Alarming News--Fremont Presses Forward and is Not Molested--Arrival at
South Pass--Fremont's Account of the Ascent of the Highest Peak of
the Rocky Mountains--The Return to Fort Laramie--Carson Starts for New
Mexico--End of Fremont's First Exploring Expedition.
Alarming news awaited Fremont at Fort Laramie. A number of trappers
informed them that the Sioux, through whose country their route lay,
were excited to exasperation by several recent conflicts with hunters
in which the red men were worsted. The Sioux warriors were gathered in
large numbers and would attack any white men who ventured beyond the
fort. They had already massacred a number and it was impossible for
Fremont and his party to get through without a battle in which they were
likely to be overwhelmed.
Carson looked upon the situation as so serious that he made his will and
left it at the fort. When consulted by Fremont, he said he considered
the prospect full of peril, but he was ready to go the moment required.
The commander was confident the danger was greatly exaggerated, and,
without much misgiving, he resumed his journey westward, following up
the north fork of the Platte. Game and water were found, and, at the end
of three weeks, they arrived at the South Pass of the Rocky Mountains
without having exchanged a shot with a red man on the way.
They had now reached their destination and Lieutenant Fremont at once
began his observations. When they were concluded he undertook the
ascent of the highest mountain peak. The situation was anything but
encouraging: they were in the country of the hostile Blackfeet, some of
whom were observed hovering in the vicinity; men and animals were worn
out and it was hard to procure game. But the ascent was begun, Fremont
taking fourteen men with him. Those who were left in camp erected a rude
but strong fort, behind which they were confident they could sustain
themselves against any force the Indians were likely to muster.
The ascent of the mountain was laborious in the extreme. Kit Carson
climbed to one of the loftiest peaks from which he gained a full view of
the very highest elevation. The next day Fremont sent Carson and several
of the men back. He unquestionably intended that no one should share
with him the honor of climbing the most elevated point. This exploit is
worthy of description at the hands of the Pathfinder himself.
"At intervals we reached places where a number of springs gushed from
the rocks, and about 1,800 feet above the lakes came to the snow line.
From this point our progress was uninterrupted climbing. Hitherto, I had
worn a pair of thick moccasins, with soles of parfleche but here I put
on a light thin pair, which I had brought for the purpose, as now the
use of our toes became necessary to a further advance. I availed myself
of a sort of comb of the mountain, which stood against the wall like
a buttress, and which the wind and solar radiation, joined to the
steepness of the smooth rock, had kept almost entirely free from snow.
Up this I made my way rapidly. Our cautious method of advancing in
the outset had spared my strength; and, with the exception of a slight
disposition to headache, I felt no remains of yesterday's illness. In a
few minutes we reached a point where the buttress was overhanging, and
there was no other way of surmounting the difficulty than by passing
around one side of it, which was the face of a vertical precipice of
several hundred feet."
Parfleche is the name given to buffalo hide. The Indian women prepare it
by scraping and drying. It is exceedingly tough and hard, and receives
its name from the circumstance that it cannot be pierced by arrows or
spears.
The entire dress of Fremont and his party, on their ascent to the "top
of America," consisted of a blue flannel shirt, free and open at the
neck, the collar turning down over a black silk handkerchief tied
loosely, blue cloth pantaloons, a slouched broad brimmed hat, and
moccasins as above described. It was well adapted to climbing, quite
light, and at the same time warm, and every way comfortable.
"Putting hands and feet in the crevices between the blocks, I succeeded
in getting over it, and when I reached the top, found my companions in a
small valley below. Descending to them, we continued climbing, and in a
short time reached the crest. I sprang upon the summit and another step
would have precipitated me into an immense snow field five hundred feet
below. To the edge of this field was a sheer icy precipice; and then,
with a gradual fall, the field sloped off for about a mile, until it
struck the foot of another lower ridge. I stood on a narrow crest about
three feet in width, with an inclination of about 20 degrees N. 51
degrees E. As soon as I had gratified the first feelings of curiosity I
descended, and each man ascended in turn, for I would only allow one
at a time to mount the unstable and precarious slab, which it seemed a
breath would hurl into the abyss below. We mounted the barometer in
the snow of the summit, and, fixing a ramrod in a crevice, unfurled the
national flag, to wave in the breeze, where never flag waved before.
During our morning's ascent, we met no sign of animal life, except a
small bird having the appearance of a sparrow. A stillness the most
profound, and a terrible solitude forced themselves constantly on the
mind as the great features of the place. Here, on the summit, where
the stillness was absolute, unbroken by any sound, and the solitude
complete, we thought ourselves beyond the region of animated life; but
while we were sitting on the rock, a solitary bee (bombus terrestris,
the humble bee) came winging his flight from the eastern valley, and lit
on the knee of one of the men.
"Around us the whole scene had one main striking feature, which was that
of terrible convulsion. Parallel to its length, the ridge was split
into chasms and fissures, between which rose the thin, lofty walls,
terminated with slender minarets and columns, which are correctly
represented in the view from the camp on Island Lake. According to the
barometer, the little crest of the wall on which we stood was three
thousand five hundred and seventy feet above that place, and two
thousand seven hundred and eighty feet above the little lakes at the
bottom, immediately at our feet.
"Our camp at the Two Hills (an astronomical station) bore south 30 east,
which, with a bearing afterward obtained from a fixed position, enabled
us to locate the peak. The bearing of the Trois Tetons was north 50
degrees west, and the direction of the central ridge of the Wind River
Mountains south 39 degrees east. The summit rock was gneiss. Sienite
and feldspar succeeded in our descent to the snow line, where we found
a felspathic granite. I had remarked that the noise produced by the
explosion of our pistols had the usual degree of loudness, but was not
in the least prolonged, expiring almost instantaneously. Having now made
what observations our means afforded, we proceeded to descend. We had
accomplished an object of laudable ambition, and beyond the strict
order of our instructions. We had climbed the loftiest peak of the Rocky
Mountains and looked down upon the snow a thousand feet below, and,
standing where human foot had never stood before, felt the exultation of
first explorers. It was about two o'clock when we left the summit; and
when we reached the bottom the sun had already sunk behind the wall, and
the day was drawing to a close. It would have been pleasant to linger
here and on the summit longer; but we hurried away as rapidly as the
ground would permit, for it was an object to regain our party as soon as
possible, not knowing what accident the next hour might bring forth."
This mountain which bears the name of Fremont's Peak, in honor of the
great Pathfinder, was found to be 13,570 feet above the Gulf of Mexico.
The object of the expedition was accomplished and preparations were made
for the return to the states. No accident worth the mention had befallen
the explorers, and the Blackfeet, from whom so much was feared, did not
molest them. It may have been that when their scouts reconnoitred the
camp, they found the barricades so strong and the garrison so watchful
that they decided it would be too costly to make an attack upon them.
It is not impossible that some one or more of them recognized the daring
mountaineer who more than once years before had given their warriors
such severe defeat and punishment. If such was the truth, we cannot but
respect the discretion they showed.
Fort Laramie was reached in the month of September 1842. There as Kit
Carson's labors were ended, he bade his commander and friends goodbye
and started for New Mexico. Fremont and his men reached the states in
safety and thus ended his first exploring expedition.