1st.--The air is rough, and overcoats pleasant. The sky is blue, and
the day bright. Our road was over a plain, towards the foot of the
mountain; _zygophyllum Californicum_, now in bloom, with a small yellow
flower, is characteristic of the country; and _cacti_ were very
abundant, and in rich fresh bloom, which wonderfully ornaments this
poor country. We encamped at a spring in the pass, which had been the
site of an old village. Here we found excellent grass, but very little
water. We dug out the old spring, and watered some of our animals. The
mountain here was wooded very slightly with the nut-pine, cedars, and a
dwarf species of oak; and among the shrubs were _Purshia tridentata,
artemisia_, and _ephedra occidentalis_. The numerous shrubs which
constitute the vegetation of the plains are now in bloom, with flowers
of white, yellow, red, and purple. The continual rocks, and want of
water and grass, began to be very hard on our mules and horses; but the
principal loss is occasioned by their crippled feet, the greater part
of those left being in excellent order, and scarcely a day passes
without some loss; and, one by one, Fuentes' horses are constantly
dropping behind. Whenever they give out, he dismounts and cuts off
their tails and manes, to make saddle-girths--the last advantage one
can gain from them.
The next day, in a short but rough ride of 12 miles, we crossed the
mountain; and, descending to a small valley plain, encamped at the foot
of the ridge, on the bed of a creek, and found good grass in sufficient
quantity, and abundance of water in holes. The ridge is extremely
rugged and broken, presenting on this side a continued precipice, and
probably affords very few passes. Many _digger_ tracks were seen around
us, but no Indians were visible.
3d.--After a day's journey of 18 miles, in a northeasterly direction,
we encamped in the midst of another very large basin, at a camping
ground called _las Vegas_--a term which the Spaniards use to signify
fertile or marshy plains, in contradistinction to _llanos_, which they
apply to dry and sterile plains. Two narrow streams of clear water,
four or five feet deep, gush suddenly, with a quick current, from two
singularly large springs; these, and other waters of the basin, pass
out in a gap to the eastward. The taste of the water is good, but
rather too warm to be agreeable; the temperature being 71° in the one,
and 73° in the other. They, however, afford a delightful bathing-place.
4th.--We started this morning earlier than usual, traveling in a
northeasterly direction across the plain. The new acacia (_spirolobium
odoratum_) has now become the characteristic tree of the country; it is
in bloom, and its blossoms are very fragrant. The day was still, and
the heat, which soon became very oppressive, appeared to bring out
strongly the refreshing scent of the zygophyllaceous shrubs and the
sweet perfume of the acacia. The snowy ridge we had just crossed looked
out conspicuously in the northwest. In about five hours' ride, we
crossed a gap in the surrounding ridge, and the appearance of skeletons
of horses very soon warned us that we were engaged in another dry
_jornada_, which proved the longest we had made in all our
journey--between fifty and sixty miles without a drop of water.
Travelers through countries affording water and timber can have no
conception of our intolerable thirst while journeying over the hot
yellow sands of this elevated country, where the heated air seems to be
entirely deprived of moisture. We ate occasionally the _bisnada_, and
moistened our mouths with the acid of the sour dock, (_rumex venosus_.)
Hourly expecting to find water, we continued to press on until towards
midnight, when, after a hard and uninterrupted march of 16 hours, our
wild mules began running ahead; and in a mile or two we came to a bold
running stream--so keen is the sense of that animal, in these desert
regions, in scenting at a distance this necessary of life.
According to the information we had received, Sevier river was a
tributary of the Colorado; and this, accordingly, should have been one
of its affluents. It proved to be the _Rio de los Angeles_, (river of
the Angels)--a branch of the _Rio Virgen_. (river of the Virgin.)
5th.--On account of our animals, it was necessary to remain to-day at
this place. Indians crowded numerously around us in the morning; and we
were obliged to keep arms in hand all day, to keep them out of the
camp. They began to surround the horses, which, for the convenience of
grass, we were guarding a little above, on the river. These were
immediately driven in, and kept close to the camp.
In the darkness of the night we had made a very bad encampment, our
fires being commanded by a rocky bluff within 50 yards; but,
notwithstanding, we had the river and small thickets of willows on the
other side. Several times during the day the camp was insulted by the
Indians; but, peace being our object, I kept simply on the defensive.
Some of the Indians were on the bottoms, and others haranguing us from
the bluffs; and they were scattered in every direction over the hills.
Their language being probably a dialect of the _Utah_, with the aid of
signs some of our people could comprehend them very well. They were the
same people who had murdered the Mexicans; and towards us their
disposition was evidently hostile, nor were we well disposed towards
them. They were barefooted, and nearly naked; their hair gathered up
into a knot behind; and with his bow, each man carried a quiver with
thirty or forty arrows partially drawn out. Besides these, each held in
his hand two or three arrows for instant service. Their arrows are
barbed with a very clear translucent stone, a species of opal, nearly
as hard as the diamond; and, shot from their long bow, are almost as
effective as a gunshot. In these Indians, I was forcibly struck by an
expression of countenance resembling that in a beast of prey; and all
their actions are those of wild animals. Joined to the restless motion
of the eye, there is a want of mind--an absence of thought--and an
action wholly by impulse, strongly expressed, and which constantly
recalls the similarity.
A man who appeared to be a chief, with two or three others forced
himself into the camp, bringing with him his arms, in spite of my
orders to the contrary. When shown our weapons, he bored his ear with
his fingers, and said he could not hear. "Why," said he, "there are
none of you." Counting the people around the camp, and including in the
number a mule that was being shod, he made out 22. "So many," said he,
showing the number, "and we--we are a great many;" and he pointed to
the hills and mountains round about. "If you have your arms," said he,
twanging his bow, "we have these." I had some difficulty in restraining
the people, particularly Carson, who felt an insult of this kind as
much as if it had been given by a more responsible being. "Don't say
that, old man," said he; "don't you say that--your life's in
danger"--speaking in good English; and probably the old man was nearer
to his end than he will be before he meets it.
Several animals had been necessarily left behind near the camp last
night; and early in the morning, before me Indians made their
appearance, several men were sent to bring them in. When I was
beginning to be uneasy at their absence, they returned with information
that they had been driven off from the trail by Indians; and, having
followed the tracks in a short distance, they found the animals cut up
and spread out upon bushes. In the evening I gave a fatigued horse to
some of the Indians for a feast; and the village which carried him off
refused to share with the others, who made loud complaints from the
rocks of the partial distribution. Many of these Indians had long
sticks, hooked at the end, which they use in hauling out lizards, and
other small animals, from their holes. During the day they occasionally
roasted and ate lizards at our fires. These belong to the people who
are generally known under the name of _Diggers_; and to these I have
more particularly had reference when occasionally speaking of a people
whose sole occupation is to procure food sufficient to support
existence. The formation here consists of fine yellow sandstone,
alternating with a coarse conglomerate, in which the stones are from
the size of ordinary gravel to six or eight inches in diameter. This is
the formation which renders the surface of the country so rocky, and
gives us now a road alternately of loose heavy sands and rolled stones,
which cripple the animals in a most extraordinary manner.
On the following morning we left the _Rio de los Angeles_, and
continued our way through the same desolate and revolting country,
where lizards were the only animal, and the tracks of the lizard eaters
the principal sign of human beings. After twenty miles' march through a
road of hills and heavy sands, we reached the most dreary river I have
ever seen--a deep rapid stream, almost a torrent, passing swiftly by,
and roaring against obstructions. The banks were wooded with willow,
acacia, and a frequent plant of the country already mentioned, (_Garrya
elliptica_,) growing in thickets, resembling willow, and bearing a
small pink flower. Crossing it we encamped on the left bank, where we
found a very little grass. Our three remaining steers, being entirely
given out, were killed here. By the boiling point, the elevation of the
river here is 4,060 feet; and latitude, by observation, 36°41' 33". The
stream was running towards the southwest, and appeared to come from a
snowy mountain in the north. It proved to be the _Rio Virgen_--a
tributary to the Colorado. Indians appeared in bands on the hills, but
did not come into camp. For several days we continued our journey up
the river, the bottoms of which were thickly overgrown with various
kinds of brush; and the sandy soil was absolutely covered with the
tracks of _Diggers_, who followed us stealthily, like a band of wolves;
and we had no opportunity to leave behind, even for a few hours, the
tired animals, in order that they might be brought into camp after a
little repose. A horse or mule, left behind, was taken off in a moment.
On the evening of the 8th, having traveled 28 miles up the river from
our first encampment on it, we encamped at a little grass-plat, where a
spring of cool water issued from the bluff. On the opposite side was a
grove of cottonwoods at the mouth of a fork, which here enters the
river. On either side the valley is bounded by ranges of mountains,
everywhere high, rocky, and broken. The caravan road was lost and
scattered in the sandy country, and we had been following an Indian
trail up the river. The hunters the next day were sent out to
reconnoitre, and in the mean time we moved about a mile farther up,
where we found a good little patch of grass. There being only
sufficient grass for the night, the horses were sent with a strong
guard in charge of Tabeau to a neighboring hollow, where they might
pasture during the day; and, to be ready in case the Indians should
make any attempt on the animals, several of the best horses were
picketed at the camp. In a few hours the hunters returned, having found
a convenient ford in the river, and discovered the Spanish trail on the
other side.
I had been engaged in arranging plants; and, fatigued with the heat of
the day, I fell asleep in the afternoon, and did not awake until
sundown. Presently Carson came to me, and reported that Tabeau, who
early in the day had left his post, and, without my knowledge, rode
back to the camp we had left, in search of a lame mule, had not
returned. While we were speaking, a smoke rose suddenly from the
cottonwood grove below, which plainly told us what had befallen him; it
was raised to inform the surrounding Indians that a blow had been
struck, and to tell them to be on their guard. Carson, with several men
well mounted, was instantly sent down the river, but returned in the
night without tidings of the missing man. They went to the camp we had
left, but neither he nor the mule was there. Searching down the river,
they found the tracks of the mule, evidently driven along by Indians,
whose tracks were on each side of those made by the animal. After going
several miles, they came to the mule itself, standing in some bushes,
mortally wounded in the side by an arrow, and left to die, that it
might be afterwards butchered for food. They also found, in another
place, as they were hunting about on the ground for Tabeau's tracks,
something that looked like a little puddle of blood, but which the
darkness prevented them from verifying. With these details they
returned to our camp, and their report saddened all our hearts.
10th.--This morning, as soon as there was light enough to follow
tracks, I set out myself, with Mr. Fitzpatrick and several men, in
search of Tabeau. We went to the spot where the appearance of puddled
blood had been seen; and this, we saw at once, had been the place where
he fell and died. Blood upon the leaves, and beaten-down bushes, showed
that he had got his wound about twenty paces from where he fell, and
that he had struggled for his life. He had probably been shot through
the lungs with an arrow. From the place where he lay and bled, it could
be seen that he had been dragged to the river bank, and thrown into it.
No vestige of what had belonged to him could be found, except a
fragment of his horse equipment. Horse, gun, clothes--all became the
prey of these Arabs of the New World.
Tabeau had been one of our best men, and his unhappy death spread a
gloom over our party. Men, who have gone through such dangers and
sufferings as we had seen, become like brothers, and feel each other's
loss. To defend and avenge each other, is the deep feeling of all. We
wished to avenge his death; but the condition of our horses,
languishing for grass and repose, forbade an expedition into unknown
mountains. We knew the tribe who had done the mischief--the same which
had been insulting our camp. They knew what they deserved, and had the
discretion to show themselves to us no more. The day before, they
infested our camp; now, not one appeared; nor did we ever afterwards
see but one who even belonged to the same tribe, and he at a distance.
Our camp was in a basin below a deep canon--a gap of two thousand feet
deep in the mountain--through which the _Rio Virgen_ passes, and where
no man or beast could follow it. The Spanish trail, which we had lost
in the sands of the basin, was on the opposite side of the river. We
crossed over to it, and followed it northwardly towards a gap which was
visible in the mountain. We approached it by a defile, rendered
difficult for our barefooted animals by the rocks strewed along it; and
here the country changed its character. From the time we entered the
desert, the mountains had been bald and rocky; here they began to be
wooded with cedar and pine, and clusters of trees gave shelter to
birds--a new and welcome sight--which could not have lived in the
desert we had passed.
Descending a long hollow, towards the narrow valley of a stream, we saw
before us a snowy mountain, far beyond which appeared another more
lofty still. Good bunch-grass began to appear on the hill-sides, and
here we found a singular variety of interesting shrubs. The changed
appearance of the country infused among our people a more lively
spirit, which was heightened by finding at evening a halting-place of
very good grass on the clear waters of the _Santa Clara_ fork of the
_Rio Virgen_.
11th.--The morning was cloudy and quite cool, with a shower of
rain--the first we have had since entering the desert, a period of 27
days--and we seem to have entered a different climate, with the usual
weather of the Rocky mountains. Our march to-day was very laborious,
over very broken ground, along the Santa Clara river; but then the
country is no longer so distressingly desolate. The stream is prettily
wooded with sweet cottonwood trees--some of them of large size; and on
the hills, where the nut-pine is often seen, a good and wholesome grass
occurs frequently. This cottonwood, which is now in fruit, is of a
different species from any in Michaux's Sylva. Heavy dark clouds
covered the sky in the evening and a cold wind sprang up, making fires
and overcoats comfortable.
12th.--A little above our encampment the river forked, and we continued
up the right-hand branch, gradually ascending towards the summit of the
mountain. As we rose towards the head of the creek, the snowy mountains
on our right showed out handsomely--high and rugged, with precipices,
and covered with snow for about two thousand feet from their summits
down. Our animals were somewhat repaid for their hard marches by an
excellent camping-ground on the summit of the ridge, which forms here
the dividing chain between the waters of the _Rio Virgen_, which goes
south to the Colorado, and those of Sevier river, flowing northwardly,
and belonging to the Great Basin. We considered ourselves as crossing
the rim of the basin; and, entering it at this point, we found here an
extensive mountain meadow, rich in bunch-grass, and fresh with numerous
springs of clear water, all refreshing and delightful to look upon. It
was, in fact, that _las Vegas de Santa Clara_, which had been so long
presented to us as the terminating point of the desert, and where the
annual caravan from California to New Mexico halted and recruited for
some weeks. It was a very suitable place to recover from the fatigue
and exhaustion of a month's suffering in the hot and sterile desert.
The meadow was about a mile wide, some ten miles long, bordered by
grassy hills and mountains--some of the latter rising two thousand
feet, and white with snow down to the level of the _vegas_. Its
elevation above the sea was 5,280 feet; latitude, by observation, 37°
28' 28", and its distance from where we first struck the Spanish trail
about 400 miles. Counting from the time we reached the desert, and
began to skirt, at our descent from Walker's Pass in the Sierra Nevada,
we had traveled 550 miles, occupying 27 days, in that inhospitable
region. In passing before the Great Caravan, we had the advantage of
finding more grass, but the disadvantage of finding also the marauding
savages, who had gathered down upon the trail, waiting the approach of
that prey. This greatly increased our labors, besides costing us the
life of an excellent man. We had to move all day in a state of watch,
and prepared for combat--scouts and flankers out, a front and rear
division of our men, and baggage-animals in the centre. At night, camp
duty was severe. Those who had toiled all day, had to guard, by turns,
the camp and the horses, all night. Frequently one-third of the whole
party were on guard at once; and nothing but this vigilance saved us
from attack. We were constantly dogged by bands, and even whole tribes
of marauders; and although Tabeau was killed, and our camp infested and
insulted by some, while swarms of them remained on the hills and
mountain-sides, there was manifestly a consultation and calculation
going on, to decide the question of attacking us. Having reached the
resting-place of the _Vegas de Santa Clara_, we had complete relief
from the heat and privations of the desert, and some relaxation from
the severity of camp duty. Some relaxation, and relaxation only--for
camp-guards, horse-guards, and scouts, are indispensable from the time
of leaving the frontiers of Missouri until we return to them.
After we left the _Vegas_, we had the gratification to be joined by the
famous hunter and trapper, Mr. Joseph Walker, whom I have before
mentioned, and who now became our guide. He had left California with
the great caravan; and perceiving, from the signs along the trail, that
there was a party of whites ahead, which he judged to be mine, he
detached himself from the caravan, with eight men, (Americans,) and ran
the gauntlet of the desert robbers, killing two, and getting some of
the horses wounded, and succeeded in overtaking us. Nothing but his
great knowledge of the country, great courage and presence of mind, and
good rifles, could have brought him safe from such a perilous
enterprise.
13th.--We remained one day at this noted place of rest and refreshment;
and, resuming our progress in a northwestwardly direction, we descended
into a broad valley, the water of which is tributary to Sevier lake.
The next day we came in sight of the Wahsatch range of mountains on the
right, white with snow, and here forming the southeast part of the
Great Basin. Sevier lake, upon the waters of which we now were,
belonged to the system of lakes in the eastern part of the Basin--of
which, the Great Salt lake, and its southern limb, the Utah lake, were
the principal--towards the region of which we were now approaching. We
traveled for several days in this direction, within the rim of the
Great Basin, crossing little streams which bore to the left for Sevier
lake; and plainly seeing, by the changed aspect of the country, that we
were entirely clear of the desert, and approaching the regions which
appertained to the system of the Rocky mountains. We met, in this
traverse, a few mounted Utah Indians, in advance of their main body,
watching the approach of the great caravan.
16th.--We reached a small salt lake, about seven miles long and one
broad, at the northern extremity of which we encamped for the night.
This little lake, which well merits its characteristic name, lies
immediately at the base of the Wah-satch range, and nearly opposite a
gap in that chain of mountains through which the Spanish trail passes;
and which, again falling upon the waters of the Colorado, and crossing
that river, proceeds over a mountainous country to Santa Fé.
17th.--After 440 miles of traveling on a trail, which served for a
road, we again found ourselves under the necessity of exploring a track
through the wilderness. The Spanish trail had borne off to the
southeast, crossing the Wah-satch range. Our course led to the
northeast, along the foot of that range, and leaving it on the right.
The mountain presented itself to us under the form of several ridges,
rising one above the other, rocky, and wooded with pine and cedar; the
last ridge covered with snow. Sevier river, flowing northwardly to the
lake of the same name, collects its principal waters from this section
of the Wah-satch chain. We had now entered a region of great pastoral
promise, abounding with fine streams, the rich bunch-grass, soil that
would produce wheat, and indigenous flax growing as if it had been
sown. Consistent with the general character of its bordering mountains,
this fertility of soil and vegetation does not extend far into the
Great Basin. Mr. Joseph Walker, our guide, and who has more knowledge
of these parts than any man I know, informed me that all the country to
the left was unknown to him, and that even the _Digger_ tribes, which
frequented Lake Sevier, could tell him nothing about it.
20th.--We met a band of Utah Indians, headed by a well-known chief, who
had obtained the American or English name of Walker, by which he is
quoted and well known. They were all mounted, armed with rifles, and
used their rifles well. The chief had a fusee, which he carried slung,
in addition to his rifle. They were journeying slowly towards the
Spanish trail, to levy their usual tribute upon the great California
caravan. They were robbers of a higher order than those of the desert.
They conducted their depredations with form, and under the color of
trade and toll, for passing through their country. Instead of attacking
and killing, they affect to purchase--taking the horses they like, and
giving something nominal in return. The chief was quite civil to me. He
was personally acquainted with his namesake, our guide, who made my
name known to him. He knew of my expedition of 1842; and, as tokens of
friendship, and proof that we had met, proposed an interchange of
presents. We had no great store to choose out of; so he gave me a
Mexican blanket, and I gave him a very fine one which I had obtained at
Vancouver.
23d.--We reached Sevier river--the main tributary of the lake of the
same name--which, deflecting from its northern course, here breaks from
the mountains to enter the lake. It was really a fine river, from eight
to twelve feet deep; and after searching in vain for a fordable place,
we made little boats (or rather rafts) out of bulrushes, and ferried
across. These rafts are readily made, and give a good conveyance across
a river. The rushes are bound in bundles, and tied hard; the bundles
are tied down upon poles, as close as they can be pressed, and
fashioned like a boat, in being broader in the middle and pointed at
the ends. The rushes, being tubular and jointed, are light and strong.
The raft swims well, and is shoved along by poles, or paddled, or
pushed and pulled by swimmers, or drawn by ropes. On this occasion, we
used ropes--one at each end--and rapidly drew our little float
backwards and forwards from shore to shore. The horses swam. At our
place of crossing, which was the most northern point of its bend, the
latitude was 39° 22' 19". The banks sustained the character for
fertility and vegetation which we had seen for some days. The name of
this river and lake was an indication of our approach to regions of
which our people had been the explorers. It was probably named after
some American trapper or hunter, and was the first American name we had
met with since leaving the Columbia river. From the Dalles to the point
where we turned across the Sierra Nevada, near 1,000 miles, we heard
Indian names, and the greater part of the distance none; from Nueva
Helvetia (Sacramento) to _las Vegas de Santa Clara_, about 1,000 more,
all were Spanish; from the Mississippi to the Pacific, French and
American or English were intermixed; and this prevalence of names
indicates the national character of the first explorers.
We had here the misfortune to lose one of our people, François Badeau,
who had been with me on both expeditions; during which he had always
been one of my most faithful and efficient men. He was killed in
drawing towards him a gun by the muzzle; the hammer being caught,
discharged the gun, driving the ball through his head. We buried him on
the banks of the river.
Crossing the next day a slight ridge along the river, we entered a
handsome mountain valley covered with fine grass, and directed our
course towards a high snowy peak, at the foot of which lay the Utah
lake. On our right was a bed of high mountains, their summits covered
with snow, constituting the dividing ridge between the Basin waters and
those of the Colorado. At noon we fell in with a party of Utah Indians
coming out of the mountain, and in the afternoon encamped on a
tributary to the lake, which is separated from the waters of the Sevier
by very slight dividing grounds.
Early the next day we came in sight of the lake; and, as we descended
to the broad bottoms of the Spanish fork, three horsemen were seen
galloping towards us, who proved to be Utah Indians--scouts from a
village, which was encamped near the mouth of the river. They were
armed with rifles, and their horses were in good condition. We encamped
near them, on the Spanish fork, which is one of the principal
tributaries to the lake. Finding the Indians troublesome, and desirous
to remain here a day, we removed the next morning farther down the lake
and encamped on a fertile bottom near the foot of the same mountainous
ridge which borders the Great Salt lake, and along which we had
journeyed the previous September. Here the principal plants in bloom
were two, which were remarkable as affording to the Snake Indians--the
one an abundant supply of food, and the other the most useful among the
applications which they use for wounds. These were the kooyah plant,
growing in fields of extraordinary luxuriance, and _convollaria
stellata_, which, from the experience of Mr. Walker, is the best
remedial plant known among these Indians. A few miles below us was
another village of Indians, from which we obtained some fish--among
them a few salmon trout, which were very much inferior in size to those
along the Californian mountains. The season for taking them had not yet
arrived; but the Indians were daily expecting them to come up out of
the lake.
We had now accomplished an object we had in view when leaving the
Dalles of the Columbia in November last: we had reached the Utah lake;
but by a route very different from the one we had intended, and without
sufficient time remaining to make the examinations which we desired. It
is a lake of note in this country, under the dominion of the Utahs, who
resort to it for fish. Its greatest breadth is about fifteen miles,
stretching far to the north, narrowing as it goes, and connecting with
the Great Salt lake. This is the report, which I believe to be correct;
but it is fresh water, while the other is not only salt, but a
saturated solution of salt; and here is a problem which requires to be
solved. It is almost entirely surrounded by mountains, walled on the
north and east by a high and snowy range, which supplies to it a fan of
tributary streams. Among these, the principal river is the
_Timpan-ogo_--signifying Rock river--a name which the rocky grandeur of
its scenery, remarkable even in this country of rugged mountains, has
obtained for it from the Indians. In the Utah language, _og-wah-be_,
the term for river, when coupled with other words in common
conversation, is usually abbreviated to _ogo; timpan_ signifying rock.
It is probable that this river furnished the name which on the older
maps has been generally applied to the Great Salt lake; but for this I
have preferred a name which will be regarded as highly characteristic,
restricting to the river the descriptive term Timpan-ogo, and leaving
for the lake into which it flows the name of the people who reside on
its shores, and by which it is known throughout the country.
The volume of water afforded by the Timpan-ogo is probably equal to
that of the Sevier river; and, at the time of our visit, there was only
one place in the lake-valley at which the Spanish fork was fordable. In
the cove of the mountains along its eastern shore, the lake is bordered
by a plain, where the soil is generally good, and in greater part
fertile; watered by a delta of prettily timbered streams. This would be
an excellent locality for stock-farms; it is generally covered with
good bunch-grass, and would abundantly produce the ordinary grains.
In arriving at the Utah lake, we had completed an immense circuit of
twelve degrees diameter north and south, and ten degrees east and west;
and found ourselves, in May, 1844, on the same sheet of water which we
had left in September, 1843. The Utah is the southern limb of the Great
Salt lake; and thus we had seen that remarkable sheet of water both at
its northern and southern extremity, and were able to fix its position
at these two points. The circuit which we had made, and which had cost
us eight months of time, and 3,500 miles of traveling, had given us a
view of Oregon and of North California from the Rocky mountains to the
Pacific ocean, and of the two principal streams which form bays or
harbors on the coast of that sea. Having completed this circuit, and
being now about to turn the back upon the Pacific slope of our
continent, and to recross the Rocky mountains, it is natural to look
back upon our footsteps, and take some brief view of the leading
features and general structure of the country we had traversed. These
are peculiar and striking, and differ essentially from the Atlantic
side of the country. The mountains all are higher, more numerous, and
more distinctly defined in their ranges and directions; and, what is so
contrary to the natural order of formations, one of these ranges, which
is near the coast, (the Sierra Nevada and the Coast Range,) presents
higher elevations and peaks than any which are to be found in the Rocky
mountains themselves. In our eight months' circuit, we were never out
of sight of snow; and the Sierra Nevada, where we crossed it, was near
2,000 feet higher than the South Pass in the Rocky mountains. In
height, these mountains greatly exceed those of the Atlantic side,
constantly presenting peaks which enter the region of eternal snow; and
some of them volcanic, and in a frequent state of activity. They are
seen at great distances, and guide the traveler in his course.
The course and elevation of these ranges give direction to the rivers
and character to the coast. No great river does, or can, take its rise
below the Cascade and Sierra Nevada range; the distance to the sea is
too short to admit of it. The rivers of the San Francisco bay, which
are the largest after the Columbia, are local to that bay, and lateral
to the coast, having their sources about on a line with the Dalles of
the Columbia, and running each in a valley of its own, between the
Coast range and the Cascade and Sierra Nevada range. The Columbia is
the only river which traverses the whole breadth of the country,
breaking through all the ranges, and entering the sea. Drawing its
waters from a section of ten degrees of latitude in the Rocky
mountains, which are collected into one stream by three main forks
(Lewis's, Clark's, and the North fork) near the centre of the Oregon
valley, this great river thence proceeds by a single channel to the
sea, while its three forks lead each to a pass in the mountains, which
opens the way into the interior of the continent. This fact in relation
to the rivers of this region, gives an immense value to the Columbia.
Its mouth is the only inlet and outlet to and from the sea: its three
forks lead to the passes in the mountains: it is, therefore, the only
line of communication between the Pacific and the interior of North
America; and all operations of war or commerce, of national or social
intercourse, must be conducted upon it. This gives it a value beyond
estimation, and would involve irreparable injury if lost. In this unity
and concentration of its waters, the Pacific side of our continent
differs entirely from the Atlantic side, where the waters of the
Alleghany mountains are dispersed into many rivers, having their
different entrances into the sea, and opening many lines of
communication with the interior.
The Pacific coast is equally different from that of the Atlantic. The
coast of the Atlantic is low and open, indented with numerous bays,
sounds, and river estuaries, accessible everywhere, and opening by many
channels into the heart of the country. The Pacific coast, on the
contrary, is high and compact, with few bays, and but one that opens
into the heart of the country. The immediate coast is what the seamen
call _iron-bound_. A little within, it is skirted by two successive
ranges of mountains, standing as ramparts between the sea and the
interior of the country; and to get through which there is but one
gate, and that narrow and easily defended. This structure of the coast,
backed by these two ranges of mountains, with its concentration and
unity of waters, gives to the country an immense military strength, and
will probably render Oregon the most impregnable country in the world.
Differing so much from the Atlantic side of our continent, in coast,
mountains, and rivers, the Pacific side differs from it in another most
rare and singular feature--that of the Great Interior Basin, of which I
have so often spoken, and the whole form and character of which I was
so anxious to ascertain. Its existence is vouched for by such of the
American traders and hunters as have some knowledge of that region; the
structure of the Sierra Nevada range of mountains requires it to be
there; and my own observations confirm it. Mr. Joseph Walker, who is so
well acquainted in these parts, informed me that, from the Great Salt
lake west, there was a succession of lakes and rivers which have no
outlet to the sea, nor any connection with the Columbia, or with the
Colorado of the Gulf of California. He described some of these lakes as
being large, with numerous streams, and even considerable rivers
falling into them. In fact, all concur in the general report of these
interior rivers and lakes; and, for want of understanding the force and
power of evaporation, which so soon establishes an equilibrium between
the loss and supply of waters, the fable of whirlpools and
subterraneous outlets has gained belief, as the only imaginable way of
carrying off the waters which have no visible discharge. The structure
of the country would require this formation of interior lakes; for the
waters which would collect between the Rocky mountains and the Sierra
Nevada, not being able to cross this formidable barrier, nor to get to
the Columbia or the Colorado, must naturally collect into reservoirs,
each of which would have its little system of streams and rivers to
supply it. This would be the natural effect; and what I saw went to
confirm it. The Great Salt lake is a formation of this kind, and quite
a large one; and having many streams, and one considerable river, 400
or 500 miles long, falling into it. This lake and river I saw and
examined myself; and also saw the Wah-satch and Bear River mountains,
which enclose the waters of the lake on the east, and constitute, in
that quarter, the rim of the Great Basin. Afterwards, along the eastern
base of the Sierra Nevada, where we traveled for 42 days, I saw the
line of lakes and rivers which lie at the foot of that Sierra; and
which Sierra is the western rim of the Basin. In going down Lewis's
fork and the main Columbia, I crossed only inferior streams coming in
from the left, such as could draw their water from a short distance
only; and I often saw the mountains at their heads white with
snow,--which, all accounts said, divided the waters of the _desert_
from those of the Columbia, and which could be no other than the range
of mountains which form the rim of the Basin on its northern side. And
in returning from California along the Spanish trail, as far as the
head of the Santa Clara fork of the Rio Virgen, I crossed only small
streams making their way south to the Colorado, or lost in sand, (as
the Mo-hah-ve;) while to the left, lofty mountains, their summits white
with snow, were often visible, and which must have turned water to the
north as well as to the south, and thus constituted, on this part, the
southern rim of the Basin. At the head of the Santa Clara fork, and in
the Vegas de Santa Clara, we crossed the ridge which parted the two
systems of waters. We entered the Basin at that point, and have
traveled in it ever since; having its southeastern rim (the Wah-satch
mountain) on the right, and crossing the streams which flow down into
it. The existence of the Basin is, therefore, an established fact in my
mind: its extent and contents are yet to be better ascertained. It
cannot be less than 400 or 500 miles each way, and must lie principally
in the Alta California; the demarcation latitude of 42° probably
cutting a segment from the north part of the rim. Of its interior, but
little is known. It is called a _desert_, and, from what I saw of it,
sterility may be its prominent characteristic; but where there is so
much water, there must be some _oasis_. The great river, and the great
lake, reported, may not be equal to the report; but where there is so
much snow, there must be streams; and where there is no outlet, there
must be lakes to hold the accumulated waters, or sands to swallow them
up. In this eastern part of the Basin, containing Sevier, Utah, and the
Great Salt lakes, and the rivers and creeks falling into them, we know
there is good soil and good grass, adapted to civilized settlements. In
the western part, on Salmon Trout river, and some other streams, the
same remark may be made.
The contents of this great Basin are yet to be examined. That it is
peopled, we know; but miserably and sparsely. From all that I heard and
saw, I should say that humanity here appeared in its lowest form, and
in its most elementary state. Dispersed in single families; without
fire-arms; eating seeds and insects; digging roots, (and hence their
name,)--such is the condition of the greater part. Others are a degree
higher, and live in communities upon some lake or river that supplies
fish, and from which they repulse the miserable _Digger_. The rabbit is
the largest animal known in this desert; its flesh affords a little
meat; and their bag-like covering is made of its skins. The wild sage
is their only wood, and here it is of extraordinary size--sometimes a
foot in diameter, and six or eight feet high. It serves for fuel, for
building material, for shelter to the rabbits, and for some sort of
covering for the feet and legs in cold weather. Such are the accounts
of the inhabitants and productions of the Great Basin; and which,
though imperfect, must have some foundation, and excite our desire to
know the whole.
The whole idea of such a desert, and such a people, is a novelty in our
country, and excites Asiatic, not American ideas. Interior basins, with
their own systems of lakes and rivers, and often sterile, are common
enough in Asia; people still in the elementary state of families,
living in deserts, with no other occupation than the mere animal search
for food, may still be seen in that ancient quarter of the globe; but
in America such things are new and strange, unknown and unsuspected,
and discredited when related. But I flatter myself that what is
discovered, though not enough to satisfy curiosity, is sufficient to
excite it, and that subsequent explorations will complete what has been
commenced.
This account of the Great Basin, it will be remembered, belongs to the
Alta California, and has no application to Oregon, whose capabilities
may justify a separate remark. Referring to my journal for particular
descriptions, and for sectional boundaries between good and bad
districts, I can only say, in general and comparative terms, that, in
that branch of agriculture which implies the cultivation of grains and
staple crops, it would be inferior to the Atlantic States, though many
parts are superior for wheat; while in the rearing of flocks and herds
it would claim a high place. Its grazing capabilities are great; and
even in the indigenous grass now there, an element of individual and
national wealth may be found. In fact, the valuable grasses begin
within one hundred and fifty miles of the Missouri frontier, and extend
to the Pacific ocean. East of the Rocky mountains, it is the short
curly grass, on which the buffalo delights to feed, (whence its name of
buffalo,) and which is still good when dry and apparently dead. West of
those mountains it is a larger growth, in clusters, and hence called
bunch-grass, and which has a second or fall growth. Plains and
mountains both exhibit them; and I have seen good pasturage at an
elevation of ten thousand feet. In this spontaneous product the trading
or traveling caravans can find subsistence for their animals; and in
military operations any number of cavalry may be moved, and any number
of cattle may be driven; and thus men and horses be supported on long
expeditions, and even in winter, in the sheltered situations.
Commercially, the value of the Oregon country must be great, washed as
it is by the North Pacific ocean--fronting Asia--producing many of the
elements of commerce--mild and healthy in its climate--and becoming, as
it naturally will, a thoroughfare for the East India and China trade.
Turning our faces once more eastward, on the morning of the 27th we
left the Utah lake, and continued for two days to ascend the Spanish
fork, which is dispersed in numerous branches among very rugged
mountains, which afford few passes, and render a familiar acquaintance
with them necessary to the traveler. The stream can scarcely be said to
have a valley, the mountains rising often abruptly from the water's
edge; but a good trail facilitated our traveling, and there were
frequent bottoms, covered with excellent grass. The streams are
prettily and variously wooded; and everywhere the mountain shows grass
and timber.
At our encampment on the evening of the 28th, near the head of one of
the branches we had ascended, strata of bituminous limestone were
displayed in an escarpment on the river bluffs, in which were contained
a variety of fossil shells of new species.
It will be remembered, that in crossing this ridge about 120 miles to
the northward in August last, strata of fossiliferous rock were
discovered, which have been referred to the oolitic period; it is
probable that these rocks also belong to the same formation.
A few miles from this encampment we reached the bed of the stream, and
crossing, by an open and easy pass, the dividing ridge which separates
the waters of the Great Basin from those of the Colorado, we reached
the head branches of one of its larger tributaries, which, from the
decided color of its waters, has received the name of White river. The
snows of the mountains were now beginning to melt, and all the little
rivulets were running by in rivers, and rapidly becoming difficult to
ford. Continuing a few miles up a branch of White river, we crossed a
dividing ridge between its waters and those of _Uintah_. The approach
to the pass, which is the best known to Mr. Walker, was somewhat
difficult for packs, and impracticable for wagons--all the streams
being shut in by narrow ravines, and the narrow trail along the steep
hill-sides allowing the passage of only one animal at a time. From the
summit we had a fine view of the snowy Bear River range, and there were
still remaining beds of snow on the cold sides of the hills near the
pass. We descended by a narrow ravine, in which was rapidly gathered a
little branch of the Uintah, and halted to noon about 1,500 feet below
the pass, at an elevation, by the boiling point, of 6,900 feet above
the sea.
The next day we descended along the river, and about noon reached a
point where three forks come together. Fording one of these with some
difficulty, we continued up the middle branch, which, from the color of
its waters, is named the Red river. The few passes, and extremely
rugged nature of the country, give to it great strength, and secure the
Utahs from the intrusion of their enemies. Crossing in the afternoon a
somewhat broken highland, covered in places with fine grasses, and with
cedar on the hill-sides, we encamped at evening on another tributary to
the _Uintah_, called the _Duchesne_ fork. The water was very clear, the
stream not being yet swollen by the melting snows, and we forded it
without any difficulty. It is a considerable branch, being spread out
by islands, the largest arm being about a hundred feet wide, and the
name it bears is probably that of some old French trapper.
The next day we continued down the river, which we were twice obliged
to cross; and, the water having risen during the night, it was almost
everywhere too deep to be forded. After traveling about sixteen miles,
we encamped again on the left bank.
I obtained here an occultation of _Scorpii_ at the dark limb of the
moon, which gives for the longitude of the place 112° 18' 30", and the
latitude 40° 18' 53".