42' 46". On the right bank of the
stream, opposite to the large hill, the strata which are displayed
consist of decomposing granite, which supplies the brown sand of which
the face of the country is composed to a considerable depth.
10th.--The air at sunrise is clear and pure, and the morning extremely
cold, but beautiful. A lofty snowy peak of the mountain is glittering
in the first rays of the sun, which have not yet reached us. The long
mountain wall to the east, rising two thousand feet abruptly from the
plain, behind which we see the peaks, is still dark, and cuts clear
against the glowing sky. A fog, just risen from the river, lies along
the base of the mountain. A little before sunrise, the thermometer was
at 35°, and at sunrise 33°. Water froze last night, and fires are very
comfortable. The scenery becomes hourly more interesting and grand, and
the view here is truly magnificent; but, indeed, it needs something to
repay the long prairie journey of a thousand miles. The sun has shot
above the wall, and makes a magical change. The whole valley is glowing
and bright, and all the mountain peaks are gleaming like silver. Though
these snow mountains are not the Alps, they have their own character of
grandeur and magnificence, and doubtless will find pens and pencils to
do them justice. In the scene before us, we feel how much wood improves
a view. The pines on the mountain seemed to give it much additional
beauty. I was agreeably disappointed in the character of the streams on
this side of the ridge. Instead of the creeks, which description had
led me to expect, I find bold, broad streams, with three or four feet
water, and a rapid current. The fork on which we are encamped is
upwards of a hundred feet wide, timbered with groves or thickets of the
low willow. We were now approaching the loftiest part of the Wind River
chain; and I left the valley a few miles from our encampment, intending
to penetrate the mountains as far as possible with the whole party. We
were soon involved in very broken ground, among long ridges covered
with fragments of granite. Winding our way up a long ravine, we came
unexpectedly in view of a most beautiful lake, set like a gem in the
mountains. The sheet of water lay transversely across the direction we
had been pursuing; and, descending the steep, rocky ridge, where it was
necessary to lead our horses, we followed its banks to the southern
extremity. Here a view of the utmost magnificence and grandeur burst
upon our eyes. With nothing between us and their feet to lessen the
effect of the whole height, a grand bed of snow-capped mountains rose
before us, pile upon pile, glowing in the bright light of an August
day. Immediately below them lay the lake, between two ridges, covered
with dark pines, which swept down from the main chain to the spot where
we stood. Here, where the lake glittered in the open sunlight, its
banks of yellow sand and the light foliage of aspen groves contrasted
well with the gloomy pines. "Never before," said Mr. Preuss, "in this
country or in Europe, have I seen such grand, magnificent rocks." I was
so much pleased with the beauty of the place, that I determined to make
the main camp here, where our animals would find good pasturage, and
explore the mountains with a small party of men. Proceeding a little
further, we came suddenly upon the outlet of the lake, where it found
its way through a narrow passage between low hills. Dark pines which
overhung the stream, and masses of rock, where the water foamed along,
gave it much romantic beauty. Where we crossed, which was immediately
at the outlet, it is two hundred and fifty feet wide, and so deep that
with difficulty we were able to ford it. Its bed was an accumulation of
rocks, boulders, and broad slabs, and large angular fragments, among
which the animals fell repeatedly.
The current was very swift, and the water cold, and of a crystal
purity. In crossing this stream, I met with a great misfortune in
having my barometer broken. It was the only one. A great part of the
interest of the journey for me was in the exploration of these
mountains, of which so much had been said that was doubtful and
contradictory; and now their snowy peaks rose majestically before me,
and the only means of giving them authentically to science, the object
of my anxious solicitude by night and day, was destroyed. We had
brought this barometer in safety a thousand miles, and broke it almost
among the snow of the mountains. The loss was felt by the whole
camp--all had seen my anxiety, and aided me in preserving it. The
height of these mountains, considered by many hunters and traders the
highest in the whole range, had been a theme of constant discussion
among them; and all had looked forward with pleasure to the moment when
the instrument, which they believed to be as true as the sun, should
stand upon the summits, and decide their disputes. Their grief was only
inferior to my own.
The lake is about three miles long, and of very irregular width, and
apparently great depth, and is the head-water of the third New Fork, a
tributary to Green river, the Colorado of the west. In the narrative I
have called it Mountain lake. I encamped on the north side, about three
hundred and fifty yards from the outlet. This was the most western
point at which I obtained astronomical observations, by which this
place, called Bernier's encampment, is made in 110° 08' 03" west
longitude from Greenwich, and latitude 43° 49' 49". The mountain peaks,
as laid down, were fixed by bearings from this and other astronomical
points. We had no other compass than the small ones used in sketching
the country; but from an azimuth, in which one of them was used, the
variation of the compass is 18° east. The correction made in our
field-work by the astronomical observations indicates that this is a
very correct observation.
As soon as the camp was formed, I set about endeavoring to repair my
barometer. As I have already said, this was a standard cistern
barometer, of Troughton's construction. The glass cistern had been
broken about midway; but as the instrument had been kept in a proper
position, no air had found its way into the tube, the end of which had
always remained covered. I had with me a number of vials of tolerably
thick glass, some of which were of the same diameter as the cistern,
end I spent the day in slowly working on these, endeavoring to cut them
of the requisite length; but, as my instrument was a very rough file, I
invariably broke them. A groove was cut in one of the trees, where the
barometer was placed during the night, to be out of the way of any
possible danger, and in the morning I commenced again. Among the
powder-horns in the camp, I found one which was very transparent, so
that its contents could be almost as plainly seen as through glass.
This I boiled and stretched on a piece of wood to the requisite
diameter, and scraped it very thin, in order to increase to the utmost
its transparency. I then secured it firmly in its place on the
instrument, with strong glue made from a buffalo, and filled it with
mercury, properly heated. A piece of skin, which had covered one of the
vials, furnished a good pocket, which was well secured with strong
thread and glue, and then the brass cover was screwed to its place. The
instrument was left some time to dry; and when I reversed it, a few
hours after, I had the satisfaction to find it in perfect order; its
indications being about the same as on the other side of the lake
before it had been broken. Our success in this little incident diffused
pleasure throughout the camp; and we immediately set about our
preparations for ascending the mountains.
As will be seen on reference to a map, on this short mountain chain are
the head-waters of four great rivers on the continent, namely: the
Colorado, Columbia, Missouri, and Platte rivers. It had been my design,
after ascending the mountains, to continue our route on the western
side of the range, and crossing through a pass at the northwestern end
of the chain, about thirty miles from our present camp, return along
the eastern slope, across the heads of the Yellowstone river, and join
on the line to our station of August 7, immediately at the foot of the
ridge. In this way, I should be enabled to include the whole chain, and
its numerous waters, in my survey; but various considerations induced
me, very reluctantly, to abandon this plan.
I was desirous to keep strictly within the scope of my instructions,
and it would have required ten or fifteen additional days for the
accomplishment of this object; our animals had become very much worn
out with the length of the journey; game was very scarce; and, though
it does not appear in the course of the narrative, (as I have avoided
dwelling upon trifling incidents not connected with the objects of the
expedition,) the spirits of the men had been much exhausted by the
hardships and privations to which they had been subjected. Our
provisions had wellnigh all disappeared. Bread had been long out of the
question; and of all our stock, we had remaining two or three pounds of
coffee, and a small quantity of macaroni, which had been husbanded with
great care for the mountain expedition we were about to undertake. Our
daily meal consisted of dry buffalo meat, cooked in tallow; and, as we
had not dried this with Indian skill, part of it was spoiled; and what
remained of good, was as hard as wood, having much the taste and
appearance of so many pieces of bark. Even of this, our stock was
rapidly diminishing in a camp which was capable of consuming two
buffaloes in every twenty-four hours. These animals had entirely
disappeared; and it was not probable that we should fall in with them
again until we returned to the Sweet Water.
Our arrangements for the ascent were rapidly completed. We were in a
hostile country, which rendered the greatest vigilance and
circumspection necessary. The pass at the north end of the mountain was
greatly infested by Blackfeet, and immediately opposite was one of
their forts, on the edge of a little thicket, two or three hundred feet
from our encampment. We were posted in a grove of beech, on the margin
of the lake, and a few hundred feet long, with a narrow _prairillon_ on
the inner side, bordered by the rocky ridge. In the upper end of this
grove we cleared a circular space about forty feet in diameter, and,
with the felled timber, and interwoven branches, surrounded it with a
breastwork five feet in height. A gap was left for a gate on the inner
side, by which the animals were to be driven in and secured, while the
men slept around the little work. It was half hidden by the foliage,
and garrisoned by twelve resolute men, would have set at defiance any
band of savages which might chance to discover them in the interval of
our absence. Fifteen of the best mules, with fourteen men, were
selected for the mountain party. Our provisions consisted of dried meat
for two days, with our little stock of coffee and some macaroni. In
addition to the barometer and thermometer, I took with me a sextant and
spyglass, and we had of course our compasses. In charge of the camp I
left Bernier, one of my most trustworthy men, who possessed the most
determined courage.
12th.--Early in the morning we left the camp, fifteen in number, well
armed, of course, and mounted on our best mules. A pack-animal carried
our provisions, with a coffeepot and kettle, and three or four tin
cups. Every man had a blanket strapped over his saddle, to serve for
his bed, and the instruments were carried by turns on their backs. We
entered directly on rough and rocky ground; and, just after crossing
the ridge, had the good fortune to shoot an antelope. We heard the
roar, and had a glimpse of a waterfall as we rode along, and, crossing
in our way two fine streams, tributary to the Colorado, in about two
hours' ride we reached the top of the first row or range of the
mountains. Here, again, a view of the most romantic beauty met our
eyes. It seemed as if, from the vast expanse of uninteresting prairie
we had passed over, Nature had collected all her beauties together in
one chosen place. We were overlooking a deep valley, which was entirely
occupied by three lakes, and from the brink to the surrounding ridges
rose precipitously five hundred and a thousand feet, covered with the
dark green of the balsam pine, relieved on the border of the lake with
the light foliage of the aspen. They all communicated with each other,
and the green of the waters, common to mountain lakes of great depth,
showed that it would be impossible to cross them. The surprise
manifested by our guides when these impassable obstacles suddenly
barred our progress, proved that they were among the hidden treasures
of the place, unknown even to the wandering trappers of the region.
Descending the hill, we proceeded to make our way along the margin to
the southern extremity. A narrow strip of angular fragments of rock
sometimes afforded a rough pathway for our mules, but generally we rode
along the shelving side, occasionally scrambling up, at a considerable
risk of tumbling back into the lake.
The slope was frequently 60°; the pines grew densely together and the
ground was covered with the branches and trunks of trees. The air was
fragrant with the odor of the pines; and I realized this delightful
morning the pleasure of breathing that mountain air which makes a
constant theme of the hunter's praise, and which now made us feel as if
we had all been drinking some exhilarating gas. The depths of this
unexplored forest were a place to delight the heart of a botanist.
There was a rich undergrowth of plants, and numerous gay-colored
flowers in brilliant bloom. We reached the outlet at length, where some
freshly-barked willows that lay in the water showed that beaver had
been recently at work.
There were some small brown squirrels jumping about in the pines, and a
couple of large mallard ducks swimming about in the stream.
The hills on this southern end were low, and the lake looked like a
mimic sea, as the waves broke on the sandy beach in the force of a
strong breeze. There was a pretty open spot, with fine grass for our
mules; and we made our noon halt on the beach, under the shade of some
large hemlocks. We resumed our journey after a halt of about an hour,
making our way up the ridge on the western side of the lake. In search
of smoother ground, we rode a little inland; and, passing through
groves of aspen, soon found ourselves again among the pines. Emerging
from these, we struck the summit of the ridge above the upper end of
the lake.
We had reached a very elevated point, and in the valley below, and
among the hills, were a number of lakes of different levels; some two
or three hundred feet above others, with which they communicated by
foaming torrents. Even to our great height the roar of the cataracts
came up, and we could see them leaping down in lines of snowy foam.
From this scene of busy waters, we turned abruptly into the stillness
of a forest, where we rode among the open bolls of the pines, over a
lawn of verdant grass, having strikingly the air of cultivated grounds.
This led us, after a time, among masses of rock which had no vegetable
earth but in hollows and crevices though still the pine forest
continued. Towards evening we reached a defile, or rather a hole in the
mountains, entirely shut in by dark pine-covered rocks.
A small stream, with scarcely perceptible current, flowed through a
level bottom of perhaps eighty yards width, where the grass was
saturated with water. Into this the mules were turned, and were neither
hobbled nor picketed during the night, as the fine pasturage took away
all temptation to stray; and we made our bivouac in the pines. The
surrounding masses were all of granite. While supper was being
prepared, I set out on an excursion in the neighborhood, accompanied by
one of my men. We wandered about among the crags and ravines until
dark, richly repaid for our walk by a fine collection of plants, many
of them in full bloom. Ascending a peak to find the place of our camp,
we saw that the little defile in which we lay communicated with the
long green valley of some stream, which, here locked up in the
mountains, far away to the south, found its way in a dense forest to
the plains.
Looking along its upward course, it seemed to conduct, by a smooth
gradual slope, directly towards the peak, which, from long consultation
as we approached the mountain, we had decided to be the highest of the
range. Pleased with the discovery of so fine a road for the next day,
we hastened down to the camp, where we arrived just in time for supper.
Our table-service was rather scant; and we held the meat in our hands,
and clean rocks made good plates, on which we spread our macaroni.
Among all the strange places on which we had occasion to encamp during
our long journey, none have left so vivid an impression on my mind as
the camp of this evening. The disorder of the masses which surrounded
us--the little hole through which we saw the stars over head--the dark
pines where we slept--and the rocks lit up with the glow of our fires,
made a night-picture of very wild beauty.
13th.--The morning was bright and pleasant, just cool enough to make
exercise agreeable, and we soon entered the defile I had seen the
preceding day. It was smoothly carpeted with soft grass, and scattered
over with groups of flowers, of which yellow was the predominant color.
Sometimes we were forced, by an occasional difficult pass, to pick our
way on a narrow ledge along the side of the defile, and the mules were
frequently on their knees; but these obstructions were rare, and we
journeyed on in the sweet morning air, delighted at our good fortune in
having found such a beautiful entrance to the mountains. This road
continued for about three miles, when we suddenly reached its
termination in one of the grand views which, at every turn, meet the
traveler in this magnificent region. Here the defile up which we had
traveled opened out into a small lawn, where, in a little lake, the
stream had its source.
There were some fine _asters_ in bloom, but all the flowering plants
appeared to seek the shelter of the rocks, and to be of lower growth
than below, as if they loved the warmth of the soil, and kept out of
the way of the winds. Immediately at our feet, a precipitous descent
led to a confusion of defiles, and before us rose the mountains, as we
have represented them in the annexed view. It is not by the splendor of
far-off views, which have lent such a glory to the Alps, that these
impress the mind; but by a gigantic disorder of enormous masses, and a
savage sublimity of naked rock, in wonderful contrast with innumerable
green spots of a rich floral beauty, shut up in their stern recesses.
Their wildness seems well suited to the character of the people who
inhabit the country.
I determined to leave our animals here, and make the rest of our way on
foot. The peak appeared so near, that there was no doubt of our
returning before night; and a few men were left in charge of the mules,
with our provisions and blankets. We took with us nothing but our arms
and instruments, and, as the day had become warm, the greater part left
our coats. Having made an early dinner, we started again. We were soon
involved in the most ragged precipices, nearing the central chain very
slowly, and rising but little. The first ridge hid a succession of
others; and when, with great fatigue and difficulty, we had climbed up
five hundred feet, it was but to make an equal descent on the other
side; all these intervening places were filled with small deep lakes,
which met the eye in every direction, descending from one level to
another, sometimes under bridges formed by huge fragments of granite,
beneath which was heard the roar of the water. These constantly
obstructed our path, forcing us to make long _détours_; frequently
obliged to retrace our steps, and frequently falling among the rocks.
Maxwell was precipitated towards the face of a precipice, and saved
himself from going over by throwing himself flat on the ground. We
clambered on, always expecting, with every ridge that we crossed, to
reach the foot of the peaks, and always disappointed, until about four
o'clock, when, pretty well worn out, we reached the shore of a little
lake, in which was a rocky island. We remained here a short time to
rest, and continued on around the lake, which had in some places a
beach of white sand, and in others was bound with rocks, over which the
way was difficult and dangerous, as the water from innumerable springs
made them very slippery.
By the time we had reached the further side of the lake, we found
ourselves all exceedingly fatigued, and, much to the satisfaction of
the whole party, we encamped. The spot we had chosen was a broad flat
rock, in some measure protected from the winds by the surrounding
crags, and the trunks of fallen pines afforded us bright fires. Near by
was a foaming torrent, which tumbled into the little lake about one
hundred and fifty feet below us, and which, by way of distinction, we
have called Island lake. We had reached the upper limit of the piney
region; as, above this point, no tree was to be seen, and patches of
snow lay everywhere around us, on the cold sides of the rocks. The
flora of the region we had traversed since leaving our mules was
extremely rich, and, among the characteristic plants, the scarlet
flowers of the _dodecatheon dentatum_ everywhere met the eye, in great
abundance. A small green ravine, on the edge of which we were encamped,
was filled with a profusion of alpine plants, in brilliant bloom. From
barometrical observations, made during our three days' sojourn at this
place, its elevation above the Gulf of Mexico is 10,000 feet. During
the day, we had seen no sign of animal life; but among the rocks here,
we heard what was supposed to be the bleat of a young goat, which we
searched for with hungry activity, and found to proceed from a small
animal of a gray color, with short ears and no tail--probably the
Siberian squirrel. We saw a considerable number of them, and, with the
exception of a small bird like a sparrow, it is the only inhabitant of
this elevated part of the mountains. On our return, we saw, below this
lake, large flocks of the mountain-goat. We had nothing to eat
to-night. Lajeunesse, with several others, took their guns, and sallied
out in search of a goat; but returned unsuccessful. At sunset, the
barometer stood at 20.522; the attached thermometer 50°. Here we had
the misfortune to break our thermometer, having now only that attached
to the barometer. I was taken ill shortly after we had encamped, and
continued so until late in the night, with violent headache and
vomiting. This was probably caused by the excessive fatigue I had
undergone, and want of food, and perhaps, also, in some measure, by the
rarity of the air. The night was cold, as a violent gale from the north
had sprung up at sunset, which entirely blew away the heat of the
fires. The cold, and our granite beds, had not been favorable to sleep,
and we were glad to see the face of the sun in the morning. Not being
delayed by any preparation for breakfast, we set out immediately.
On every side, as we advanced, was heard the roar of waters, and of a
torrent, which we followed up a short distance, until it expanded into
a lake about one mile in length. On the northern side of the lake was a
bank of ice, or rather of snow covered with a crust of ice. Carson had
been our guide into the mountains, and, agreeably to his advice, we
left this little valley, and took to the ridges again, which we found
extremely broken, and where we were again involved among precipices.
Here were ice-fields; among which we were all dispersed, seeking each
the best path to ascend the peak. Mr. Preuss attempted to walk along
the upper edge of one of these fields, which sloped away at an angle of
about twenty degrees; but his feet slipped from under him, and he went
plunging down the plain. A few hundred feet below, at the bottom, were
some fragments of sharp rock, on which he landed; and, though he turned
a couple of somersets, fortunately received no injury beyond a few
bruises. Two of the men, Clement Lambert and Descoteaux, had been taken
ill, and lay down on the rocks, a short distance below; and at this
point I was attacked with headache and giddiness, accompanied by
vomiting, as on the day before. Finding myself unable to proceed, I
sent the barometer over to Mr. Preuss, who was in a gap two or three
hundred yards distant, desiring him to reach the peak if possible, and
take an observation there. He found himself unable to proceed further
in that direction, and took an observation, where the barometer stood
at 19.401; attached thermometer 50°, in the gap. Carson, who had gone
over to him, succeeded in reaching one of the snowy summits of the main
ridge, whence he saw the peak towards which all our efforts had been
directed, towering eight or ten hundred feet into the air above him. In
the mean time, finding myself grow rather worse than better, and
doubtful how far my strength would carry me, I sent Basil Lajeunesse,
with four men, back to the place where the mules had been left.
We were now better acquainted with the topography of the country, and I
directed him to bring back with him, if it were in any way possible,
four or five mules, with provisions and blankets. With me were Maxwell
and Ayer; and after we had remained nearly an hour on the rock, it
became so unpleasantly cold, though the day was bright, that we set out
on our return to the camp, at which we all arrived safely, straggling
in one after the other. I continued ill during the afternoon, but
became better towards sundown, when my recovery was completed by the
appearance of Basil and four men, all mounted. The men who had gone
with him had been too much fatigued to return, and were relieved by
those in charge of the horses; but in his powers of endurance Basil
resembled more a mountain-goat than a man. They brought blankets and
provisions, and we enjoyed well our dried meat and a cup of good
coffee. We rolled ourselves up in our blankets, and, with our feet
turned to a blazing fire, slept soundly until morning.
15th.--It had been supposed that we had finished with the mountains;
and the evening before it had been arranged that Carson should set out
at daylight, and return to breakfast at the Camp of the Mules, taking
with him all but four or five men, who were to stay with me and bring
back the mules and instruments. Accordingly, at the break of day they
set out. With Mr. Preuss and myself remained Basil Lajeunesse, Clement
Lambert, Janisse, and Descoteaux. When we had secured strength for the
day by a hearty breakfast, we covered what remained, which was enough
for one meal, with rocks, in order that it might be safe from any
marauding bird, and, saddling our mules, turned our faces once more
towards the peaks. This time we determined to proceed quietly and
cautiously, deliberately resolved to accomplish our object if it were
within the compass of human means. We were of opinion that a long
defile which lay to the left of yesterday's route would lead us to the
foot of the main peak. Our mules had been refreshed by the fine grass
in the little ravine at the Island camp, and we intended to ride up the
defile as far as possible, in order to husband our strength for the
main ascent. Though this was a fine passage, still it was a defile of
the most rugged mountains known, and we had many a rough and steep
slippery place to cross before reaching the end. In this place the sun
rarely shone; snow lay along the border of the small stream which
flowed through it, and occasional icy passages made the footing of the
mules very insecure, and the rocks and ground were moist with the
trickling waters in this spring of mighty rivers. We soon had the
satisfaction to find ourselves riding along the huge wall which forms
the central summits of the chain. There at last it rose by our sides, a
nearly perpendicular wall of granite, terminating 2,000 to 3,000 feet
above our heads in a serrated line of broken, jagged cones. We rode on
until we came almost immediately below the main peak, which I
denominated the Snow peak, as it exhibited more snow to the eye than
any of the neighboring summits. Here were three small lakes of a green
color, each, perhaps, of a thousand yards in diameter, and apparently
very deep. These lay in a kind of chasm; and, according to the
barometer, we had attained but a few hundred feet above the Island
lake. The barometer here stood at 20.450, attached thermometer 70°.
We managed to get our mules up to a little bench about a hundred feet
above the lakes, where there was a patch of good grass, and turned them
loose to graze. During our rough ride to this place, they had exhibited
a wonderful surefootedness. Parts of the defile were filled with
angular, sharp fragments of rock, three or four and eight or ten feet
cube; and among these they had worked their way, leaping from one
narrow point to another, rarely making a false step, and giving us no
occasion to dismount. Having divested ourselves of every unnecessary
encumbrance, we commenced the ascent. This time, like experienced
travelers, we did not press ourselves, but climbed leisurely, sitting
down so soon as we found breath beginning to fail. At intervals we
reached places where a number of springs gushed from the rocks, and
about 1800 feet above the lakes came to the snow line. From this point
our progress was uninterrupted climbing. Hitherto I had worn a pair of
thick moccasins, with soles of _parflèche_, but here I put on a light,
thin pair, which I had brought for the purpose, as now the use of our
toes became necessary to a further advance. I availed myself of a sort
of comb of the mountain, which stood against the wall like a buttress,
and which the wind and the solar radiation, joined to the steepness of
the smooth rock, had kept almost entirely free from snow. Up this I
made my way rapidly. Our cautious method of advancing at the outset had
spared my strength; and, with the exception of a slight disposition to
headache, I felt no remains of yesterday's illness. In a few minutes we
reached a point where the buttress was overhanging, and there was no
other way of surmounting the difficulty than by passing around one side
of it, which was the face of a vertical precipice of several hundred
feet.
Putting hands and feet in the crevices between the blocks, I succeeded
in getting over it, and, when I reached the top, found my companions in
a small valley below. Descending to them, we continued climbing, and in
a short time reached the crest. I sprang upon the summit, and another
step would have precipitated me into an immense snow-field five hundred
feet below. To the edge of this field was a sheer icy precipice; and
then, with a gradual fall, the field sloped off for about a mile, until
it struck the foot of another lower ridge. I stood on a narrow crest,
about three feet in width, with an inclination of about 20°N. 51°E. As
soon as I had gratified the first feelings of curiosity, I descended,
and each man ascended in his turn; for I would only allow one at a time
to mount the unstable and precarious slab, which it seemed a breath
would hurl into the abyss below. We mounted the barometer in the snow
of the summit, and, fixing a ramrod in a crevice, unfurled the national
flag to wave in the breeze where never flag waved before. During our
morning's ascent, we had met no sign of animal life, except the small
sparrow-like bird already mentioned. A stillness the most profound and
a terrible solitude forced themselves constantly on the mind as the
great features of the place. Here, on the summit, where the stillness
was absolute, unbroken by any sound, and solitude complete, we thought
ourselves beyond the region of animated life; but while we were sitting
on the rock, a solitary bee (_bromus, the humble-bee_) came winging his
flight from the eastern valley, and lit on the knee of one of the men.
It was a strange place, the icy rock and the highest peak of the Rocky
mountains, for a lover of warm sunshine and flowers; and we pleased
ourselves with the idea that he was the first of his species to cross
the mountain barrier--a solitary pioneer to foretell the advance of
civilization. I believe that a moment's thought would have made us let
him continue his way unharmed; but we carried out the law of this
country, where all animated nature seems at war; and, seizing him
immediately, put him in at least a fit place--in the leaves of a large
book, among the flowers we had collected on our way. The barometer
stood at 18.293, the attached thermometer at 44°; giving for the
elevation of this summit 13,570 feet above the Gulf of Mexico, which
may be called the highest flight of the bee. It is certainly the
highest known flight of that insect. From the description given by
Mackenzie of the mountains where he crossed them, with that of a French
officer still farther to the north, and Colonel Long's measurements to
the south, joined to the opinion of the oldest traders of the country,
it is presumed that this is the highest peak of the Rocky mountains.
The day was sunny and bright, but a slight shining mist hung over the
lower plains, which interfered with our view of the surrounding
country. On one side we overlooked innumerable lakes and streams, the
spring of the Colorado of the Gulf of California; and on the other was
the Wind River valley, where were the heads of the Yellowstone branch
of the Missouri; far to the north, we could just discover the snowy
heads of the _Trois Tetons_, where were the sources of the Missouri and
Columbia rivers; and at the southern extremity of the ridge, the peaks
were plainly visible, among which were some of the springs of the
Nebraska or Platte river. Around us, the whole scene had one main,
striking feature, which was that of terrible convulsion. Parallel to
its length, the ridge was split into chasms and fissures; between which
rose the thin lofty walls, terminated with slender minarets and
columns. According to the barometer, the little crest of the wall on
which we stood was three thousand five hundred and seventy feet above
that place, and two thousand seven hundred and eighty above the little
lakes at the bottom, immediately at our feet. Our camp at the Two Hills
(an astronomical station) bore south 3° east, which, with a bearing
afterwards obtained from a fixed position, enabled us to locate the
peak. The bearing of the _Trois Tetons_ was north 50° west, and the
direction of the central ridge of the Wind River mountains south 39°
east. The summit rock was gneiss, succeeded by sienitic gneiss. Sienite
and feldspar succeeded in our descent to the snow line, where we found
a feldspathic granite. I had remarked that the noise produced by the
explosion of our pistols had the usual degree of loudness, but was not
in the least prolonged, expiring almost instantaneously.
Having now made what observations our means afforded, we proceeded to
descend. We had accomplished an object of laudable ambition, and beyond
the strict order of our instructions. We had climbed the loftiest peak
of the Rocky mountains, and looked down upon the snow a thousand feet
below; and, standing where never human foot had stood before, felt the
exultation of first explorers. It was about two o'clock when we left
the summit, and when we reached the bottom, the sun had already sunk
behind the wall, and the day was drawing to a close. It would have been
pleasant to have lingered here and on the summit longer; but we hurried
away as rapidly as the ground would permit, for it was an object to
regain our party as soon as possible, not knowing what accident the
next hour might bring forth.
We reached our deposite of provisions at nightfall. Here was not the
inn which awaits the tired traveler on his return from Mont Blanc, or
the orange groves of South America, with their refreshing juices and
soft fragrant air; but we found our little _cache_ of dried meat and
coffee undisturbed. Though the moon was bright, the road was full of
precipices, and the fatigue of the day had been great. We therefore
abandoned the idea of rejoining our friends, and lay down on the rock,
and, in spite of the cold, slept soundly.
16th.--We left our encampment with the daylight. We saw on our way
large flocks of the mountain-goat looking down on us from the cliffs.
At the crack of the rifle, they would bound off among the rocks, and in
a few minutes make their appearance on some lofty peak, some hundred or
a thousand feet above. It is needless to attempt any further
description of the country; the portion over which we traveled this
morning was rough as imagination could picture it, and to us seemed
equally beautiful. A concourse of lakes and rushing waters--mountains
of rocks naked and destitute of vegetable earth--dells and ravines of
the most exquisite beauty, all kept green and fresh by the great
moisture in the air, and sown with brilliant flowers, and everywhere
thrown around all the glory of most magnificent scenes,--these
constitute the features of the place, and impress themselves vividly on
the mind of the traveler. It was not until 11 o'clock that we reached
the place where our animals had been left, when we first attempted the
mountains on foot. Near one of the still burning fires we found a piece
of meat, which our friends had thrown away, and which furnished us a
mouthful--a very scanty breakfast. We continued directly on, and
reached our camp on the mountain lake at dusk. We found all well.
Nothing had occurred to interrupt the quiet since our departure, and
the fine grass and good cool water had done much to re-establish our
animals. All heard with great delight the order to turn our faces
homeward; and towards sundown of the 17th, we encamped again at the Two
Buttes.
In the course of this afternoon's march, the barometer was broken past
remedy. I regretted it, as I was desirous to compare it again with Dr.
Engleman's barometers at St. Louis, to which mine were referred; but it
had done its part well, and my objects were mainly fulfilled.
19th.--We left our camp on Little Sandy river about seven in the
morning, and traversed the same sandy, undulating country. The air was
filled with the turpentine scent of the various _artemisias_, which are
now in bloom, and, numerous as they are, give much gayety to the
landscape of the plains. At ten o'clock, we stood exactly on the divide
in the pass, where the wagon-road crosses; and, descending immediately
upon the Sweet Water, halted to take a meridian observation of the sun.
The latitude was 42° 24' 32".
In the course of the afternoon we saw buffalo again, and at our evening
halt on the Sweet Water the roasted ribs again made their appearance
around the fires; and, with them, good humor, and laughter and song,
were restored to the camp. Our coffee had been expended, but we now
made a kind of tea from the roots of the wild-cherry tree.
23d.--Yesterday evening we reached our encampment at Rock Independence,
where I took some astronomical observations. Here, not unmindful of the
custom of early travelers and explorers in our country, I engraved on
this rock of the Far West a symbol of the Christian faith. Among the
thickly inscribed names, I made on the hard granite the impression of a
large cross, which I covered with a black preparation of India-rubber,
well calculated to resist the influence of wind and rain. It stands
amidst the names of many who have long since found their way to the
grave, and for whom the huge rock is a giant gravestone.
One George Weymouth was sent out to Maine by the Earl of Southampton,
Lord Arundel, and others; and in the narrative of their discoveries, he
says: "The next day we ascended in our pinnace that part of the river
which lies more to the westward, carrying with us a cross--a thing
never omitted by any Christian traveler--which we erected at the
ultimate end of our route." This was in the year 1605; and in 1842 I
obeyed the feeling of early travelers, and left the impression of the
cross deeply engraved on the vast rock one thousand miles beyond the
Mississippi, to which discoverers have given the national name of _Rock
Independence_.
In obedience to my instructions to survey the river Platte, if
possible, I had determined to make an attempt at this place. The
India-rubber boat was filled with air, placed in the water, and loaded
with what was necessary for our operations; and I embarked with Mr.
Preuss and a party of men. When we had dragged our boat a mile or two
over the sands, I abandoned the impossible undertaking, and waited for
the arrival of the party, when we packed up our boat and equipage, and
at nine o'clock were again moving along on our land journey. We
continued along the valley on the right bank of the Sweet Water, where
the formation, as already described, consists of a grayish micaceous
sandstone, and fine-grained conglomerate, and marl. We passed over a
ridge which borders or constitutes the river hills of the Platte,
consisting of huge blocks, sixty or eighty feet cube, of decomposing
granite. The cement which united them was probably of easier
decomposition, and has disappeared and left them isolate, and separated
by small spaces. Numerous horns of the mountain-goat were lying among
the rocks; and in the ravines were cedars, whose trunks were of
extraordinary size. From this ridge we descended to a small open plain,
at the mouth of the Sweet Water, which rushed with a rapid current into
the Platte, here flowing along in a broad and apparently deep stream,
which seemed, from its turbid appearance, to be considerably swollen. I
obtained here some astronomical observations, and the afternoon was
spent in getting our boat ready for navigation the next day.
24th.--We started before sunrise, intending to breakfast at Goat
island. I had directed the land party, in charge of Bernier, to proceed
to this place, where they were to remain, should they find no note to
apprize them of our having passed. In the event of receiving this
information, they were to continue their route, passing by certain
places which had been designated. Mr. Preuss accompanied me, and with
us were five of my best men, viz.: C. Lambert, Basil Lajeunesse, Honore
Ayot, Benoist, and Descoteaux. Here appeared no scarcity of water, and
we took on board, with various instruments and baggage, provisions for
ten or twelve days. We paddled down the river rapidly, for our little
craft was light as a duck on the water; and the sun had been some time
risen, when we heard before us a hollow roar, which we supposed to be
that of a fall, of which we had heard a vague rumor, but whose exact
locality no one had been able to describe to us. We were approaching a
ridge, through which the river passes by a place called "canon,"
(pronounced _kanyon_,)--a Spanish word, signifying a piece of
artillery, the barrel of a gun, or any kind of tube; and which, in this
country, has been adopted to describe the passage of a river between
perpendicular rocks of great height, which frequently approach each
other so closely overhead as to form a kind of tunnel over the stream,
which foams along below, half choked up by fallen fragments. Between
the mouth of the Sweet Water and Goat island, there is probably a fall
of three hundred feet, and that was principally made in the canons
before us; as, without them, the water was comparatively smooth. As we
neared the ridge, the river made a sudden turn, and swept squarely down
against one of the walls of the canon, with great velocity, and so
steep a descent that it had, to the eye, the appearance of an inclined
plane. When we launched into this, the men jumped overboard, to check
the velocity of the boat; but were soon in water up to their necks, and
our boat ran on. But we succeeded in bringing her to a small point of
rocks on the right, at the mouth of the canon. Here was a kind of
elevated sand-beach, not many yards square, backed by the rocks; and
around the point the river swept at a right angle. Trunks of trees
deposited on jutting points, twenty or thirty feet above, and other
marks, showed that the water here frequently rose to a considerable
height. The ridge was of the same decomposing granite already
mentioned, and the water had worked the surface, in many places, into a
wavy surface of ridges and holes. We ascended the rocks to reconnoitre
the ground, and from the summit the passage appeared to be a continued
cataract, foaming over many obstructions, and broken by a number of
small falls. We saw nowhere a fall answering to that which had been
described to us as having twenty or twenty-five feet; but still
concluded this to be the place in question, as, in the season of
floods, the rush of the river against the wall would produce a great
rise; and the waters, reflected squarely off, would descend through the
passage in a sheet of foam, having every appearance of a large fall.
Eighteen years previous to this time, as I have subsequently learned
from himself, Mr. Fitzpatrick, somewhere above on this river, had
embarked with a valuable cargo of beaver. Unacquainted with the stream,
which he believed would conduct him safely to the Missouri, he came
unexpectedly into this canon, where he was wrecked, with the total loss
of his furs. It would have been a work of great time and labor to pack
our baggage across the ridge, and I determined to run the canon. We all
again embarked, and at first attempted to check the way of the boat;
but the water swept through with so much violence that we narrowly
escaped being swamped, and were obliged to let her go in the full force
of the current, and trust to the skill of the boatmen. The dangerous
places in this canon were where huge rocks had fallen from above, and
hemmed in the already narrow pass of the river to an open space of
three or four and five feet. These obstructions raised the water
considerably above, which was sometimes precipitated over in a fall;
and at other places, where this dam was too high, rushed through the
contracted opening with tremendous violence. Had our boat been made of
wood, in passing the narrows she would have been staved; but her
elasticity preserved her unhurt from every shock, and she seemed fairly
to leap over the falls.
In this way we passed three cataracts in succession, where perhaps 100
feet of smooth water intervened; and, finally, with a shout of pleasure
at our success, issued from our tunnel into the open day beyond. We
were so delighted with the performance of our boat, and so confident in
her powers, that we would not have hesitated to leap a fall of ten feet
with her. We put to shore for breakfast at some willows on the right
bank, immediately below the mouth of the canon; for it was now eight
o'clock, and we had been working since daylight, and were all wet,
fatigued, and hungry. While the men were preparing breakfast, I went
out to reconnoitre. The view was very limited. The course of the river
was smooth, so far as I could see; on both sides were broken hills; and
but a mile or two below was another high ridge. The rock at the mouth
of the canon was still the decomposing granite, with great quantities
of mica, which made a very glittering sand.
We re-embarked at nine o'clock, and in about twenty minutes reached the
next canon. Landing on a rocky shore at its commencement, we ascended
the ridge to reconnoitre. Portage was out of the question. So far as we
could see, the jagged rocks pointed out the course of the canon, on a
winding line of seven or eight miles. It was simply a narrow, dark
chasm in the rock; and here the perpendicular faces were much higher
than in the previous pass, being at this end two to three hundred, and
further down, as we afterwards ascertained, five hundred feet in
vertical height. Our previous success had made us bold, and we
determined again to run the canon. Every thing was secured as firmly as
possible; and having divested ourselves of the greater part of our
clothing, we pushed into the stream. To save our chronometer from
accident, Mr. Preuss took it, and attempted to proceed along the shore
on the masses of rock, which in places were piled up on either side;
but, after he had walked about five minutes, every thing like shore
disappeared, and the vertical wall came squarely down into the water.
He therefore waited until we came up. An ugly pass lay before us. We
had made fast to the stern of the boat a strong rope about fifty feet
long; and three of the men clambered along among the rocks, and with
this rope let her slowly through the pass. In several places high rocks
lay scattered about in the channel; and in the narrows it required all
our strength and skill to avoid staving the boat on the sharp points.
In one of these, the boat proved a little too broad, and stuck fast for
an instant, while the water flew over us; fortunately, it was but for
an instant, as our united strength forced her immediately through. The
water swept overboard only a sextant and a pair of saddle-bags. I
caught the sextant as it passed by me; but the saddle-bags became the
prey of the whirlpools. We reached the place where Mr. Preuss was
standing, took him on board, and, with the aid of the boat, put the men
with the rope on the succeeding pile of rocks. We found this passage
much worse than the previous one, and our position was rather a bad
one. To go back was impossible; before us, the cataract was a sheet of
foam; and shut up in the chasm by the rocks, which, in some places,
seemed almost to meet overhead, the roar of the water was deafening. We
pushed off again; but, after making a little distance, the force of the
current became too great for the men on shore, and two of them let go
the rope. Lajeunesse, the third man, hung on, and was jerked
headforemost into the river from a rock about twelve feet high; and
down the boat shot like an arrow, Basil following us in the rapid
current, and exerting all his strength to keep in mid channel--his head
only seen occasionally like a black spot in the white foam. How far we
went, I do not exactly know; but we succeeded in turning the boat into
an eddy below. "'_Cre Dieu_," said Basil Lajeunesse, as he arrived
immediately after us, "_Je crois bien que j'ai nagé un demi mile_." He
had owed his life to his skill as a swimmer, and I determined to take
him and the two others on board, and trust to skill and fortune to
reach the other end in safety. We placed ourselves on our knees with
the short paddles in our hands, the most skilful boatman being at the
bow; and again we commenced our rapid descent. We cleared rock after
rock, and shot past fall after fall, our little boat seeming to play
with the cataract. We became flushed with success, and familiar with
the danger; and, yielding to the excitement of the occasion, broke
forth into a Canadian boat-song. Singing, or rather shouting; we dashed
along, and were, I believe, in the midst of the chorus, when the boat
struck a concealed rock immediately at the foot of a fall, which
whirled her over in an instant. Three of my men could not swim, and my
first feeling was to assist them, and save some of our effects; but a
sharp concussion or two convinced me that I had not yet saved myself. A
few strokes brought me into an eddy, and I landed on a pile of rocks on
the left side. Looking around, I saw that Mr. Preuss had gained the
shore on the same side, about twenty yards below; and a little climbing
and swimming soon brought him to my side. On the opposite side, against
the wall, lay the boat bottom up; and Lambert was in the act of saving
Descoteaux, whom he had grasped by the hair, and who could not swim;
"_Lâche pas_," said he, as I afterwards learned, "_lâche pas, cher
frère_." "_Crains pas_," was the reply: "_je m'en vais mourir avant que
de te lâcher_." Such was the reply of courage and generosity in this
danger. For a hundred yards below the current was covered with floating
books and boxes, bales and blankets, and scattered articles of
clothing; and so strong and boiling was the stream, that even our heavy
instruments, which were all in cases, kept on the surface, and the
sextant, circle, and the long black box of the telescope, were in view
at once. For a moment, I felt somewhat disheartened. All our
books--almost every record of the journey--our journals and registers
of astronomical and barometrical observations--had been lost in a
moment. But it was no time to indulge in regrets; and I immediately set
about endeavoring to save something from the wreck. Making ourselves
understood as well as possible by signs, (for nothing could be heard in
the roar of the waters,) we commenced our operations. Of every thing on
board, the only article that had been saved was my double-barreled gun,
which Descoteaux had caught and clung to with drowning tenacity. The
men continued down the river on the left bank. Mr. Preuss and myself
descended on the side we were on; and Lajeunesse, with a paddle in his
hand, jumped on the boat alone, and continued down the canon. She was
now light, and cleared every bad place with much less difficulty. In a
short time he was joined by Lambert, and the search was continued for
about a mile and a half, which was as far as the boat could proceed in
the pass.
Here the walls were about five hundred feet high, and the fragments of
rocks from above had choked the river into a hollow pass, but one or
two feet above the surface. Through this and the interstices of the
rock, the water found its way. Favored beyond our expectations, all of
our registers had been recovered, with the exception of one of my
journals, which contained the notes and incidents of travel, and
topographical descriptions, a number of scattered astronomical
observations, principally meridian altitudes of the sun, and our
barometrical register west of Laramie. Fortunately, our other journals
contained duplicates of the most important barometrical observations
which had been taken in the mountains. These, with a few scattered
notes, were all that had been preserved of our meteorological
observations. In addition to these, we saved the circle; and these,
with a few blankets, constituted every thing that had been rescued from
the waters.
The day was running rapidly away, and it was necessary to reach Goat
island, whither the party had preceded us, before night. In this
uncertain country, the traveler is so much in the power of chance, that
we became somewhat uneasy in regard to them. Should any thing have
occurred, in the brief interval of our separation, to prevent our
rejoining them, our situation would be rather a desperate one. We had
not a morsel of provisions--our arms and ammunition were gone--and we
were entirely at the mercy of any straggling party of savages, and not
a little in danger of starvation. We therefore set out at once in two
parties, Mr. Preuss and myself on the left, and the men on the opposite
side of the river. Climbing out of the canon, we found ourselves in a
very broken country, where we were not yet able to recognise any
locality. In the course of our descent through the canon, the rocks,
which at the upper end was of the decomposing granite, changed into a
varied sandstone formation. The hills and points of the ridges were
covered with fragments of a yellow sandstone, of which the strata were
sometimes displayed in the broken ravines which interrupted our course,
and made our walk extremely fatiguing. At one point of the canon the
red argillaceous sandstone rose in a wall of five hundred feet,
surmounted by a stratum of white sandstone; and in an opposite ravine a
column of red sandstone rose, in form like a steeple, about one hundred
and fifty feet high. The scenery was extremely picturesque, and
notwithstanding our forlorn condition, we were frequently obliged to
stop and admire it. Our progress was not very rapid. We had emerged
from the water half naked, and, on arriving at the top of the
precipice, I found myself with only one moccasin. The fragments of rock
made walking painful, and I was frequently obliged to stop and pull out
the thorns of the _cactus_, here the prevailing plant, and with which a
few minutes' walk covered the bottoms of my feet. From this ridge the
river emerged into a smiling prairie, and, descending to the bank for
water, we were joined by Benoist. The rest of the party were out of
sight, having taken a more inland route. We crossed the river
repeatedly--sometimes able to ford it, and sometimes swimming--climbed
over the ridges of two more canons, and towards evening reached the
cut, which we here named the Hot Spring gate. On our previous visit in
July, we had not entered this pass, reserving it for our descent in the
boat; and when we entered it this evening, Mr. Preuss was a few hundred
feet in advance. Heated with the long march, he came suddenly upon a
fine bold spring gushing from the rock, about ten feet above the river.
Eager to enjoy the crystal water, he threw himself down for a hasty
draught, and took a mouthful of water almost boiling hot. He said
nothing to Benoist, who laid himself down to drink; but the steam from
the water arrested his eagerness, and he escaped the hot draught. We
had no thermometer to ascertain the temperature, but I could hold my
hand in the water just long enough to count two seconds. There are
eight or ten of these springs discharging themselves by streams large
enough to be called runs. A loud hollow noise was heard from the rock,
which I supposed to be produced by the fall of water. The strata
immediately where they issue is a fine white and calcareous sandstone,
covered with an incrustation of common salt. Leaving this Thermopylæ of
the west, in a short walk we reached the red ridge which has been
described as lying just above Goat island. Ascending this, we found
some fresh tracks and a button, which showed that the other men had
already arrived. A shout from the man who first reached the top of the
ridge, responded to from below, informed us that our friends were all
on the island; and we were soon among them. We found some pieces of
buffalo standing around the fire for us, and managed to get some dry
clothes among the people. A sudden storm of rain drove us into the best
shelter we could find, where we slept soundly, after one of the most
fatiguing days I have ever experienced.
25th.--Early this morning Lajeunesse was sent to the wreck for the
articles which had been saved, and about noon we left the island. The
mare which we had left here in July had much improved in condition, and
she served us well again for some time, but was finally abandoned at a
subsequent part of the journey. At 10 in the morning of the 26th we
reached Cache camp, where we found every thing undisturbed. We
disinterred our deposite, arranged our carts which had been left here
on the way out; and, traveling a few miles in the afternoon, encamped
for the night at the ford of the Platte.
27th.--At mid-day we halted at the place where we had taken dinner on
the 27th of July. The country which, when we passed up, looked as if
the hard winter frosts had passed over it, had now assumed a new face,
so much of vernal freshness had been given to it by the rains. The
Platte was exceedingly low--a mere line of water among the sandbars. We
reached Laramie fort on the last day of August, after an absence of
forty-two days, and had the pleasure to find our friends all well. The
fortieth day had been fixed for our return; and the quick eyes of the
Indians, who were on the lookout for us, discovered our flag as we
wound among the hills. The fort saluted us with repeated discharges of
its single piece, which we returned with scattered volleys of our
small-arms, and felt the joy of a home reception in getting back to
this remote station, which seemed so far off as we went out.