Part 3

A short distance beyond our stopping place we crossed a small stream called Small Creek. Soon after, we came in sight of those promised curiosities, the Courthouse and Chimney Rock, the first appearing in the distance like the dome of an immense building and the latter like a tower or straight column. At noon, we came nearly opposite the Court House, and as it appeared but a short distance from the road, some of our men determined to go to it and satisfy their curiosity. They went, and by fast walking, overtook us about four o'clock in the afternoon. It is about seven miles from the trail, and appears very fine, being discernable from all points. It is composed of an immense mass of rock, raising from 300 to 500 feet above the level of the plain, and of a conical shape at the summit, from which it derives its name. Chimney Rock is about twelve miles further, and seven miles from where we stop tonight. At noon we crossed another stream, the largest since we crossed Little Blue River, and good water. It comes in from the south, a little east of the Court House. This afternoon we had a fine specimen of a hail storm in this region. A dark mass of clouds were gathering for several hours in the west, till our path was overhung with an impenetrable curtain of black, and at length the wind, which was blowing from the east, turned back, and the storm rushed upon us. It was a real hail storm. When it commenced beating upon our cattle, they became intractable, but we succeeded in unfastening them from the wagons, and having driven them behind the wagons, they bore it as well as might have been expected. The hail stones were the largest I ever saw, some of them being as large as hens' eggs, and striking with force sufficient to make a man seek a shelter as soon as convenient. It continued some twenty minutes, when it stopped and we commenced our march; but we had not gone far when it recommenced, and we were compelled to turn around and wait till it ceased. But we have reason to be thankful, as we did not feel the worst of the storm. Two of our men who were in advance to find a stopping-place for the night were less fortunate than ourselves. Where they were, the hailstones were as large as lemons and with force enough to bruise a man severely. Our party in advance were on horses, and as they became fractious, they could not shelter themselves, and had to take the full force of the storm. One of our men received a severe bruise on his head, caused by a hailstone. But the storm soon blew over and the sun set behind a crimson curtain of transparent clouds. Distance, twenty miles.

MAY 26.

Today being Sunday, we determined to lay by till noon and let our cattle rest, and go on in the afternoon to the vicinity of Chimney Rock, which would afford better feed and give us an opportunity to examine this great natural curiosity. A large number of teams passed us in the forenoon, which made some of our party impatient to be going. I said we stopped to let our cattle rest, for the men were nearly all engaged in such matters as become necessary, such as washing their clothes, airing their bedding, and such other things as could not be done on the way. By four o'clock we were opposite Chimney Rock, and after going a short distance further we stopped for the night. In company with some others of our party, I started for the Rock, some two miles distant. The lower portion of it is thrown up like a mound in a conical shape, to the height of about two hundred feet, and upon this rests a perpendicular column of some twenty feet in diameter, and about one hundred feet high. By some, the height of the rock is computed at from five hundred to eight hundred feet, but I have put it as it appeared to me. The lower portion is composed of baked clay, and the upper part of a kind of soft rock, darker in color than the base. I saw thousands of names which were engraved upon the plaster material, and intended to carve my own, but was prevented by a storm coming on. It continued to rain that evening, and as there was a cold wind, and we had no fuel except a little we had in our wagons, it was anything but pleasant; but as we went to bed early, we soon forgot the rain beneath comfortable blankets. Though the ground was wet, a good buffalo robe was sufficient to keep out dampness all night. High bluffs are visible on each side of us, and in advance. Distance, eight miles.

MAY 27.

For a few days past we have got up and started about two o'clock in the morning, and so we did this morning. So after we set out, it recommenced raining and continued till we stopped for breakfast. Some of our men swore if they were at home they would not be caught here again, and it was disagreeable, trying to kindle a fire of wet fuel, being wet ourselves, and still getting more damp and chilly if possible. But at length the clouds broke away, and having refreshed ourselves with some warm breakfast, we went on our way rejoicing. We left the river in the early part of the day, and traveled upon a high plain, with Scotts Bluffs as the boundary. In the evening we reached the bluffs, where we encamped. In this region wood and water is very scarce, and we were not able to collect during the day so much as we needed; but this might be remedied by taking them in previously if we had known what was in advance. At the Bluffs we found several little springs, but they were between such precipitous banks that it was almost impossible to get our cattle to them, and some of them entirely beyond their reach. Here we found a little wood, consisting of a few specimens of stunted cedar scattered upon the bluffs and in the ravines, and a little dry wood in the valley, having been washed down by the rain. This latter is most excellent fuel, having been exposed to the sun for years, and as dry as powder. Some of the best teams begin to go our pace and will be thankful if they can maintain it. Distance, twenty-three miles.

MAY 28.

After proceeding a couple of miles, we came to an Indian encampment and also a place where blacksmithing was done, and on a little further we ascended the bluffs and traveled over a level, high country and came to the Platte again in the afternoon and encamped at night in the valley of that stream. This morning we had the first view of the Rocky Mountains, 150 miles distant. Laramie Peak looks like a vast sugar loaf. We see a little timber today by the Platte, such as cedar, pine and poplar. Day warm, and sand deep. Distance, twenty-five miles.

MAY 29.

After traveling five miles, we came to a trading place, which was occupied by some half dozen men and some thirty or forty Sioux Indians. They had clothing, but no provisions, which were most sought by the emigrants. This place is within twenty miles of Fort Laramie, and we have been so successful in getting over the ground that we feel no small degree of gratification. At three o'clock we came to Laramie River and forded it and encamped about one half mile beyond by the road opposite the Fort, which is a mile or more to the south of it. In consequence of the lateness of our arrival and the determination of our party to proceed early in the morning, I could not find time to visit it, but was compelled to satisfy my curiosity at a distance. From where I now am I can see several respectable looking buildings, looking the most like civilization of anything that I have seen since I left Weston. Laramie River has the same characteristics as the Platte, only much smaller, and about four feet deep where we forded it. A large number of emigrants change their mode of travel at this place--from wagons to packing--for the purpose of hastening their arrival in the gold regions. In doing this, some of them abandon much property, such as guns, tools, bedding, clothing, and more especially wagons and harness. I was told last evening that two men had just thrown their rifles into the Platte, having tried to sell them to no purpose, and being determined that no one should profit by the loss. Good wagons can be bought for a mere trifle, and many of them can be had for nothing. An excellent one was sold here yesterday at $7 and with it a lot of other valuables thrown into the bargain. Near us in this valley there is a very large number of emigrants encamped, stopping for the purpose of some business and seeing the Fort. I should think there were about 500 wagons and 2,000 men. Provisions, biscuit and bacon can be obtained at the Fort in small quantities by those who are in need of them, sufficient to last them to Salt Lake. Biscuit, $14 per pound. Though we are on the first part of our journey, we see many things left by the way, but everything of any value is examined and perhaps taken a short distance by those who come after, when they in turn cast them away; and others still encumber themselves as before. I have seen men take hold of a log chain and drag it for several rods, knowing at the same time that they could not take it with them; but having large acquisitiveness, they would cling to it from the force of habit, or in hopes that some lucky circumstance would turn up that would enable them to sell it. A man was at our camp this morning who had a rifle, a hatchet, and a shovel, which he offered to sell for two dollars, but could not, so he gave the rifle to one of our party and took the rest along. The soil is poor and sandy here and the grass short and dry. Distance, twenty-five miles.

MAY 30.

At three o'clock this morning we were under way and continued up the Platte, and having gone sixteen miles by two o'clock, we stopped for the night, our cattle being much in need of feed and rest, having traveled hard and found but little feed in the vicinity of the Fort. Some three miles before we stopped we left the river and ascended the tableland, passing over innumerable little knobs, upon which is scattered a little cedar and pine. In a ravine near the camp is an excellent spring of water and tolerably good grass. In the afternoon a dark cloud arose in the west, and soon came thunder and lightning and rain; and now while I am writing it is dancing upon our tent in a fine manner--a manner peculiar to this country. At length the clouds cleared away and our party concluded to proceed a few miles further. Accordingly, we collected our cattle, yoked them, and drove about five miles further. In the afternoon we passed some soldiers who were engaged in burning lime for the Fort. One of them wanted to buy liquor; said he had that day offered $16 per gallon for brandy to an emigrant but could not get it. One of our company sold him a drink of whiskey for fifty cents. Distance, twenty-one miles.

MAY 31.

Going two miles this morning, we came to a little stream called the Little Cottonweed. Our trail led over a hilly country, presenting every variety of scenery, from the level plain to the bold bluffs, with here a few shrubs of pine and cedar. These evergreens are the only objects generally which enliven the plains in which they are found, as they usually grow in the moist barrens and indescribable places, deep ravines and nearly naked rocks. At length we have come into the region of wild sage so well known and so much hated by the emigrant, as it grows in the most inhospitable regions. It is a low, bushy shrub, with thick and light-colored leaves, resembling to some extent the leaf of the cultivated sage and exhaling a similar scent. Our road is very circuitous. We have, in a few hours, traveled toward every point of the compass. Laramie Peak, which we first saw from Scotts Bluffs, is still in sight, several miles to the south of us. Its snow-capped summit presents a strong contrast to the green hill and prairie, which are just putting on their summer apparel. Today we swapped our wagon for one we found abandoned by the road. We made a good trade. Distance, twenty-one miles.

JUNE 1.

Still among the hills. In the afternoon over a high, level plain. Stopped at night by a little stream, a short distance from the Blue Mountain. Day fine. Distance, twenty-five miles.

JUNE 2.

Today we moved on till we came to a little stream about four miles from our last night's stopping-place. One mile from where we stopped, we crossed a little stream called Mountain Blue. We have not found a more beautiful place than where we stopped today--plenty of wood, water and grass. Day fine; health good. There is a novel feature in this region in the existence of a red sand which gives to the prospect a very picturesque character. I suppose it was caused by volcanic fires, which burned perhaps centuries ago. A soft quality of marble also abounds here, and many of our party have smoothed pieces of it and written or carved their names, dates, and other laconic bits of news upon them for their friends behind them. I cut a level surface upon a piece and wrote thus: "C. W. Smith, Centreville, Indiana. 'On the night's Plutonian shore.' June 2, 1850." The country over which we are passing is becoming very rocky and broken, and I am surprised that we can pass over it with so little difficulty. Sometimes we pass along an extensive range of hills, sometimes through a deep gorge or dry-bed of a stream, and then again winding along a serpentine track, thus ever changing from scene to scene, deriving new interest from them all and learning each day something more of the many wonders of nature. Distance, four miles.

JUNE 3.

Having refreshed ourselves yesterday (Sunday) by the river La Bronte, we proceeded this morning in good spirits; about ten o'clock we crossed the river "_a la Psete_ (Prele?)" ten or twelve feet in width, and at night encamped on La Boisce. Great variety of scenery. At noon we had a heavy shower of rain, which increased the water in the creeks to an almost impassable height. Tonight the sky is obscured by heavy masses of dark clouds that sit with portentous aspect upon the brows of the mountains. The valleys of the tributaries of the Platte through which we have passed are narrow and winding, with little timber, such as willows, lind, cottonwood and poplars, beside a little cedar and pine, in the ravines and on the bluffs. Distance, twenty-three miles.

JUNE 4.

Going nine miles brought us to a stream called Deer Creek, about twenty yards wide and with a strong current. Crossed one more stream during the day. Muddy, crooked creek, and encamped in the valley of the Platte, twelve miles from the stream. Country more level by the Platte. Weather pleasant. Distance, eighteen miles.

JUNE 5.

Distances are very deceptive here. A range of mountains to our left appeared about two miles off; became the object of curiosity to some of our party from the fact that there was snow upon its summit, and so they concluded to walk across the plain and ascend them and get some of the snow, if such it was, which some of them doubted. They started about 2 P. M. and as we laid by this afternoon, they supposed it a good opportunity. At sundown our explorers returned, much fatigued. They had walked the entire afternoon after they had left us. The top of the mountains was about twelve miles distant, and they had been there. They brought a snowball and declared that what they saw was worth their labor. Distance, twelve miles.

JUNE 6.

We started early this morning, in order to get ferried across the Platte before those who stopped behind us over night. One mile's travel brought us to the ferry, and our wagons were taken across without delay. There are three boats running across abreast, though conducted by different men. Price per wagon $4.00. They were not willing to ferry our cattle over, so we drove them up a short distance, and made them swim the stream. The boats are run on a very simple principal and a very good one. A long line is stretched across the river, secured at each end. To this are placed two pulley wheels, which are fastened to ropes attached to the boat at each end, and the forward rope being the shortest, the side of the boat is brought to the force of the current and forced across. Two wagons are placed in a boat each trip, which is made in about ten minutes. All being safely over, about 8 o'clock we resumed our march, leaving the river and following the trail over a high range of country, destitute of wood and water. At noon we stopped a short time at Alkali Pond--very poor water and grass; and being none better within fifteen miles, we pushed on in order to reach them by night. At sundown we came from a stream which comes from what are called Willow Springs, about two miles further on. Stopped here. This being a general stopping place, the grass is poor. The stream is small and the valley narrow. On the upland there is no vegetation worth mentioning, except wild sage, which grows in stunted clumps all over the country. We see mountain peaks to the left and in advance, the first being a range of the Black Hills and the second the Rattlesnake Mountains, I suppose. Distance, twenty-six miles.

JUNE 7.

After traveling over a rough country till noon, we came to Grease Creek and encamped on it near Rattlesnake Rock. We stopped about two o'clock for the purpose of resting and letting our cattle feed, as we had just come over a portion of the route nearly destitute of grass and water. We came by one little stream which is known to be poisonous, the water being strongly impregnated with alkali. We learn by some emigrants since we passed this stream that a company who were ignorant of the nature of the water let their horses drink it, and many of them died in consequence. Distance, fourteen miles.

JUNE 8.

Today at noon we reached the Sweetwater, much elated, as we had been on the muddy Platte for more than twenty days. The river is here about six rods wide, and deep; water tolerably good, not quite clear. Another mile brought us to the far-famed Independence Rock. I climbed up its abrupt, rocky sides, and spent a few minutes in walking about its summit, though I had not time to examine it as I wished. It is composed of solid rock of a light red clay color, about one eighth of a mile long and two hundred feet high. There are huge masses of grotesque rocks lying upon its sides and summit, some of which weighed hundreds of tons and appear as if they could be shoved off by the hand. On the prominent points of this rock are carved and painted thousands of names, in all styles and sizes; some are put high up on the ledges, where it must have been difficult to place them, and others nearer the ground. I looked for a familiar name, but could find none, though I saw all the states inscribed, as the former residences of these pilgrims. One half mile further on we crossed the Sweet Water, and in the afternoon went by what is called The Devil's Gate, a narrow channel of the stream, through a pass of the Rattlesnake Mountains. Looking down into the stream from the rocks hundreds of feet high, it is said that the Sweet Water appears as a mere rivulet. Some of our party climbed to the top of the Gate and boasted of having done some daring climbing. We are now surrounded by mountains, entirely barren, except a few stunted cedars or other evergreens. The range on the south is partly covered with snow. Distance, twenty-two miles.

JUNE 9.

Started in the morning. A shower at noon. Distance, fourteen miles.

JUNE 10.

After proceeding up the river for fourteen miles, we left it for sixteen miles. At night we stopped at the Ice Springs. The water is very bad here, so much so that we dare not let our cattle drink it. We see many evidences of its fatality in the many horses and cattle in the vicinity. Distance, twenty miles.

JUNE 11.

Started early and reached the Sweet Water again about 10 o'clock, having gone some ten miles. We were delayed an hour in the morning to find our cattle that had strayed off. Many of our cattle show the effects of bad water and today our best yoke gave out, having to take them from the wagon and drive them slowly behind. Distance, ten miles.

JUNE 12.

Still by the Sweet Water. The valley is becoming more narrow and the stream more rapid. In advance and a little to the north of our trail, we can see the Wind River Mountains. Their lofty summits are covered with snow, and in their dazzling whiteness appear truly sublime. From their great height and the transparency of the air, they look not far off, though they are probably not less than seventy-five miles. In the afternoon I walked over a body of snow lying near the road, and as it had retreated down the bank, it was interesting to notice how the grass and flowers had followed, a barren space of not more than three yards intervening winter's snow and summer's flowers. Pleasant day, just cool enough to be agreeable. The grass is becoming better, as there are numerous springs in this vicinity, by which it grows. Distance, nineteen miles.

JUNE 13.

Started early this morning and went two and three quarters miles to the North Sweet Water, where we took breakfast and stopped till noon. In the afternoon we crossed Willow Creek, and at night encamped on a fine little brook of crystal water about one mile from the main road. Today we have felt that we are in a high region. We see snow in all directions--on the mountains, on the hills and in the ravines--and here, a few yards above me, an extensive bed reflects the rays of the setting sun over a bed of sweet pink flowers which peep up through the fresh grass. The grass is good here, though rather short. We are now within about ten miles of the South Pass, which we will probably reach by tomorrow noon. We see no longer any of the large companies which overtook us on the outset of the journey. They have invariably broken up into small companies of five or six wagons. This is the best plan, especially when there is no danger to be apprehended from the Indians. It is impossible for large companies to improve the time like small companies. The great difficulty is there is too much hesitation on the plains, which invariably results in disagreement. Distance, eleven miles.

JUNE 14.

After going a little over a mile, we crossed the Sweet Water for the last time, leaving it to our right. At noon we were at the South Pass, where we stopped for a short time. In the afternoon we passed the Pacific Springs and encamped within about two miles of Little Sandy. In the afternoon it rained very hard, and now, at sundown, as heavy a cloud as I ever saw is coming up in the west. Distance, seventeen miles.

JUNE 15.

Quite cool last night, so much so that we could not keep warm between a buffalo robe and two good blankets. The night before last was cold also. Water froze over near our camp. After three miles' travel this morning we came to what is called Dry Sandy. In the valley there is no water at this season of the year. We passed down the valley six miles, when we came to the fork in the roads--the Salt Lake and Subletts (?)--cut off, the former leading down by Sandy and the latter keeping to the right, west. Five miles more brought us to the Little Sandy, where we stopped for the night. Tomorrow we shall go but six miles to Big Sandy, where we shall prepare to cross a desert, as it is called, stretching from that stream to Green River, a distance of forty miles, which is generally traveled in the night. Distance, six miles.

JUNE 16.

Today we laid by to prepare to cross the desert from Big Sandy to Green River. This afternoon I went up this stream about three miles to cut grass for our cattle while crossing the desert. I was engaged half a day in cutting two small sacks full with a knife. Then I came back to the wagons and started down the stream for more grass, but found it more scarce than ever. There is but little grass in this region, excepting the creek bottoms, and they are few and narrow.

JUNE 17.