Palmer's Journal of Travels Over the Rocky Mountains, 1845-1846

Early Western Travels We followed this trail for five or six miles, when it wound up a grassy ridge to the left—followed it up to where it connected with the main ridge; this we followed up for a mile, when the grass disappeared, and we came to a ridge entirely destitute of vegetation. It appeared to be sand and gravel, or rather, decomposed material from sandstone crumbled to pieces. Before reaching this barren ridge, we met a party of those who had started with the loose cattle, hunting for some which had strayed off. They informed us that they had lost about {69} one-third of their cattle, and were then encamped on the west side of Mount Hood. We determined to lodge with them, and took the trail over the mountain. In the mean time, the cattle-drovers had found a few head, and traveled with us to their camp. Soon after ascending and winding round this barren ridge, we crossed a ravine, one or two rods in width, upon the snow, which terminated a short distance below the trail, and extended up to the top of Mount Hood. We then went around the mountain for about two miles, crossing several strips of snow, until we came to a deep kanyon or gulf, cut out by the wash from the mountain above us. A precipitate cliff of rocks, at the head, prevented a passage around it. The hills were of the same material as that we had been traveling over, and were very steep. I judged the ravine to be three thousand feet deep. The manner of descending is to turn directly to the right, go zigzag for about one hundred yards, then turn short round, and go zigzag until you come under the place where you started from; then to the right, and so on, until you reach the base. In the bottom is a rapid stream, filled with sand. After crossing, we ascended in the same manner, went round the point of a ridge, where we struck another ravine; the sides of this were covered with grass and whortleberry bushes. In this ravine we found the camp of our friends. We reached them about dark; the wind blew a gale, and it was quite cold. October 12. After taking some refreshment, we ascended the mountain, intending to head the deep ravine, in order to ascertain whether there was any gap in the mountain south of us, which would admit of a pass. From this peak, we overlooked the whole of the mountains. We followed up the grassy ridge for one mile and a half, when it became barren. My two friends began to lag behind, and show signs of fatigue; they finally stopped, and contended that we could not get round the head of the ravine, and that it was useless to attempt an ascent. But I was of a different opinion, and wished to go on. They consented, and followed for half a mile, when they sat down, and requested me to go up to the ledge, and, if we could effect a passage up and get round it, to give them a signal. I did so, and found that by climbing up a cliff of snow and ice, for about forty feet, but not so steep but that by getting upon one cliff, and cutting holes to stand in and hold on by, it could be ascended. I gave the signal, and they came up. In the {70} mean time, I had cut and carved my way up the cliff, and when up to the top was forced to admit that it was something of an undertaking; but as I had arrived safely at the top of the cliff, I doubted not but they could accomplish the same task, and as my moccasins were worn out, and the soles of my feet exposed to the snow, I was disposed to be traveling, and so left them to get up the best way they could. After proceeding about one mile upon the snow, continually winding up, I began to despair of seeing my companions. I came to where a few detached pieces of rock had fallen from the ledge above and rolled down upon the ice and snow, (for the whole mass is more like ice than snow;) I clambered upon one of these, and waited half an hour. I then rolled stones down the mountain for half an hour; but as I could see nothing of my two friends, I began to suspect that they had gone back, and crossed in the trail. I then went round to the southeast side, continually ascending, and taking an observation of the country south, and was fully of the opinion that we could find a passage through. [112] The waters of this deep ravine, and of numerous ravines to the northwest, as well as the southwest, form the heads of Big Sandy and Quicksand rivers, which empty into the Columbia, about twenty-five or thirty miles below the Cascade Falls. [113] I could see down this stream some twelve or fifteen miles, where the view was obstructed by a high range coming round from the northwest side, connecting by a low gap with some of the spurs from this peak. All these streams were running through such deep chasms, that it was impossible to pass them with teams. To the south, were two ranges of mountains, connecting by a low gap with this peak, and winding round until they terminated near Big Sandy. I observed that a stream, heading near the base of this peak and running southeast {71} for several miles, there appeared to turn to the west. This I judged to be the head waters of Clackamis, which empties into the Willamette, near Oregon city; but the view was hid by a high range of mountains putting down in that direction. [114] A low gap seemed to connect this stream, or some other, heading in this high range, with the low bottoms immediately under the base of this peak. I was of the opinion that a pass might be found between this peak and the first range of mountains, by digging down some of the gravel hills; and if not, there would be a chance of passing between the first and second ranges, through this gap to the branch of Clackamis; or, by taking some of the ranges of mountains and following them down, could reach the open ground near the Willamette, as there appeared to be spurs extending in that direction. I could also see a low gap in the direction from where we crossed the small branch, coming up the creek on the 11th, towards several small prairies south of us. It appeared, that if we could get a road opened to that place, our cattle could range about these prairies until we could find a passage for the remainder of the way. The day was getting far advanced, and we had no provisions, save each of us a small biscuit; and knowing that we had at least twenty-five miles to travel, before reaching those working on the road, I hastened down the mountain. I had no difficulty in finding a passage down; but I saw some deep ravines and crevices in the ice which alarmed me, as I was compelled to travel over them. The snow and ice had melted underneath, and in many places had left but a thin shell upon the surface; some of them had fallen in and presented hideous looking caverns. I was soon out of danger, and upon the east side of the deep ravine I saw my two friends slowly winding their way up the mountain. They had gone to the foot of the ledge, and as they wore boots, and were much fatigued, they abandoned the trip, and returned down the mountain to the trail, where I joined them. We there rested awhile, and struck our course for one of the prairies which we had seen from the mountain. On our way we came to a beautiful spring of water, surrounded with fine timber; the ground was covered with whortle berry bushes, and many of them hanging full of fruit, we halted, ate our biscuit, gathered berries, and then proceeded down the mountain. After traveling about ten miles, we reached the prairie. It was covered with grass, and was very wet. A red sediment {72} of about two inches in depth covered the surface of the ground in the grass, such as is found around mineral springs. A beautiful clear stream of water was running through the prairie, in a southeast direction. We had seen a prairie about two miles further south, much larger than this, which we supposed to be dry. We now took our course for camp, intending to strike through the gap to the mouth of the small branch; but we failed in finding the right shute , and came out into the bottom, three miles above where we had first struck the cattle or Indian trail. We then took down the bottom, and arrived in camp about eleven o'clock at night; and although not often tired, I was willing to acknowledge that I was near being so. I certainly was hungry, but my condition was so much better than that of my two friends, that I could not murmur. Our party had worked the road up to the small branch, where they were encamped. On the morning of the 13th of October we held a consultation, and determined upon the future movements of the company. The party designated to bring us provisions had performed that service; but the amount of our provisions was nearly exhausted, and many of the party had no means of procuring more. Some of them began to despair of getting through this season. Those left with the camp were unable to keep the cattle together, and a number of them had been lost. The Indians had stolen several horses, and a variety of mishaps occurred, such as would necessarily follow from a company so long remaining in one position. They were now on a small creek, five miles from Stony hill, which we called Camp creek, and near the timber. It was impossible to keep more than one third of the men working at the road; the remainder were needed to attend the camp and pack provisions. It was determined to send a party and view out the road, through to the open country, near the mouth of Clackamis, whilst the others were to open the road as far as the big prairie; a number sufficient to bring up the teams and loose cattle, (for a number of families with their cattle had joined since ours left, and portions of our company did not send their loose cattle,) to a grassy prairie in this bottom, and near the mouth of this creek, as the time required to pack provisions to those working on the road would be saved. All being arranged, the next thing was to designate the persons to go ahead of the party, and if found practicable to return with provisions and help; or at all events to ascertain whether the route were practicable. {73} It was determined that I should undertake this trip. I asked only one man to accompany me. We took our blankets, a limited supply of provisions, and one light axe, and at eight o'clock in the morning set out. I was satisfied that the creek which we were then on, headed in the low gap, seen from Mount Hood; and the party were to open the road up this branch. But as I was to precede them, I passed up this creek for about eight or ten miles, when I discovered the low gap, went through it, and at noon arrived at the wet prairie, which we had visited the day before. The route was practicable, but would require great labor to remove the timber, and cut out the underbrush. We halted at the creek and took some refreshment; we then struck for the low gap between the first range of mountains running west, and the base of Mount Hood, and traveled through swamps, small prairies, brush, and heavy timber for about twelve miles, when we found the labor necessary to open a wagon road in this direction, to be greater than we could possibly bestow upon it before the rainy season. We determined to try some other route, retraced our steps six or seven miles, and then bore to the right, around the base of the mountain, when we struck into an old Indian trail. This we followed for seven or eight miles, through the gap I had seen from Mount Hood. It is a rolling bottom of about four or five miles in width, and extending from the base of Mount Hood south for ten or twelve miles. The trail wound around the mountain, but as its course was about that we wished to travel, we followed it until it ran out at the top of the mountain. We then took the ridge west, and traveled until dark; but as the moon shone bright, and the timber was not very thick, we turned an angle down the mountain to the left, to procure water. We traveled about three miles, and struck upon a small running branch; this we followed, until owing to the darkness, we were compelled to encamp, much fatigued, and somewhat disheartened. October 14. At daylight we were on the way. My moccasins, which the night before had received a pair of soles, in yesterday's tramp had given way, and in traveling after night my feet had been badly snagged, so that I was in poor plight for walking; but as there was no alternative, we started down the mountain, and after traveling a few miles I felt quite well and was able to take the lead. We traveled about three miles, when we struck a large creek which had a very rapid current, over a stony bottom. I had hoped to find a bottom of sufficient {74} width to admit of a wagon road, but after following down this stream six miles, I was satisfied that it would not do to attempt it this season. The weather, which had been entirely clear for months, had through the night began to cloud up; and in the morning the birds, squirrels, and every thing around, seemed to indicate the approach of a storm. I began for the first time to falter, and was at a stand to know what course to pursue. I had understood that the rainy season commenced in October, and that the streams rose to an alarming height, and I was sensible that if we crossed the branch of the Deshutes, which headed in Mount Hood, and the rainy season set in, we could not get back, and to get forward would be equally impossible; so that in either event starvation would be the result. And as I had been very active in inducing others to embark in the enterprise, my conscience would not allow me to go on and thus endanger so many families. But to go back, and state to them the difficulties to be encountered, and the necessity of taking some other course, seemed to be my duty. I therefore resolved to return, and recommend selecting some suitable place for a permanent camp, build a cabin, put in such effects as we could not pack out, and leave our wagons and effects in the charge of some persons until we could return the next season, unencumbered with our families and cattle, and finish the road;—or otherwise to return to the Dalles with our teams, where we could leave our baggage in charge of the missionaries, and then descend the Columbia. And when my mind was fully made up, we were not long in carrying it into execution. We accordingly ascended the mountain, as it was better traveling than in the bottom. The distance to the summit was about four miles, and the way was sometimes so steep as to render it necessary to pull up by the bushes. We then traveled east until we reached the eastern point of this mountain, and descended to the bottom, the base of which we had traversed the day before. We then struck for the trail, soon found it, and followed it until it led us to the southern end of the wet prairie. We then struck for the lower gap in the direction of the camp, crossed over and descended the branch to near its mouth, where we found four of our company clearing the road, the remainder having returned to Camp creek for teams. But as we had traveled about fifty miles this day, I was unable to reach the camp. October 15. This morning we all started for camp, carrying {75} with us our tools and provisions. We reached camp about two P.M. Many of our cattle could not be found, but before night nearly all were brought into camp. The whole matter was then laid before the company, when it was agreed that we should remove over to the bottom, near the small creek, and if the weather was unfavorable, leave our baggage and wagons, and pack out the families as soon as possible. But as some were out of provisions, it was important that a messenger should be sent on ahead for provisions, and horses to assist in packing out. Mr. Buffum, and lady, concluded to pack out what articles they could, and leave a man to take charge of the teams and cattle, until he returned with other horses. He kindly furnished me with one of his horses to ride to the settlement. He also supplied the wife of Mr. Thompson with a horse. Mr. Barlow and Mr. Rector made a proposition to continue working the road until the party could go to and return from the valley; they agreeing to insure the safety of the wagons, if compelled to remain through the winter, by being paid a certain per cent. upon the valuation. This proposition was thought reasonable by some, and it was partially agreed to. And as there were some who had no horses with which to pack out their families, they started on foot for the valley, designing to look out a road as they passed along. Some men in the mean time were to remain with the camp, which as above stated was to be removed to the small branch on Shutes' fork; and those who intended pushing out at once, could follow up it to the Indian trail. This all being agreed upon, arrangements were made accordingly. October 16. The morning was lowering, with every indication of rain. Messrs. Barlow and Rector started on the trip. [115] All hands were making arrangements for moving the camp. In the mean time Mr. Buffum and his lady, and Mrs. Thompson, were ready to start. [116] I joined them, and we again set out for the settlement. We had traveled about two miles when it commenced raining, and continued raining slightly all day. We encamped on the bottom of Shutes' fork, near the small branch. It rained nearly all night. On the morning of the 17th October after our horses had filled themselves, we packed up and started. It was still raining. We followed up this bottom to the trail, and then pursued the trail over Mount Hood. Whilst going over this mountain the rain poured down in torrents, it was foggy, and very cold. We arrived at the deep ravine at about four P.M., {76} and before we ascended the opposite bank it was dark; but we felt our way over the ridge, and round the point to the grassy run. Here was grazing for our tired horses, and we dismounted. Upon the side of the mountain, where were a few scattering trees, we found some limbs and sticks, with which we succeeded in getting a little fire. We then found a few sticks and constructed a tent, covering it with blankets, which protected our baggage and the two women. Mr. Buffum and myself stood shivering in the rain around the fire, and when daylight appeared, it gave us an opportunity to look at each others' lank visages. Our horses were shivering with the cold, the rain had put out our fire, and it seemed as though every thing had combined to render us miserable. After driving our horses round awhile, they commenced eating; but we had very little to eat, and were not troubled much in cooking it. October 18. As soon as our horses had satisfied themselves we packed up and ascended the mountain over the ridge, and for two miles winding around up and down over a rough surface covered with grass. The rain was falling in torrents, and it was so foggy that we could barely see the trail. We at length went down a ridge two miles, when we became bewildered in the thick bushes. The trail had entirely disappeared. We could go no farther. The two women sat upon their horses in the rain, whilst I went back to search for the right trail; Buffum endeavoring to make his way down the mountain. I rambled about two miles up the mountain, where I found the right trail, and immediately returned to inform them of it. Buffum had returned, and of course had not found the trail. We then ascended the mountain to the trail, when a breeze sprung up and cleared away the fog. We could then follow the trail. We soon saw a large band of cattle coming up the mountain, and in a short time met a party of men following them. They had started from the Dalles about eight days before, and encamped that night four or five miles below, and as it was a barren spot, their cattle had strayed to the mountain to get grass. But what was very gratifying, they informed us that a party of men from Oregon city, with provisions for our company had encamped with them, and were then at their camp. We hastened down the mountain, and in a few hours arrived at the camp. But imagine our feelings when we learned that those having provisions for us, had despaired of finding us, and {77} having already been out longer than was expected, had returned to the settlement, carrying with them all the provisions, save what they had distributed to these men. We were wet, cold, and hungry, and would not be likely to overtake them. We prevailed upon one of the men whom we found at the camp, to mount one of our horses, and follow them. He was absent about ten minutes, when he returned and informed us that they were coming. They soon made their appearance. This revived us, and for awhile we forgot that we were wet and cold. They had gone about six miles back, when some good spirit induced them to return to camp, and make one more effort to find us. The camp was half a mile from the creek, and we had nothing but two small coffee-pots, and a few tin cups, to carry water in; but this was trifling, as the rain was still pouring down upon us. We speedily made a good fire, and set to work making a tent, which we soon accomplished, and the two women prepared us a good supper of bread and coffee. It was a rainy night, but we were as comfortable as the circumstances would admit. October 19. After breakfast, the drovers left us; and as the party which had brought us provisions had been longer out than had been contemplated, Mr. Stewart and Mr. Gilmore wished to return. It was determined that Mr. Buffum, the two females, Mr. Stewart, and Mr. N. Gilmore, should go on to the settlement, and that Mr. C. Gilmore, and the Indian who had been sent along to assist in driving the horses, and myself, should hasten on with the provisions to the camp. We were soon on the way, and climbing up the mountain. The horses were heavily loaded, and in many places the mountain was very slippery, and of course we had great difficulty in getting along. It was still raining heavily, and the fog so thick that a person could not see more than fifteen feet around. We traveled about two miles up the mountain, when we found that whilst it had been raining in the valley it had been snowing on the mountain. The trail was so covered with snow that it was difficult to find it, and, to increase our difficulty, the Indian refused to go any farther. We showed him the whip, which increased his speed a little, but he soon forgot it, was very sulky, and would not assist in driving. We at length arrived at the deep ravine; here there was no snow, and we passed it without serious difficulty. Two of our packs coming off, and rolling down the hill, was the only serious trouble that we had. When we ascended the hill to {78} the eastern side of the gulf, we found the snow much deeper than upon the western side; besides, it had drifted, and rendered the passage over the strip of the old snow somewhat dangerous, as in many places the action of the water had melted the snow upon the under side, and left a thin shell over the surface, and in some places holes had melted through. We were in danger of falling into one of these pits. Coming to one of these ravines where the snow had drifted very much, I dismounted in order to pick a trail through, but before this was completed, our horses started down the bank. I had discovered two of these pits, and ran to head the horses and turn them; but my riding horse started to run, and went directly between the two pits; his weight jarred the crust loose, and it fell in, presenting a chasm of some twenty-five or thirty feet in depth, but the horse, being upon the run, made his way across the pit. The other horses, hearing the noise and seeing the pits before them, turned higher up, where the snow and ice were thicker, and all reached the opposite side in safety. Our Indian friend now stopped, and endeavored to turn the horses back, but two to one was an uneven game, and it was played to his disadvantage. He wanted an additional blanket; this I promised him, and he consented to go on. We soon met two Indians, on their way from the Dalles to Oregon city; our Indian conversed with them awhile, and then informed us of his intention to return with them. Whilst parleying with him, a party of men from our camp came up the mountain with their cattle; they had driven their teams to the small branch of the De Shutes, twelve miles below the mountain, where they had left the families, and started out with their cattle before the stream should get too high to cross. Whilst we were conversing with these men, our Indian had succeeded in getting one loose horse, and the one which he was riding, so far from the band of pack-horses that, in the fog, we could not see him, and he returned to the settlement with the two Indians we had just met. Our horses were very troublesome to drive, as they had ate nothing for thirty-six hours; but we succeeded in getting them over the snow, and down to the grassy ridge, where we stopped for the night. My friend Gilmore shouldered a bag of flour, carried it half a mile down the mountain to a running branch, opened the sack, poured in water, and mixed up bread. In the mean time, I had built a fire. We wrapped the dough around sticks and baked it before the fire, heated water in our {79} tin cups and made a good dish of tea, and passed a very comfortable night. It had ceased raining before sunset, and the morning was clear and pleasant; we forgot the past, and looked forward to a bright future. October 20. At 8 o'clock we packed up, took the trail down the mountain to the gravelly bottom, and then down the creek to the wagon-camp, which we reached at 3 P. M.; and if we had not before forgotten our troubles, we certainly should have done so upon arriving at camp. Several families were entirely out of provisions, others were nearly so, and all were expecting to rely upon their poor famished cattle. True, this would have prevented starvation; but it would have been meagre diet, and there was no certainty of having cattle long, as there was but little grass. A happier set of beings I never saw, and the thanks bestowed upon us by these families would have compensated for no little toil and hardship. They were supplied with an amount of provisions sufficient to last them until they could reach the settlements. After waiting one day, Mr. Gilmore left the camp for the settlement, taking with him three families; others started about the same time, and in a few days all but three families had departed. These were Mr. Barlow's, Mr. Rector's, and Mr. Caplinger's, [117] all of whom had gone on to the settlement for horses. Ten men yet remained at camp, and, after selecting a suitable place for our wagon-yard, we erected a cabin for the use of those who were to remain through the winter, and to stow away such of our effects as we could not pack out. This being done, nothing remained but to await the return of those who had gone for pack horses. We improved the time in hunting and gathering berries, until the 25th, when four of us, loaded with heavy packs, started on foot for the valley of the Willamette. But before entering upon this trip, I will state by what means the timely assistance afforded us in the way of provisions was effected. The first party starting for the settlement from the Dalles, after we had determined to take the mountain route, carried the news to Oregon city that we were attempting a passage across the Cascade mountains, and that we should need provisions. The good people of that place immediately raised by donation about eleven hundred pounds of flour, over one hundred pounds of sugar, some tea, &c., hired horses, and the Messrs. Gilmore and Mr. Stewart volunteered to bring these articles to us. [118] The only expense we were asked to defray was the hire of the horses. They {80} belonged to an Indian chief, and of course he had to be paid. The hire was about forty dollars, which brought the flour to about four dollars per hundred, as there were about one thousand pounds when they arrived. Those who had the means paid at once, and those who were unable to pay gave their due bills. Many of the families constructed packsaddles and put them on oxen, and, in one instance, a feather bed was rolled up and put upon an ox; but the animal did not seem to like his load, and ran into the woods, scattering the feathers in every direction: he was finally secured, but not until the bed was ruined. In most cases, the oxen performed well. In the afternoon of the 25th October, accompanied by Messrs. Creighton, Farwell, and Buckley, I again started to the valley. We had traveled but a short distance when we met Barlow and Rector, who had been to the settlement. They had some horses, and expected others in a short time. They had induced a few families whom they met near Mount Hood to return with them, and try their chance back to the Dalles; but, after waiting one day, they concluded to try the mountain trip again. We traveled up the bottom to the trail, where we encamped; about this time, it commenced raining, which continued through the night. October 26. This morning at eight o'clock, we were on the way. It was rainy, and disagreeable traveling. We followed the trail over the main part of the mountain, when we overtook several families, who had left us on the twenty-second. Two of the families had encamped the night before in the bottom of the deep ravine; night overtook them, and they were compelled to camp, without fuel, or grass for cattle or horses. Water they had in plenty, for it was pouring down upon them all the night. One of their horses broke loose, and getting to the provision sack, destroyed the whole contents. There were nine persons in the two families, four of them small children, and it was about eighty miles to the nearest settlement. The children, as well as the grown people, were nearly barefoot, and poorly clad. Their names were Powell and Senters. Another family by the name of Hood, had succeeded in getting [119] up the gravelly hill, and finding grass for their animals, and a little fuel, had shared their scanty supply with these two families, and when we overtook them they were all encamped near each other. We gave them about half of our provisions, and encamped near them. Mr. Hood kindly furnished us with a {81} wagon cover, with which we constructed a tent, under which we rested for the night. October 27. The two families who had lost their provisions succeeded in finding a heifer that belonged to one of the companies traveling in advance of us. In rambling upon the rocky cliffs above the trail for grass, it had fallen down the ledge, and was so crippled as not to be able to travel. The owners had left it, and as the animal was in good condition, it was slaughtered and the meat cured. After traveling four miles through the fresh snow, (which had fallen about four inches deep during the night,) we came to where the trail turned down to the Sandy. We were glad to get out of the snow, as we wore moccasins, and the bottoms being worn off, our feet were exposed. Two miles brought us to where we left the Sandy, and near the place where we met the party with provisions; here we met Mr. Buffum, Mr. Lock, and a Mr. Smith, [120] with fourteen pack-horses, going for effects to Fort Deposit—the name which we had given our wagon camp. The numerous herds of cattle which had passed along had so ate up the grass and bushes, that it was with great difficulty the horses could procure a sufficiency to sustain life. Among the rest, was a horse for me; and as I had a few articles at the fort, Mr. Buffum was to take the horse along and pack them out. Two of his horses were so starved as to be unable to climb the mountains, and we took them back with us. The weather by this time had cleared up; we separated, and each party took its way. A short distance below this, our trail united with one which starting from the Dalles, runs north of Mount Hood, and until this season was the only trail traveled by the whites. We proceeded down the Sandy, crossing it several times, through thickets of spruce and alder, until we arrived at the forks, which were about fifteen miles from the base of Mount Hood. The bottom of the Sandy is similar to the branch of De Shutes which we ascended; but in most cases the gravel and stones are covered with moss; portions of it are entirely destitute of vegetation. The mountains are very high, and are mostly covered with timber. At a few points are ledges of grayish rock, but the greater part of the mountain is composed of sand and gravel; it is much cut up by deep ravines, or kanyons. The trail is sometimes very difficult to follow, on account of the brush and logs; about our camp are a few bunches of {82} brakes, which the horses eat greedily. The stream coming in from the southeast is the one which I followed down on the 14th, and from appearance I came within five miles of the forks. The bottom in this vicinity is more than a mile wide, and is covered with spruce, hemlock and alder, with a variety of small bushes. October 28. We started early, and after having traveled several miles, found a patch of good grass, where we halted our horses for an hour. We then traveled on, crossing the Sandy three times. This is a rapid stream; the water is cold, and the bottom very stony. We made about fifteen or sixteen miles only, as we could not get our horses along faster. We struck into a road recently opened for the passage of wagons. Mr. Taylor, from Ohio, who had left our company with his family and cattle on the 7th, had arrived safely in the valley, and had procured a party of men and had sent them into the mountains to meet us at the crossing of Sandy. [121] They had come up this far, and commenced cutting the road toward the settlements. After traveling this road five or six miles we came upon their camp, where we again found something to eat; our provisions having been all consumed. The road here runs through a flat or bottom of several miles in width, and extending ten or twelve miles down the Sandy; it bears towards the north, whilst the creek forms an elbow to the south. The soil is good, and is covered with a very heavy growth of pine and white cedar timber. I saw some trees of white cedar that were seven feet in diameter, and at least one hundred and fifty feet high. I measured several old trees that had fallen, which were one hundred and eighty feet in length, and about six feet in diameter at the root. We passed some small prairies and several beautiful streams, which meandered through the timber. The ground lies sloping to the south, as it is on the north side of the creek. In the evening it commenced raining a little. We remained at this camp all night. October 29. This morning, after breakfast, we parted with our friends and pursued our way. We soon ascended a ridge which we followed for seven or eight miles, alternately prairie and fern openings. In these openings the timber is not large, but grows rather scrubby. There are numerous groves of beautiful pine timber, tall and straight. The soil is of a reddish cast, and very mellow, and I think would produce well. We came to the termination of this ridge and descended to the bottom, which has been covered with heavy timber, but which {83} has been killed by fire. From this ridge we could see several others, of a similar appearance, descending gradually towards the west. We here crossed the creek or river, which was deep and rapid; and as our horses were barely able to carry themselves, we were compelled to wade the stream. Buckly had been sick for several days, and not able to carry his pack; and if at other times I regretted the necessity of being compelled to carry his pack, I now found it of some advantage in crossing the stream, as it assisted in keeping me erect. Buckly in attempting to wade across, had so far succeeded as to reach the middle of the stream, where he stopped, and was about giving way when he was relieved by Farwell, a strong athletic yankee from the state of Maine. In crossing a small bottom, one of the horses fell; we were unable to raise him to his feet, and were compelled to leave him. The other we succeeded in getting to the top of the hill, where we were also compelled to leave him. The former died, but the latter was taken in a few days after by those who were opening the road. After being relieved of the burthen of the two horses, we pushed forward on foot, as fast as Buddy's strength and our heavy packs would allow; and as it had been raining all day, our packs were of double their former weight. At dark we met a party of men who had been through with a drove of cattle, and were returning with pack horses for the three families who were yet at Fort Deposit. We encamped with them. After crossing the Sandy our course was southwest, over a rolling and prairie country. The prairie, as well as the timber land, was covered with fern. The soil was of a reddish cast, and very mellow, as are all the ridges leading from the mountain to the Willamette or Columbia river. We traveled this day sixteen or seventeen miles. October 30. This morning was rainy as usual. Four miles brought us to the valley of the Clackamis, which was here five or six miles wide. The road was over a rolling country similar to that we passed over on yesterday. To the left of the trail we saw a house at the foot of the hill; we made for it, and found some of our friends who had started from camp with C. Gilmore. The claim was held by a man named McSwain. [122] We tarried here until the morning of the 31st, when we again started for Oregon city. Our trail ran for five or six miles along the foot of the hill, through prairie and timber land. The soil looks good, but is rather inclined to gravel; {84} numerous streams flow down from the high ground, which rises gradually to a rolling fern plain, such as we traveled over on the 28th, and 29th. We then continued upon the high ground seven or eight miles, alternately through timber and fern prairies. We then turned down to Clackamis bottom, which is here about one mile wide; this we followed down for three miles, when night overtook us, and we put up at Mr. Hatche's, having spent just one month in the Cascade mountains. [123] November 1. This morning we left Hatche's, and in two miles travel we reached the crossings of the Clackamis river. At this point it is one hundred and fifty yards wide, the banks of gentle descent, the water wending its way for the noble Columbia over a pebbly bottom. Here is a village of about twenty families, inhabited by the Clackamis Indians, who are few in number, apparently harmless, and caring for nothing more than a few fish, a little game, or such subsistence as is barely sufficient to support life. There are but two or three houses in the village; they are made by setting up side and centre posts in the ground, the latter being the highest, to receive a long pole to uphold puncheons split out of cedar, which form the covering; the sides are enclosed with the same material, in an upright position. These puncheons are held to their places by leather thongs, fastened around them to the poles that lay upon the posts. After examining this little community, the remains of a once powerful and warlike people, [124] we obtained the use of their canoes, crossed over the river, and after two miles further travel we reached a point that had long been a desired object; where we were to have rest and refreshment. We were now at the place destined at no distant period to be an important point in the commercial history of the Union—Oregon City. [125] Passing through the timber that lies to the east of the city, we beheld Oregon and the Falls of the Willamette at the same moment. We were so filled with gratitude that we had reached the settlements of the white man, and with admiration at the appearance of the large sheet of water rolling over the Falls, that we stopped, and in this moment of happiness recounted our toils, in thought, with more rapidity than tongue can express or pen write. Here we hastily scanned over the distance traveled, from point to point, which we computed to be in miles as follows, viz: From Independence to Fort Laramie, 629 miles; from Fort Laramie {85} to Fort Hall, 585 miles; from Fort Hall to Fort Bois, 281 miles; from Fort Bois to the Dalles, 305 miles; from the Dalles to Oregon City, (by the wagon route south of Mount Hood,) 160 miles, making the total distance from Independence to Oregon city, 1960 miles. Actual measurement will vary these distances, most probably lessen them; and it is very certain, that by bridging the streams, the travel will be much shortened, by giving to it a more direct course, and upon ground equally favorable for a good road. Oregon City. Now at rest, having arrived at this place, before entering upon a general description of the country, I will give a short account of Oregon city, as it appeared to me. This town is located upon the east side of the Willamette river, and at the Falls. It is about thirty miles above the junction of the Willamette with the Columbia, following the meanders of the river; but, directly from the Columbia at Vancouver, it is only about twenty miles. It was laid out by Dr. M'Laughlin, in 1842, who holds a claim of six hundred and forty acres upon the east side of the river. From the river, upon this side, immediately at the Falls, there rises a rocky bluff of about eighty feet in height, which bears off to the northeast. Passing down the river, the land lies about ten feet lower than the surface of the water above the Falls. This plateau extends for about one-fourth of a mile, when there is a further descent of about fifteen feet, from which a level and fertile bottom skirts the Willamette for a mile and a half, to where the waters of the Clackamis are united with those of the Willamette. Upon the plateau, immediately below, and a small portion of the higher ground above the Falls, is the portion of his grant, that Dr. M'Laughlin has laid off in town lots. [126] Three years ago, this land was covered with a dense forest, which is now cleared off, to make room for the erection of houses to accommodate the inhabitants of the town. There were already erected, when I left there, about one hundred houses, most of them not only commodious, but neat. Among the public buildings, the most conspicuous were the neat Methodist church, which is located near the upper part of the town, and a splendid Catholic chapel, which stands near the river and the bluff bank at the lower part of the town site. [127] There are two grist mills; one owned by M'Laughlin, having three sets of buhr runners, and will compare well with most of the mills in the States; the other is a smaller mill, {86} owned by Governor Abernethy and Mr. Beers. [128] At each of these grist-mills there are also saw-mills, which cut a great deal of plank for the use of emigrants. There are four stores, two taverns, one hatter, one tannery, three tailor shops, two cabinet-makers, two silversmiths, one cooper, two blacksmiths, one physician, three lawyers, one printing office, (at which the Oregon Spectator is printed, semi-monthly, at five dollars per annum,) [129] one lath machine, and a good brick yard in active operation. There are also quite a number of carpenters, masons, &c., in constant employment, at good wages, in and about this village. The population is computed at about six hundred white inhabitants, exclusive of a few lodges of Indians. The Indians spend most of their nights in gambling. They have a game peculiar to the tribes of the lower Columbia, and as I have not seen it described, I will mention it here. Six men meet in their lodge, when they divide among themselves into partners of three on each side, then seat themselves, with a pole between the parties; the middle man on one of the sides has a small bone or stick which he holds in his hand; his partners upon the left and right keep up a regular knocking upon the pole with sticks, and singing of songs. The man with the bone keeps shifting it as quickly as possible from hand to hand, to deceive the middle man of the opposite side, as to which hand holds the bone; after he is satisfied, he stops and inquires of his opponent in which hand he holds it. If the opponent guesses rightly, he throws the bone, with a small pointed stick, to the winner, who goes through the same ceremony as the loser had done; but if the man guesses wrongly as to the hand that holds the bone, he hands over a little pointed stick. Thus they keep it up until one or the other has won a certain number of pointed sticks, which they have agreed shall constitute the game, when the stakes are delivered over to the winning party. So desperately attached to this game are these savages, that they will gamble away every species of clothing or property they may possess; after this their wives, and they have been known to stake their own services, for a certain number of moons, and sometimes even to become the slaves for life of the more fortunate gamesters. [130] The stores have but a very limited supply of such articles as emigrants need; but the present merchants, or others that will soon locate there, will find it to their interest to take out such commodities as will be required. Mr. Engle, who went out {87} with the late emigrants, had erected a small foundry, with the intention of casting some old cannon that lay about the fort, and other broken utensils, into those most needed for culinary purposes; but he had not commenced business when I left. [131] Unimproved lots sell at from one to five hundred dollars each, (the price varying with their location,) in the currency of the country. The ground back of the town on the bluff, is rather rocky for half a mile, to the foot of the hill; upon ascending the hill, the country consists of fern openings and timber groves alternately, for a distance of about thirty-five miles, to the Cascade mountains. Upon this bluff, which is covered with timber, there is a small but beautiful lake, supplied with springs, which has an outlet by a rivulet that passes through the town into the river. The river below the Falls, for several miles, is about two hundred and fifty yards wide, and opposite the town it is very deep. The bank on the east side, with the exception of a few hundred yards, is a cliff of about twenty feet in height, for the first half mile, of a firm basaltic rock; from thence down to the Clackamis the bank is a sandy loam. Upon the west side of the Willamette, and opposite to Oregon city, are laid out two villages; the upper one is called Linn city, in honor of the late senator from Missouri, whose memory, for his patriotic services in the cause of the Oregon emigrant, is held in high esteem by every true friend of his country and of humanity. When Dr. Linn died, the friends of Oregon lost a champion who would not have shamelessly deserted them in the hour of need. [132] Mr. Moore, late of Missouri, is the proprietor; [133] his claim commences one-fourth of a mile below the Falls, extends above the Falls one and three-fourths of a mile, and back from the river one half of a mile. When I left, there were about fifteen buildings in this village, inhabited mostly by mechanics. The proprietor had refused to sell water power, which was doubtless one of the reasons why more emigrants did not settle in it. Next, lower down, is the claim of Mr. Hugh Burns, a native of Ireland, but lately an emigrant from Missouri; he is the proprietor of Multinoma city, which is so called from the Indian name for the Willamette river, and a tribe of Indians of this name that once inhabited that country. [134] This tribe is now nearly extinct. At their burial places, near this, there are hundreds of skulls yet lying over the ground. When I left, {88} there were but few buildings, and some few mechanics settled in it. There are two ferries established over the river, from the villages on the west side, to Oregon city. [135] Upon the west side, the bank of the river is similar to that on the east, quite high, leaving but a small semicircular level for the first bottom; and upon a farther ascent of about twenty feet, there is a larger plain at the lower end of this bluff. The bottom corresponds well with that above the Clackamis on the opposite side, and is covered with a dense growth of fir; the trees are tall and straight. Description of the Country. The journey to Oregon city accomplished, and an examination of the immediate vicinity completed, I set about an inquiry as to the features of the country—its fertility, its general susceptibility of improvement, and its capability for the support of a large and industrious population. In so doing, in addition to what I could see for myself, I applied for information to all whose opportunities had been favorable for obtaining a knowledge of any particular section. In this work I was an inquirer after facts, in order to decide the question as to the propriety of taking my family there for a permanent home; and when I noted these facts, no attention was paid to the classification and arrangement of the various subjects, as is generally done by those travelers and geographers whose business is book-making. Necessarily, therefore, my Journal presents facts, just in the order in which they came to me, and as I received them they are placed before the reader. The landscape immediately adjacent to the villages of Linn city and Multinoma present several abrupt precipices of various heights, upon each of which is a small level, of lesser and greater widths, clothed with fine grass and studded over with oak timber, until the highest ascent is reached, when it spreads out into an extensive fern opening. From these cliffs there gush out fine streams of pure spring water; and they will afford most beautiful country seats for the erection of residences convenient to the towns, when their improvement shall render such sites desirable. From these heights, (which are easily ascended,) there is a fine view of the falls of the river for several miles, and of Mount Hood. From the heights to Quality Plains, a distance of twenty-five miles, the country presents rolling plains, with small groves of oak and fir, and it is well watered by springs and small rivulets. {89} From the description given of the towns, the reader may have already inferred, that the Falls of the Willamette combine all that is necessary to constitute great water privileges for propelling machinery; but before leaving this point, we will take a more particular view of them. These falls are occasioned by the descent of the whole volume of the river over a ledge of basaltic rock that crosses the entire channel. The greatest fall at any point is twenty-eight feet, but the whole descent here is about forty feet. The water is so divided in the channels at the Falls, and the islands are so situated, that nearly all of the water may be rendered available, at a very small expense, when it shall be needed. Nature rarely at any one point concentrates so many advantages for the erection and support of a great commercial and manufacturing city, as are to be found here. There is an abundance of water to propel the machinery, stone and timber convenient to erect the necessary buildings, an extensive country of the best farming lands in the world to support the towns by their trade, and a fine navigable river to bring the raw material to the manufactories, and when manufactured to carry the surplus to the Pacific, whence it can easily be taken to the best markets the world affords. At this place, the business of the upper Willamette will concentrate, for many years at least. Tide water reaches to the mouth of the Clackamis, which is within two miles of the Falls. Here there is a considerable ripple in the river, which can easily be removed by confining the Clackamis to its original bed upon the eastern side of the island. As it is, there are four feet of water over the bar, and not so rapid as to prevent the ascent of steamboats to the Falls. Vessels of two hundred and fifty tons burthen have ascended within two miles of the rapids; but, from the crookedness of the stream and the difficulty in tacking so frequently, they generally receive and discharge their cargoes at Portland, twelve miles below. [136] Traveling up the river, five miles from the Falls, brings us to Rock Island. Here is said to be a serious obstruction to the navigation of the river. The difficulty consists in there being several peaks of rocks so elevated, as to be near the surface of the water in a low stage; and as the channels between them are very narrow, and the water quite rapid, boats are liable to run on to them. But the rock can be removed at an inconsiderable expense. It is fifteen miles above the Falls to the {90} first gravel bar, at which place, in low water, there is but three feet in the channel. [137] In traveling up the river about fifty miles, I found, in addition to the obstructions named, four other gravel bars, over some of which there were only thirty inches of water. In going the next seventy-five miles, I approached the river several times, and found it to have a deep channel and smooth current. Persons who had navigated the river considerably further up, in their traffic with the Indians, informed me that it continued equally favourable for navigation. From what I saw and learned of intelligent persons, I think the smaller class of steamboats could for most part of the year ascend two hundred miles above the Falls. From the Columbia to Upper California, is a mountainous belt, known as the Coast range. [138] Spurs of this range approach nearly to the mouth of the Willamette. Between these spurs and the river, there is but a small portion of the soil well adapted to agriculture. The higher range to the west of the Falls affords a scope of fifty miles, that with the exception of a few openings, and Quality Plains, is tolerably broken, generally well timbered, finely watered, with many excellent situations for farms; but not so well calculated, as some other parts, for dense settlements. Quality Plains are distant twenty-five miles west from Oregon city; they are about twenty-five miles in length, are alternately rolling prairie and timber, surrounded by heavy growths of firs, many of which rise to the height of two hundred and fifty feet. These plains are all claimed, settled, and mostly improved. [139] They are well watered by many small streams that constitute the two forks of Quality river, which unite near the southeast part of the plains, and runs an easterly course, through narrow bottoms, well supplied with timber for more than twenty miles, where it discharges its waters into the Willamette, two miles above Oregon city. The principal part of the water that flows in Quality river descends from the Coast Range. This stream, like most others in that region, has several falls and rapids, that furnish very desirable sites for the propelling of machinery; but if ever profitable for navigation, will have to be improved by canals and lockage around its falls; which can easily be done, when the commerce of the country will justify the expense. From this stream, and between the Coast Range and Willamette, and to the south, to the Shahalam valley, which commences {91} at the low pass of Quality Plains, is a tract of about twenty by thirty miles in extent, of rolling fertile lands, alternately fern openings and timber groves. From the Coast Range to the Willamette there is a belt of five or six miles in width, which near the river is covered thinly with yellow pines; but nearer the mountain it is better timbered, and well watered from mountain rivulets; mostly a rich and loose soil, composed chiefly of yellow sand, loam and clay. But little of this tract is claimed by the emigrants, as they usually prefer the prairie country above. The Shahalam is a small stream, which has its origin in the Coast Range, runs eastwardly and empties into the Willamette, twenty miles above Oregon city. This is skirted with good prairies of five or six miles in width, near the mountains; but towards its mouth the valley is covered with timber and fern. The best portion is claimed. [140] Eleven miles further up, the Willamette receives the waters of the Yam-hill. At the mouth it is about twenty-five yards in width, quite deep, and will bear upon its bosom crafts of large burthen for ten miles, to the falls. This stream has two principal branches; the one rising in the Coast Range, runs for twenty miles in a south-easterly direction, through a beautiful and fertile valley of twelve miles in width, handsomely covered with groves of white oak, and other timber; which is intersected with numerous spring branches, the banks of which are lined with timber, leaving in some places fine bottom prairies, covered with a rich sward of grass. Between this fork and the Shahalam is a range of hills averaging about two miles in width, extending from a part of the Coast Range, to within three miles of the Willamette. They are of steep ascent, some of them rising to five or six hundred feet in height, well covered with grass, and from their sides issue numerous spring rivulets, which near their origin are lined with fir trees; thence passing through groves of white oak, alder and willow, to the bottom lands, which in crossing some of them disappear, and others after joining together, continue their courses until they unite with the Shahalam and Yam-hill. The grasses on these hills are a species of red clover, that grows in the summer season about one foot high, and a fine grass, which after the clover disappears, keep them clad in green during the winter. Thus they furnish a perpetual supply of food for cattle the whole year. The soil upon these hills is a mixture of clay and loam, of a reddish color, and in the bottoms it is a rich {92} mixture of loam and muck. However, there are some of the hills somewhat sandy, and occasionally interspersed with stony places. From the source of this branch of the Yam-hill, (which in the country is called the North Fork,) passes the trace, along which the people on Clatsop plains drive their cattle a distance of about forty miles, when they reach the coast, fifteen miles south of Cape Lookout. The south fork of Yam-hill has its source in the Coast Range; where it emerges from the mountains, for the first ten miles, its banks are well supplied with large fir trees, as are its several tributaries; its banks are generally steep, bearing the appearance of having washed out a channel from fifteen to twenty feet in depth. It runs an eastern course for about ten miles, then northeast for some miles, and finally takes a northern direction, until it connects with the North fork, near the Falls, after having flowed a distance of about twenty-five miles. The valley watered by this stream is about fifteen miles wide, after the stream emerges from the heavy growth of firs already noticed; for there are firs, more or less, its whole length. From the water courses, upon an average of a little over one fourth of a mile, the valley is fine prairie land, soil light and rich, occasionally interspersed with fine groves, and well adapted to agricultural purposes. It is well covered with grass, as is every portion of the country that has oaken groves, and the lower bottoms yield an abundant supply of the Camas , a tuberous rooted plant, shaped something like an onion, which it resembles in appearance. It is devoured greedily by hogs, and affords very good nutriment. The Indians make much use of it as an article of food. Between these streams and within six miles of their junction, commences the high lands of the Coast Range; the first plateau is about ten miles wide, and well covered with grass. The second plateau, for a few miles is fern openings, with an occasional grove of timber; after this westward to the coast the country is heavily timbered with firs, pine, and occasionally cedar, hemlock, balsam, and nearly all species of the evergreen timber. The streams last described furnish good sites for hydraulic purposes, near the mountains. A considerable portion of the valley of the Yam-hill is not only claimed, but settled, and finely improved. [141] Leaving the Yam-hill and ascending the Willamette twenty-five miles, we reach the mouth of the Rickerall, a stream {93} which has its source in the same range as the Yam-hill; for the first ten miles it runs rapidly over a pebbly bed, and from thence to the mouth has a deep channel, worn in a rich soil, with timbered banks. It flows in an easterly course from the mountains eighteen miles, and unites with the Willamette. The valley through which this stream flows resembles that described as watered by the Yam-hill; perhaps the soil is a little richer. It is nearly all claimed, and will soon be well settled. Upon this stream there is erected a grist mill, and there was a saw mill, but the freshets washed it away last spring. [142] Five miles above Yam-hill commence a range of hills that extend south to the Rickerall, similar to those between Shahalam and Yam-hill. These hills vary from one to four miles in width, leaving a bottom about six miles wide to skirt the Willamette, which is of good soil, well watered and timbered. Upon the slopes of these hills are several thousands of acres of white oak, from six to twenty feet in height, some of them of large diameter and all with large and bushy tops; the ground being covered with grass, at a distance they look like old orchards. The timber of these trees is very solid, and promises great durability. [143] The valley between the Yam-hill and Rickerall is called the Applegate settlement; there are three brothers of the Applegates, they have fine farms, with good herds of fat and thrifty cattle. [144] The Yam-hill plains is called the Hemerey settlement, from a family of this name there settled. [145] Upon the Rickerall are the Gillams, Fords and Shaws, all doing well. [146] The Gays and Matheneys are settled upon the bottom of the Willamette, between Yam-hill and Rickerall. [147] Twelve miles above the Rickerall, empties the Lucky muke into the Willamette; it heads in the same range as the Yam-hill, and, like it, has two principal branches, of about the same length, depth and width, and passes through an excellent valley of land, with the same diversities and excellent qualities for farming which are attributed to the Yam-hill valley—the timber being more of oak and less of fir. Upon this stream several claims are entered, and there is a fine opening for others who may desire to settle there. Mouse river joins the Willamette about thirty-five miles above the Lucky-muke. [148] It has its origin in the Coast range, has two principal branches, which unite near the mountains, passes ten miles over a pebbly bottom, and then becomes more sluggish to its mouth. This, like the other streams described, {94} has timber upon its borders, but less than some; good country, fine prospects, and but few claims made. Between the Lucky-muke and Mouse river there is a range of hills, as between other streams; but at one place a spur of the Coast range approaches within ten miles of the Willamette; from this issue many small streams which run down it, and through the fine plains to the Lucky-muke upon the one side, and into Mouse river on the other. This is a beautiful region; from the bottom can be seen, at different points, seven snow-covered peaks of the Cascade range. [149] The Cascade is within view for a great distance, to the north and south; which, together with the beautiful scenery in the valley, renders it a picturesque place. Thrifty groves of fir and oak are to be seen in every direction; the earth is carpeted with a covering of luxuriant grass, and fertilized by streams of clear running rivulets, some of which sink down and others pursue their course above ground to the river. Between the forks of Mouse river approaches a part of the Cascade, [150] but it leaves a valley up each branch about one mile in width, the soil of which is rich and good prairie for several miles above the junction. The mountain sides are covered very heavily with fir timber. Thus these beautiful valleys offer great inducements to those who wish to have claims of good land, with fine grounds for pasturage and timber close at hand. There are no claims made as yet above the forks. These streams furnish good mill sites for each of the first six miles, and are well filled with trout.

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