On the 1st of April, we made 10 miles across a prairie without timber,
when we were stopped again by another large river, which is called the
_Rio de la Merced_, (river of our Lady of Mercy.) Here the country had
lost its character of extreme fertility, the soil having become more
sandy and light; but, for several days past, its beauty had been
increased by the additional animation of animal life; and now, it is
crowded with bands of elk and wild horses; and along the rivers are
frequent fresh tracks of grizzly bear, which are unusually numerous in
this country.
Our route had been along the timber of the San Joaquin, generally about
eight miles distant, over a high prairie.
In one of the bands of elk seen to-day, there were about 200; but the
larger bands, both of these and wild horses, are generally found on the
other side of the river, which, for that reason, I avoided crossing. I
had been informed below, that the droves of wild horses were almost
invariably found on the western bank of the river; and the danger of
losing our animals among them, together with the wish of adding to our
reconnoissance the numerous streams which run down from the Sierra,
decided me to travel up the eastern bank.
2d.--The day was occupied in building a boat, and ferrying our baggage
across the river; and we encamped on the bank. A large fishing eagle
was slowly sailing along, looking after salmon; and there were some
pretty birds in the timber, with partridges, ducks and geese
innumerable in the neighborhood. We were struck with the tameness of
the latter bird at Helvetia, scattered about in flocks near the
wheat-fields, and eating grass on the prairie; a horseman would ride by
within 30 yards, without disturbing them.
3d.--To-day we touched several times the San Joaquin river--here a
fine-looking tranquil stream, with a slight current, and apparently
deep. It resembled the Missouri in color, with occasional points of
white sand; and its banks, where steep, were a kind of sandy clay; its
average width appeared to be about eighty yards. In the bottoms are
frequent ponds, where our approach disturbed multitudes of wild fowl,
principally geese. Skirting along the timber, we frequently started
elk; and large bands were seen during the day, with antelope and wild
horses. The low country and the timber rendered it difficult to keep
the main line of the river; and this evening we encamped on a tributary
stream, about five miles from its mouth. On the prairie bordering the
San Joaquin bottoms, there occurred during the day but little grass,
and in its place was a sparse and dwarf growth of plants; the soil
being sandy, with small bare places and hillocks, reminded me much of
the Platte bottoms; but, on approaching the timber, we found a more
luxuriant vegetation, and at our camp was an abundance of grass and
pea-vines.
The foliage of the oak is getting darker; and every thing, except that
the weather is a little cool, shows that spring is rapidly advancing;
and to-day we had quite a summer rain.
4th.--Commenced to rain at daylight, but cleared off brightly at
sunrise. We ferried the river without any difficulty, and continued up
the San Joaquin. Elk were running in bands over the prairie and in the
skirt of the timber. We reached the river at the mouth of a large
slough, which we were unable to ford, and made a circuit of several
miles around. Here the country appears very flat; oak-trees have
entirely disappeared, and are replaced by a large willow, nearly equal
to it in size. The river is about a hundred yards in breadth, branching
into sloughs, and interspersed with islands. At this time it appears
sufficiently deep for a small steamer, but its navigation would be
broken by shallows at low water. Bearing in towards the river, we were
again forced off by another slough; and passing around, steered towards
a clump of trees on the river, and finding there good grass, encamped.
The prairies along the left bank are alive with immense droves of wild
horses; and they had been seen during the day at every opening through
the woods which afforded us a view across the river. Latitude, by
observation, 37° 08' 00"; longitude 120° 45' 22".
5th--During the earlier part of the day's ride, the country presented a
lacustrine appearance; the river was deep, and nearly on a level with
the surrounding country; its banks raised like a levee, and fringed
with willows. Over the bordering plain were interspersed spots of
prairie among fields of _tule_, (bulrushes,) which in this country are
called _tulares_, and little ponds. On the opposite side, a line of
timber was visible which, according to information, points out the
course of the slough, which at times of high water connects with the
San Joaquin river--a large body of water in the upper part of the
valley, called the Tule lakes. The river and all its sloughs are very
full, and it is probable that the lake is now discharging. Here elk
were frequently started, and one was shot out of a band which ran
around us. On our left, the Sierra maintains its snowy height, and
masses of snow appear to descend very low towards the plains; probably
the late rains in the valley were snow on the mountains. We traveled 37
miles, and encamped on the river. Longitude of the camp, 120° 28' 34",
and latitude, 36° 49' 12".
6th.--After having traveled fifteen miles along the river, we made an
early halt, under the shade of sycamore-trees. Here we found the San
Joaquin coming down from the Sierra with a westerly course, and
checking our way, as all its tributaries had previously done. We had
expected to raft the river; but found a good ford, and encamped on the
opposite bank, where droves of wild horses were raising clouds of dust
on the prairie. Columns of smoke were visible in the direction of the
Tule lakes to the southward--probably kindled in the tulares by the
Indians, as signals that there were strangers in the valley.
We made, on the 7th, a hard march in a cold chilly rain from morning
until night--the weather so thick that we traveled by compass. This was
a _traverse_ from the San Joaquin to the waters of the Tule lakes, and
our road was over a very level prairie country. We saw wolves
frequently during the day, prowling about after the young antelope,
which cannot run very fast. These were numerous during the day, and two
were caught by the people.
Late in the afternoon we discovered timber, which was found to be
groves of oak-trees on a dry _arroyo_. The rain, which had fallen in
frequent showers, poured down in a storm at sunset, with a strong wind,
which swept off the clouds, and left a clear sky. Riding on through the
timber, about dark we found abundant water in small ponds, 20 to 30
yards in diameter, with clear deep water and sandy beds, bordered with
bog rushes, (_juncus effusus_,) and a tall rush (_scirpus lacustris_)
twelve feet high, and surrounded near the margin with willow-trees in
bloom; among them one which resembled _salix myricoides_. The oak of
the groves was the same already mentioned, with small leaves, in form
like those of the white-oak, and forming, with the evergreen-oak, the
characteristic trees of the valley.
8th.--After a ride of two miles through brush and open groves, we
reached a large stream, called the River of the Lake, resembling in
size the San Joaquin, and being about 100 yards broad. This is the
principal tributary to the Tule lakes, which collect all the waters in
the upper part of the valley. While we were searching for a ford, some
Indians appeared on the opposite bank, and having discovered that we
were not Spanish soldiers, showed us the way to a good ford several
miles above.
The Indians of the Sierra make frequent descents upon the settlements
west of the Coast Range, which they keep constantly swept of horses;
among them are many who are called Christian Indians, being refugees
from Spanish missions. Several of these incursions occurred while we
were at Helvetia. Occasionally parties of soldiers follow them across
the Coast Range, but never enter the Sierra.
On the opposite side we found some forty or fifty Indians, who had come
to meet us from the village below. We made them some small presents,
and invited them to our encampment, which, after about three miles
through fine oak groves, we made on the river. We made a fort,
principally on account of our animals. The Indians brought otter-skins,
and several kinds of fish, and bread made of acorns, to trade. Among
them were several who had come to live among these Indians when the
missions were broken up, and who spoke Spanish fluently. They informed
us that they were called by the Spaniards _mansitos_, (tame,) in
distinction from the wilder tribes of the mountains. They, however,
think themselves very insecure, not knowing at what unforeseen moment
the sins of the latter may be visited upon them. They are dark-skinned,
but handsome and intelligent Indians, and live principally on acorns
and the roots of the tule, of which also their huts are made.
By observation, the latitude of the encampment is 36° 24' 50", and
longitude 119° 41' 40".
9th.--For several miles we had very bad traveling over what is called
rotten ground, in which the horses were frequently up to their knees.
Making towards a line of timber, we found a small fordable stream,
beyond which the country improved, and the grass became excellent; and
crossing a number of dry and timbered _arroyos_, we traveled until late
through open oak groves, and encamped among a collection of streams.
These were running among rushes and willows; and, as usual, flocks of
blackbirds announced our approach to water. We have here approached
considerably nearer to the eastern Sierra, which shows very plainly,
still covered with masses of snow, which yesterday and to-day has also
appeared abundant on the Coast Range.
10th.--To-day we made another long journey of about forty miles,
through a country uninteresting and flat, with very little grass and a
sandy soil, in which several branches we crossed had lost their water.
In the evening the face of the country became hilly; and, turning a few
miles up towards the mountains, we found a good encampment on a pretty
stream hidden among the hills, and handsomely timbered, principally
with large cottonwoods, (_populus_, differing from any in Michaux's
Sylva.) The seed-vessels of this tree were now just about bursting.
Several Indians came down the river to see us in the evening; we gave
them supper, and cautioned them against stealing our horses; which they
promised not to attempt.
11th.--A broad trail along the river here takes out among the hills.
"Buen camino," (good road,) said one of the Indians, of whom we had
inquired about the pass; and, following it accordingly, it conducted us
beautifully through a very broken country, by an excellent way, which,
otherwise, we should have found extremely bad. Taken separately, the
hills present smooth and graceful outlines, but, together, make bad
traveling ground. Instead of grass, the whole face of the country is
closely covered with _erodium cicutarium_, here only two or three
inches high. Its height and beauty varied in a remarkable manner with
the locality, being, in many low places which we passed during the day,
around streams and springs, two and three feet high. The country had
now assumed a character of aridity; and the luxuriant green of these
little streams, wooded with willow, oak, or sycamore, looked very
refreshing among the sandy hills.
In the evening we encamped on a large creek, with abundant water. I
noticed here in bloom, for the first time since leaving the Arkansas
waters, the _Miribilis Jalapa_.
12th.--Along our road to-day the country was altogether sandy, and
vegetation meager. _Ephedra occidentalis_, which we had first seen in
the neighborhood of the Pyramid lake, made its appearance here, and in
the course of the day became very abundant, and in large bushes.
Towards the close of the afternoon, we reached a tolerably large river,
which empties into a small lake at the head of the valley; it is about
thirty-five yards wide, with a stony and gravelly bed, and the swiftest
stream we have crossed since leaving the bay. The bottoms produced no
grass, though well timbered with willow and cottonwood; and, after
ascending several miles, we made a late encampment on a little bottom,
with scanty grass. In greater part, the vegetation along our road
consisted now of rare and unusual plants, among which many were
entirely new.
Along the bottoms were thickets consisting of several varieties of
shrubs, which made here their first appearance; and among these was
_Garrya elliptica_, (Lindley,) a small tree belonging to a very
peculiar natural order, and, in its general appearance, (growing in
thickets,) resembling willow. It now became common along the streams,
frequently supplying the place of _salix longifolia_.
13th.--The water was low, and a few miles above we forded the river at
a rapid, and marched in a southeasterly direction over a less broken
country. The mountains were now very near, occasionally looming out
through fog. In a few hours we reached the bottom of a creek without
water, over which the sandy beds were dispersed in many branches.
Immediately where we struck it, the timber terminated; and below, to
the right, it was a broad bed of dry and bare sands. There were many
tracks of Indians and horses imprinted in the sand, which, with other
indications, informed us was the creek issuing from the pass, and which
we have called Pass creek. We ascended a trail for a few miles along
the creek, and suddenly found a stream of water five feet wide, running
with a lively current, but losing itself almost immediately. This
little stream showed plainly the manner in which the mountain waters
lose themselves in sand at the eastern foot of the Sierra, leaving only
a parched desert and arid plains beyond. The stream enlarged rapidly,
and the timber became abundant as we ascended.
A new species of pine made its appearance, with several kinds of oaks,
and a variety of trees; and the country changing its appearance
suddenly and entirely, we found ourselves again traveling among the old
orchard-like places. Here we selected a delightful encampment in a
handsome green oak hollow, where among the open bolls of the trees was
an abundant sward of grass and pea-vines. In the evening a Christian
Indian rode into the camp, well dressed, with long spurs, and a
_sombreo_, and speaking Spanish fluently. It was an unexpected
apparition, and a strange and pleasant sight in this desolate gorge of
a mountain--an Indian face, Spanish costume, jingling spurs, and horse
equipped after the Spanish manner. He informed me that he belonged to
one of the Spanish missions to the south, distant two or three days'
ride, and that he had obtained from the priests leave to spend a few
days with his relations in the Sierra. Having seen us enter the pass,
he had come down to visit us. He appeared familiarly acquainted with
the country, and gave me definite and clear information in regard to
the desert region east of the mountains. I had entered the pass with a
strong disposition to vary my route, and to travel directly across
towards the Great Salt lake, in the view of obtaining some acquaintance
with the interior of the Great Basin, while pursuing a direct course
for the frontier; but his representation, which described it as an arid
and barren desert, that had repulsed by its sterility all the attempts
of the Indians to penetrate it, determined me for the present to
relinquish the plan, and agreeably to his advice, after crossing the
Sierra, continue our intended route along its eastern base to the
Spanish trail. By this route, a party of six Indians, who had come from
a great river in the eastern part of the desert to trade with his
people, had just started on their return. He would himself return the
next day to _San Fernando_, and as our roads would be the same for two
days, he offered his services to conduct us so far on our way. His
offer was gladly accepted. The fog which had somewhat interfered with
views in the valley, had entirely passed off, and left a clear sky.
That which had enveloped us in the neighborhood of the pass proceeded
evidently from fires kindled among the tulares by Indians living near
the lakes, and which were intended to warn those in the mountains that
there were strangers in the valley. Our position was in latitude 35°
17' 12", and longitude 118° 35' 03".
14th.--Our guide joined us this morning on the trail; and, arriving in
a short distance at an open bottom where the creek forked, we continued
up the right-hand branch, which was enriched by a profusion of flowers,
and handsomely wooded with sycamore, oaks, cottonwood, and willow, with
other trees, and some shrubby plants. In its long strings of balls,
this sycamore differs from that of the United States, and is the
_platanus occidentalus_ of Hooker--a new species recently described
among the plants collected in the voyage of the Sulphur. The cottonwood
varied its foliage with white tufts, and the feathery seeds were flying
plentifully through the air. Gooseberries, nearly ripe, were very
abundant in the mountains; and as we passed the dividing grounds, which
were not very easy to ascertain, the air was filled with perfume, as if
we were entering a highly cultivated garden; and, instead of green, our
pathway and the mountain sides were covered with fields of yellow
flowers, which here was the prevailing color. Our journey to-day was in
the midst of an advanced spring, whose green and floral beauty offered
a delightful contrast to the sandy valley we had just left. All the
day, snow was in sight on the butte of the mountain, which frowned down
upon us on the right; but we beheld it now with feelings of pleasant
security, as we rode along between green trees, and on flowers, with
hummingbirds and other feathered friends of the traveler enlivening the
serene spring air. As we reached the summit of this beautiful pass, and
obtained a view into the eastern country, we saw at once that here was
the place to take leave of all such pleasant scenes as those around us.
The distant mountains were now bald rocks again, and below the land had
any color but green. Taking into consideration the nature of the Sierra
Nevada, we found this pass an excellent one for horses; and with a
little labor, or perhaps with a more perfect examination of the
localities, it might be made sufficiently practicable for wagons. Its
latitude and longitude may be considered that of our last encampment,
only a few miles distant. The elevation was not taken--our half-wild
cavalcade making it troublesome to halt before night, when once started.
We here left the waters of the bay of San Francisco, and, though forced
upon them contrary to my intentions, I cannot regret the necessity
which occasioned the deviation. It made me well acquainted with the
great range of the Sierra Nevada of the Alta California, and showed
that this broad and elevated snowy ridge was a continuation of the
Cascade Range of Oregon, between which and the ocean there is still
another and a lower range, parallel to the former and to the coast, and
which may be called the Coast Range. It also made me well acquainted
with the basin of the San Francisco bay, and with the two pretty rivers
and their valleys (the Sacramento and San Joaquin) which are tributary
to that bay, and cleared up some points in geography on which error had
long prevailed. It had been constantly represented, as I have already
stated, that the bay of San Francisco opened far into the interior, by
some river coming down from the base of the Rocky mountains, and upon
which supposed stream the name of Rio Buenaventura had been bestowed.
Our observations of the Sierra Nevada, in the long distance from the
head of the Sacramento, to the head of the San Joaquin, and of the
valley below it, which collects all the waters of the San Francisco
bay, show that this neither is nor can be the case. No river from the
interior does, or can, cross the Sierra Nevada--itself more lofty than
the Rocky mountains; and as to the Buenaventura, the mouth of which
seen on the coast gave the idea and the name of the reputed great
river, it is, in fact, a small stream of no consequence, not only below
the Sierra Nevada, but actually below the Coast Range--taking its rise
within half a degree of the ocean, running parallel to it for about two
degrees, and then falling into the Pacific near Monterey. There is no
opening from the bay of San Francisco into the interior of the
continent. The two rivers which flow into it are comparatively short,
and not perpendicular to the coast, but lateral to it, and having their
heads towards Oregon and southern California. They open lines of
communication north and south, and not eastwardly; and thus this want
of interior communication from the San Francisco bay, now fully
ascertained, gives great additional value to the Columbia, which stands
alone as the only great river on the Pacific slope of our continent
which leads from the ocean to the Rocky mountains, and opens a line of
communication from the sea to the valley of the Mississippi.
Four _companeros_ joined our guide at the pass; and two going back at
noon, the others continued on in company. Descending from the hills, we
reached a country of fine grass, where the _erodium cicutarium_ finally
disappeared, giving place to an excellent quality of bunch-grass.
Passing by some springs where there was a rich sward of grass among
groves of large black-oak, we rode over a plain on which the guide
pointed out a spot where a refugee Christian Indian had been killed by
a party of soldiers which had unexpectedly penetrated into the
mountains. Crossing a low sierra, and descending a hollow where a
spring gushed out, we were struck by the sudden appearance of _yucca_
trees, which gave a strange and southern character to the country, and
suited well with the dry and desert region we were approaching.
Associated with the idea of barren sands, their stiff and ungraceful
form makes them to the traveler the most repulsive tree in the
vegetable kingdom. Following the hollow, we shortly came upon a creek
timbered with large black-oak, which yet had not put forth a leaf.
There was a small rivulet of running water, with good grass.
15th.--The Indians who had accompanied the guide returned this morning,
and I purchased from them a Spanish saddle and long spurs, as
reminiscences of the time; and for a few yards of scarlet cloth they
gave me a horse, which afterwards became food for other Indians.
We continued a short distance down the creek, in which our guide
informed us that the water very soon disappeared, and turned directly
to the southward along the foot of the mountain; the trail on which we
rode appearing to describe the eastern limit of travel, where water and
grass terminated. Crossing a low spur, which bordered the creek, we
descended to a kind of plain among the lower spurs, the desert being in
full view on our left, apparently illimitable. A hot mist lay over it
to-day, through which it had a white and glistening appearance; here
and there a few dry-looking _buttes_ and isolated black ridges rose
suddenly upon it. "There," said our guide, stretching out his hand
towards it, "there are the great _llanos_, (plains,) _no hay agua; no
hay zacate--nada_: there is neither water nor grass--nothing; every
animal that goes upon them, dies." It was indeed dismal to look upon,
and to conceive so great a change in so short a distance. One might
travel the world over, without finding a valley more fresh and
verdant--more floral and sylvan--more alive with birds and
animals--more bounteously watered--than we had left in the San Joaquin:
here within a few miles' ride, a vast desert plain spread before us,
from which the boldest traveler turned away in despair.
Directly in front of us, at some distance to the southward, and running
out in an easterly direction from the mountains, stretched a sierra,
having at the eastern end (perhaps 50 miles distant) some snowy peaks,
on which, by the information of our guide, snow rested all the year.
Our cavalcade made a strange and grotesque appearance; and it was
impossible to avoid reflecting upon our position and composition in
this remote solitude. Within two degrees of the Pacific ocean--already
far south of the latitude of Monterey--and still forced on south by a
desert on one hand, and a mountain range on the other--guided by a
civilized Indian, attended by two wild ones from the Sierra--a Chinook
from the Columbia, and our mixture of American, French, German--all
armed--four or five languages heard at once--above a hundred horses and
mules, half wild--American, Spanish, and Indian dresses and equipments
intermingled--such was our composition. Our march was a sort of
procession. Scouts ahead and on the flanks; a front and rear division;
the pack-animals, baggage, and horned-cattle in the centre; and the
whole stretching a quarter of a mile along our dreary path. In this
form we journeyed, looking more as if we belonged to Asia than to the
United States of America.
We continued in a southerly direction across the plain, to which, as
well as to all the country, so far as we could see, the _yucca_ trees
gave a strange and singular character. Several new plants appeared,
among which was a zygophyllaceous shrub, (_zygophyllum Californicum_,
Torr. and Frem.,) sometimes ten feet in height; in form, and in the
pliancy of its branches, it is rather a graceful plant. Its leaves are
small, covered with a resinous substance; and, particularly when
bruised and crushed, exhale a singular but very agreeable and
refreshing odor. This shrub and the _yucca_, with many varieties of
cactus, make the characteristic features in the vegetation for a long
distance to the eastward. Along the foot of the mountain, 20 miles to
the southward, red stripes of flowers were visible during the morning,
which we supposed to be variegated sandstones. We rode rapidly during
the day, and in the afternoon emerged from the _yucca_ forest at the
foot of an _outlier_ of the Sierra before us, and came among the fields
of flowers we had seen in the morning, which consisted principally of
the rich orange-colored California poppy, mingled with other flowers of
brighter tints. Reaching the top of the spur, which was covered with
fine bunch-grass, and where the hills were very green, our guide
pointed to a small hollow in the mountain before us, saying, "_a este
piedra hay agua_." He appeared to know every nook in the country. We
continued our beautiful road, and reached a spring in the slope at the
foot of the ridge, running in a green ravine, among granite boulders;
here nightshade, and borders of buckwheat, with their white blossoms
around the granite rocks, attracted our notice as familiar plants.
Several antelopes were seen among the hills, and some large hares. Men
were sent back this evening in search of a wild mule with a valuable
pack, which had managed (as they frequently do) to hide itself along
the road.
By observation, the latitude of the camp is 34° 41' 42", and longitude
118° 20' 00". The next day the men returned with the mule.
17th.--Crossing the ridge by a beautiful pass of hollows, where several
deer broke out of the thickets, we emerged at a small salt lake in a
_vallon_ lying nearly east and west, where a trail from the mission of
_San Buenaventura_ comes in. The lake is about 1,200 yards in diameter;
surrounded on the margin by a white salty border, which, by the smell,
reminded us slightly of Lake Abert. There are some cottonwoods, with
willow and elder, around the lake; and the water is a little salt,
although not entirely unfit for drinking. Here we turned directly to
the eastward along the trail, which, from being seldom used, is almost
imperceptible; and, after traveling a few miles, our guide halted, and,
pointing to the hardly visible trail, "_aqui es camino_," said he, "_no
se pierde--va siempre_." He pointed out a black _butte_ on the plain at
the foot of the mountain, where we would find water to encamp at night;
and, giving him a present of knives and scarlet cloth, we shook hands
and parted. He bore off south, and in a day's ride would arrive at San
Fernando, one of several missions in this part of California, where the
country is so beautiful that it is considered a paradise, and the name
of its principal town (_Puebla de los Angeles_) would make it angelic.
We continued on through a succession of valleys, and came into a most
beautiful spot of flower fields; instead of green, the hills were
purple and orange, with unbroken beds, into which each color was
separately gathered. A pale straw-color, with a bright yellow, the rich
red orange of the poppy mingled with fields of purple, covered the spot
with a floral beauty; and, on the border of the sandy deserts, seemed
to invite the traveler to go no farther. Riding along through the
perfumed air, we soon after entered a defile overgrown with the ominous
_artemisia tridentata_, which conducted us into a sandy plain covered
more or less densely with forests of _yucca_.
Having now the snowy ridge on our right, we continued our way towards a
dark _butte_, belonging to a low sierra on the plain, and which our
guide had pointed out for a landmark. Late in the day, the familiar
growth of cottonwood, a line of which was visible ahead, indicated our
approach to a creek, which we reached where the water spread out into
sands, and a little below sank entirely. Here our guide had intended we
should pass the night; but there was not a blade of grass, and, hoping
to find nearer the mountain a little for the night, we turned up the
stream. A hundred yards above, we found the creek a fine stream,
sixteen feet wide, with a swift current. A dark night overtook us when
we reached the hills at the foot of the ridge, and we were obliged to
encamp without grass; tying up what animals we could secure in the
darkness, the greater part of the wild ones having free range for the
night. Here the stream was two feet deep, swift and clear, issuing from
a neighboring snow peak. A few miles before reaching this creek, we had
crossed a broad dry riverbed, which, nearer the hills, the hunters had
found a bold and handsome stream.
18th.--Some parties were engaged in hunting up the scattered horses,
and others in searching for grass above; both were successful, and late
in the day we encamped among some spring-heads of the river, in a
hollow which was covered with only tolerably good grasses, the lower
ground being entirely overgrown with large bunches of the coarse stiff
grass, (_carex sitchensis_.)
Our latitude, by observation, was 34° 27' 03", and longitude 117° 13'
00".
Traveling close along the mountain, we followed up, in the afternoon of
the 19th, another stream, in hopes to find a grass-patch like that of
the previous day, but were deceived; except some scattered bunch-grass,
there was nothing but rock and sand; and even the fertility of the
mountain seemed withered by the air of the desert. Among the few trees
was the nut pine, (_pinus monophyllus_.)
Our road the next day was still in an easterly direction along the
ridge, over very bad traveling ground, broken and confounded with
crippled trees and shrubs; and, after a difficult march of eighteen
miles, a general shout announced that we had struck the great object of
our search--THE SPANISH TRAIL--which here was running directly north.
The road itself, and its course, were equally happy discoveries to us.
Since the middle of December we had continually been forced south by
mountains and by deserts, and now would have to make six degrees of
_northing_, to regain the latitude on which we wished to cross the
Rocky mountains. The course of the road, therefore, was what we wanted;
and, once more, we felt like going homewards. A _road_ to travel on,
and the _right_ course to go, were joyful consolations to us; and our
animals enjoyed the beaten track like ourselves. Relieved from the
rocks and brush, our wild mules started off at a rapid rate, and in
fifteen miles we reached a considerable river, timbered with cottonwood
and willow, where we found a bottom of tolerable grass. As the animals
had suffered a great deal in the last few days, I remained here all
next day, to allow them the necessary repose; and it was now necessary,
at every favorable place, to make a little halt. Between us and the
Colorado river we were aware that the country was extremely poor in
grass, and scarce for water, there being many _jornadas_, (days'
journey,) or long stretches of forty to sixty miles, without water,
where the road was marked by bones of animals.
Although in California we had met with people who had passed over this
trail, we had been able to obtain no correct information about it; and
the greater part of what we had heard was found to be only a tissue of
falsehoods. The rivers that we found on it were never mentioned, and
others, particularly described in name and locality, were subsequently
seen in another part of the country. It was described as a tolerably
good sandy road, with so little rock as scarcely to require the animals
to be shod; and we found it the roughest and rockiest road we had ever
seen in the country, and which nearly destroyed our band of fine mules
and horses. Many animals are destroyed on it every year by a disease
called the foot-evil; and a traveler should never venture on it without
having his animals well shod, and also carrying extra shoes.
Latitude 34° 34' 11"; and longitude 117° 13' 00".
The morning of the 22d was clear and bright, and a snowy peak to the
southward shone out high and sharply defined. As has been usual since
we crossed the mountains and descended into the hot plains, we had a
gale of wind. We traveled down the right bank of the stream, over sands
which are somewhat loose, and have no verdure, but are occupied by
various shrubs. A clear bold stream, 60 feet wide, and several feet
deep, had a strange appearance, running between perfectly naked banks
of sand. The eye, however, is somewhat relieved by willows, and the
beautiful green of the sweet cottonwoods with which it is well wooded.
As we followed along its course, the river, instead of growing
constantly larger, gradually dwindled away, as it was absorbed by the
sand. We were now careful to take the old camping-places of the annual
Santa Fé caravans, which, luckily for us, had not yet made their yearly
passage. A drove of several thousand horses and mules would entirely
have swept away the scanty grass at the watering places, and we should
have been obliged to leave the road to obtain subsistence for our
animals. After riding 20 miles in a north-easterly direction, we found
an old encampment, where we halted.
By observation, the elevation of this encampment is 2,250 feet.
23d.--The trail followed still along the river, which, in the course of
the morning, entirely disappeared. We continued along the dry bed, in
which, after an interval of about 16 miles, the water reappeared in
some low places, well timbered with cottonwood and willow, where was
another of the customary camping-grounds. Here a party of six Indians
came into camp, poor and hungry, and quite in keeping with the
character of the country. Their arms were bows of unusual length, and
each had a large gourd, strengthened with meshes of cord, in which he
carried water. They proved to be the Mohahve Indians mentioned by our
recent guide; and from one of them, who spoke Spanish fluently, I
obtained some interesting information, which I would be glad to
introduce here. An account of the people inhabiting this region would
undoubtedly possess interest for the civilized world. Our journey
homewards was fruitful in incident; and the country through which we
traveled, although a desert, afforded much to excite the curiosity of
the botanist; but limited time, and the rapidly advancing season for
active operations, oblige me to omit all extended descriptions, and
hurry briefly to the conclusion of this report.
The Indian who spoke Spanish had been educated for a number of years at
one of the Spanish missions, and, at the breaking up of those
establishments, had returned to the mountains, where he had been found
by a party of _Mohahve_ (sometimes called _Amuchaba_) Indians, among
whom he had ever since resided.
He spoke of the leader of the present party as "_mi amo_," (my master.)
He said they lived upon a large river in the southeast, which the
"soldiers called the Rio Colorado;" but that, formerly, a portion of
them lived upon this river, and among the mountains which had bounded
the river valley to the northward during the day, and that here along
the river they had raised various kinds of melons. They sometimes came
over to trade with the Indians of the Sierra, bringing with them
blankets and goods manufactured by the Monquis and other Colorado
Indians. They rarely carried home horses, on account of the difficulty
of getting them across the desert, and of guarding them afterwards from
the Pa-utah Indians, who inhabit the Sierra, at the head of the _Rio
Virgen_, (river of the Virgin.)
He informed us that, a short distance below, this river finally
disappeared. The two different portions in which water is found had
received from the priests two different names; and subsequently I heard
it called by the Spaniards the _Rio de las Animas_, but on the map we
have called it the _Mohahve_ river.
24th.--We continued down the stream (or rather its bed) for about eight
miles, where there was water still in several holes, and encamped. The
caravans sometimes continued below, to the end of the river, from which
there is a very long _jornada_ of perhaps 60 miles, without water. Here
a singular and new species of acacia, with spiral pods or seed-vessels,
made its first appearance; becoming henceforward, for a considerable
distance, the characteristic tree. It was here comparatively large,
being about 20 feet in height, with a full and spreading top, the lower
branches declining towards the ground. It afterwards occurred of
smaller size, frequently in groves, and is very fragrant. It has been
called by Dr. Torrey, _spirolobium odoratum_. The zygophyllaceous shrub
had been constantly characteristic of the plains along the river; and
here, among many new plants, a new and very remarkable species of
eriogonum (_eriogonum inflatum_, Tor. & Frem.) made its first
appearance.
Our cattle had become so tired and poor by this fatiguing traveling,
that three of them were killed here, and the meat dried. The Indians
had now an occasion for a great feast and were occupied the remainder
of the day and all night in cooking and eating. There was no part of
the animal for which they did not find some use, except the bones. In
the afternoon we were surprised by the sudden appearance in the camp of
two Mexicans--a man and a boy. The name of the man was _Andreas
Fuentes_; and that of the boy, (a handsome lad, 11 years old,) _Pablo
Hernandez_. They belonged to a party consisting of six persons, the
remaining four being the wife of Fuentes, and the father and mother of
Pablo, and Santiago Giacome, a resident of New Mexico. With a cavalcade
of about thirty horses, they had come out from Puebla de los Angeles,
near the coast, under the guidance of Giacome, in advance of the great
caravan, in order to travel more at leisure, and obtain better grass.
Having advanced as far into the desert as was considered consistent
with their safety, they halted at the _Archilette_, one of the
customary camping-grounds, about 80 miles from our encampment, where
there is a spring of good water, with sufficient grass; and concluded
to await there the arrival of the great caravan. Several Indians were
soon discovered lurking about the camp, who, in a day or two after,
came in, and, after behaving in a very friendly manner, took their
leave, without awakening any suspicions. Their deportment begat a
security which proved fatal. In a few days afterwards, suddenly a party
of about one hundred Indians appeared in sight, advancing towards the
camp. It was too late, or they seemed not to have presence of mind to
take proper measures of safety; and the Indians charged down into their
camp, shouting as they advanced, and discharging flights of arrows.
Pablo and Fuentes were on horse-guard at the time, and mounted
according to the custom of the country. One of the principal objects of
the Indians was to get possession of the horses, and part of them
immediately surrounded the band; but, in obedience to the shouts of
Giacome, Fuentes drove the animals over and through the assailants, in
spite of their arrows; and, abandoning the rest to their fate, carried
them off at speed across the plain. Knowing that they would be pursued
by the Indians, without making any halt except to shift their saddles
to other horses, they drove them on for about sixty miles, and this
morning left them at a watering-place on the trail, called Agua de
Tomaso. Without giving themselves any time for rest, they hurried on,
hoping to meet the Spanish caravan, when they discovered my camp. I
received them kindly, taking them into my own mess, and promised them
such aid as circumstances might put it in my power to give.
25th.--We left the river abruptly, and, turning to the north, regained
in a few miles the main trail, (which had left the river sooner than
ourselves,) and continued our way across a lower ridge of the mountain,
through a miserable tract of sand and gravel. We crossed at intervals
the broad beds of dry gullies, where in the seasons of rains and
melting snows there would be brooks or rivulets: and at one of these,
where there was no indication of water, were several freshly-dug holes,
in which there was water at the depth of two feet. These holes had been
dug by the wolves, whose keen sense of smell had scented the water
under the dry sand. They were nice little wells, narrow, and dug
straight down; and we got pleasant water out of them.
The country had now assumed the character of an elevated and
mountainous desert; its general features being black, rocky ridges,
bald, and destitute of timber, with sandy basins between. Where the
sides of these ridges are washed by gullies, the plains below are
strewed with beds of large pebbles or rolled stones, destructive to our
soft-footed animals, accustomed to the soft plains of the Sacramento
valley. Through these sandy basins sometimes struggled a scanty stream,
or occurred a hole of water, which furnished camping-grounds for
travelers. Frequently in our journey across, snow was visible on the
surrounding mountains; but their waters rarely reached the sandy plain
below, where we toiled along, oppressed with thirst and a burning sun.
But, throughout this nakedness of sand and gravel, were many beautiful
plants and flowering shrubs, which occurred in many new species, and
with greater variety than we had been accustomed to see in the most
luxuriant prairie countries; this was a peculiarity of this desert.
Even where no grass would take root, the naked sand would bloom with
some rich and rare flower, which found its appropriate home in the arid
and barren spot.
Scattered over the plain, and tolerably abundant, was a handsome
leguminous shrub, three or four feet high, with fine bright purple
flowers. It is a new _psoralea_, and occurred frequently henceforward
along our road.
Beyond the first ridge, our road bore a little to the east of north,
towards a gap in a higher line of mountains; and, after traveling about
25 miles, we arrived at the _Agua de Tomaso_--the spring where the
horses had been left; but, as we expected, they were gone. A brief
examination of the ground convinced us that they had been driven off by
the Indians. Carson and Godey volunteered, with the Mexican, to pursue
them; and, well mounted, the three set off on the trail. At this
stopping-place there are a few bushes, and a very little grass. Its
water was a pool; but near by was a spring, which had been dug out by
Indians or travelers. Its water was cool--a great refreshment to us
under a burning sun.
In the evening Fuentes returned, his horse having failed; but Carson
and Godey had continued the pursuit.
I observed to-night an occultation of _a2 Cancri_, at the dark limb of
the moon, which gives for the longitude of the place 116° 23' 28"; the
latitude, by observation, is 35° 13' 08". From Helvetia to this place,
the positions along the intervening line are laid down, with the
longitudes obtained from the chronometer, which appears to have
retained its rate remarkably well; but henceforward, to the end of our
journey, the few longitudes given are absolute, depending upon a
subsequent occultation and eclipses of the satellites.
In the afternoon of the next day, a war-whoop was heard, such as
Indians make when returning from a victorious enterprise; and soon
Carson and Godey appeared, driving before them a band of horses,
recognised by Fuentes to be part of those they had lost. Two bloody
scalps, dangling from the end of Godey's gun, announced that they had
overtaken the Indians as well as the horses. They informed us, that
after Fuentes left them, from the failure of his horse, they continued
the pursuit alone, and towards night-fall entered the mountains, into
which the trail led. After sunset the moon gave light, and they
followed the trail by moonshine until late in the night, when it
entered a narrow defile, and was difficult to follow. Afraid of losing
it in the darkness of the defile, they tied up their horses, struck no
fire, and lay down to sleep, in silence and in darkness. Here they lay
from midnight until morning. At daylight they resumed the pursuit, and
about sunrise discovered the horses; and, immediately dismounting and
tying up their own, they crept cautiously to a rising ground which
intervened, from the crest of which they perceived the encampment of
four lodges close by. They proceeded quietly, and had got within 30 or
40 yards of their object, when a movement among the horses discovered
them to the Indians. Giving the war-shout, they instantly charged into
the camp, regardless of the number which the _four_ lodges would imply.
The Indians received them with a flight of arrows shot from their
long-bows, one of which passed through Godey's shirt-collar, barely
missing the neck: our men fired their rifles upon a steady aim, and
rushed in. Two Indians were stretched upon the ground, fatally pierced
with bullets: the rest fled, except a little lad that was captured. The
scalps of the fallen were instantly stripped off; but in the process,
one of them, who had two balls through his body, sprang to his feet,
the blood streaming from his skinned head, and uttering a hideous howl.
An old squaw, possibly his mother, stopped and looked back from the
mountainsides she was climbing, threatening and lamenting. The
frightful spectacle appalled the stout hearts of our men; but they did
what humanity required, and quickly terminated the agonies of the gory
savage. They were now masters of the camp, which was a pretty little
recess in the mountain, with a fine spring, and apparently safe from
all invasion. Great preparations had been made to feast a large party,
for it was a very proper place to rendezvous, and for the celebration
of such orgies as robbers of the desert would delight in. Several of
the best horses had been killed, skinned, and cut up; for the Indians
living in mountains, and only coming into the plains to rob and murder,
make no other use of horses than to eat them. Large earthen vessels
were on the fire, boiling and stewing the horse-beef; and several
baskets, containing 50 or 60 pairs of moccasins, indicated the
presence, or expectation, of a considerable party. They released the
boy, who had given strong evidence of the stoicism, or something else,
of the savage character, in commencing his breakfast upon a horse's
head, as soon as he found he was not to be killed, but only tied as a
prisoner. Their object accomplished, our men gathered up all the
surviving horses, fifteen in number, returned upon their trail, and
rejoined us, at our camp, in the afternoon of the same day. They had
rode about 100 miles, in the pursuit and return, and all in 30 hours.
The time, place, object, and numbers considered, this expedition of
Carson and Godey may be considered among the boldest and most
disinterested which the annals of western adventure, so full of daring
deeds, can present. Two men, in a savage desert, pursue day and night
an unknown body of Indians, into the defile of an unknown
mountain--attack them on sight, without counting numbers--and defeat
them in an instant--and for what? To punish the robbers of the desert,
and to avenge the wrongs of Mexicans whom they did not know. I repeat:
it was Carson and Godey who did this--the former an _American_, born in
the Boonslick county of Missouri; the latter a Frenchman, born in St.
Louis,--and both trained to western enterprise from early life.
By the information of Fuentes, we had now to make a long stretch of 40
or 50 miles across a plain which lay between us and the next possible
camp; and we resumed our journey late in the afternoon, with the
intention of traveling through the night, and avoiding the excessive
heat of the day, which was oppressive to our animals. For several hours
we traveled across a high plain, passing, at the opposite side, through
a canon by the bed of a creek, running northwardly into a small lake
beyond, and both of them being dry. We had a warm, moonshiny night;
and, traveling directly towards the north-star, we journeyed now across
an open plain, between mountain-ridges--that on the left being broken,
rocky, and bald, according to Carson and Godey, who had entered here in
pursuit of the horses. The plain appeared covered principally with the
_zygophyllum Californicum_, already mentioned; and the line of our road
was marked by the skeletons of horses, which were strewed to
considerable breadth over the plain. We were always warned on entering
one of these long stretches, by the bones of these animals, which had
perished before they could reach the water. About midnight we reached a
considerable stream-bed, now dry--the discharge of the waters of this
basin, (when it collected any)--down which we descended, in a
northwesterly direction. The creek-bed was overgrown with shrubbery,
and several hours before day it brought us to the entrance of a canon,
where we found water, and encamped. This word _canon_ is used by the
Spaniards to signify a defile or gorge in a creek or river, where high
rocks press in close, and make a narrow way, usually difficult, and
often impossible to be passed.
In the morning we found that we had a very poor camping-ground--a
swampy, salty spot, with a little long, unwholesome grass; and the
water, which rose in springs, being useful only to wet the mouth, but
entirely too salt to drink. All around was sand and rocks, and
skeletons of horses which had not been able to find support for their
lives. As we were about to start, we found, at the distance of a few
hundred yards, among the hills to the southward, a spring of tolerably
good water, which was a relief to ourselves; but the place was too poor
to remain long, and therefore we continued on this morning. On the
creek were thickets of _spirolobium odoratum_ (acacia) in bloom, and
very fragrant.
Passing through the canon, we entered another sandy basin, through
which the dry stream-bed continued its north-westerly course, in which
direction appeared a high snowy mountain.
We traveled through a barren district, where a heavy gale was blowing
about the loose sand, and, after a ride of eight miles, reached a large
creek of salt and bitter water, running in a westerly direction, to
receive the stream-bed we had left. It is called by the Spaniards
_Amargosa_--the bitter-water of the desert. Where we struck it, the
stream bends; and we continued in a northerly course up the ravine of
its valley, passing on the way a fork from the right, near which
occurred a bed of plants, consisting of a remarkable new genus of
_cruciferæ_.
Gradually ascending, the ravine opened into a green valley, where, at
the foot of the mountain, were springs of excellent water. We encamped
among groves of the new _acacia_, and there was an abundance of good
grass for the animals.
This was the best camping-ground we had seen since we struck the
Spanish trail. The day's journey was about twelve miles.
29th.--To-day we had to reach the _Archilette_, distant seven miles,
where the Mexican party had been attacked, and, leaving our encampment
early, we traversed a part of the desert the most sterile and repulsive
we had yet seen. Its prominent features were dark _sierras_, naked and
dry; on the plains a few straggling shrubs--among them, cactus of
several varieties. Fuentes pointed out one called by the Spaniards
_bisnada_, which has a juicy pulp, slightly acid, and is eaten by the
traveler to allay thirst. Our course was generally north; and, after
crossing an intervening ridge, we descended into a sandy plain, or
basin, in the middle of which was the grassy spot, with its springs and
willow bushes, which constitutes a camping-place in the desert, and is
called the _Archilette_. The dead silence of the place was ominous;
and, galloping rapidly up, we found only the corpses of the two men:
every thing else was gone. They were naked, mutilated, and pierced with
arrows. Hernandez had evidently fought, and with desperation. He lay in
advance of the willow half-faced tent, which sheltered his family, as
if he had come out to meet danger, and to repulse it from that asylum.
One of his hands, and both his legs, had been cut off. Giacome, who was
a large and strong-looking man, was lying in one of the willow
shelters, pierced with arrows.
Of the women no trace could be found, and it was evident they had been
carried off captive. A little lap-dog, which had belonged to Pablo's
mother, remained with the dead bodies, and was frantic with joy at
seeing Pablo; he, poor child, was frantic with grief, and filled the
air with lamentations for his father and mother. _Mi Padre! Mi
Madre!_--was his incessant cry. When we beheld this pitiable sight, and
pictured to ourselves the fate of the two women, carried off by savages
so brutal and so loathsome, all compunction for the scalped-alive
Indian ceased; and we rejoiced that Carson and Godey had been able to
give so useful a lesson to these American Arabs who lie in wait to
murder and plunder the innocent traveler.
We were all too much affected by the sad feelings which the place
inspired, to remain an unnecessary moment. The night we were obliged to
pass there. Early in the morning we left it, having first written a
brief account of what had happened, and put it in the cleft of a pole
planted at the spring, that the approaching caravan might learn the
fate of their friends. In commemoration of the event, we called the
place _Ague de Hernandez_--Hernandez's spring. By observation, its
latitude was 35° 51' 21".
30th.--We continued our journey over a district similar to that of the
day before. From the sandy basin, in which was the spring, we entered
another basin of the same character, surrounded everywhere by
mountains. Before us stretched a high range, rising still higher to the
left, and terminating in a snowy mountain.
After a day's march of 24 miles, we reached at evening the bed of a
stream from which the water had disappeared, a little only remaining in
holes, which we increased by digging; and about a mile above, the
stream, not yet entirely sunk, was spread out over the sands, affording
a little water for the animals. The stream came out of the mountains on
the left, very slightly wooded with cottonwood, willow, and acacia, and
a few dwarf-oaks; and grass was nearly as scarce as water. A plant with
showy yellow flowers (_Stanleya integrifolia_) occurred abundantly at
intervals for the last two days, and _eriogonum inflatum_ was among the
characteristic plants.