Newspaper Account of Wagon Train Journey to California in 1849 Gold Rush
[photo of a wagon train on the trail]



Gold Rush Journey
Reported in Oquawka Spectator,
Part II of III

[Part I] Part I     [Part III] Part III


Loupe Fork of Platte, 1 May 1850
We crossed the Missouri at Sarpy’s ferry, 12 miles above Kane, on Wednesday night last. We were compelled to furnish men to work the boats and to draw the wagons up the steep bank; for this privilege we paid $1.25 per team. Our crossing was effected with considerable labor, against a heavy wind and strong current between 7 and 10 o’clock; and we left the ferry the next morning—a company of twenty six wagons and 83 men. Two days after 14 teams stampeded, leaving—the Oquawka boys and Roe’s team, 12 teams and 43 men. Five wagons and 17 men will probably join us tomorrow, when our company will be large enough. Soon after starting Mr. Harris broke a wheel which detained us a day.

We laid by at the “Winter Quarters” of the Mormons—a large collection of log huts, now deserted, but occupied a few years since by “Latter Day Saints” who were “sojourning” to the Salt Lake. The town, even in its ruins, bears evidence that its inhabitants belonged to a class who are never idle.

Our road to the Elk Horn was all that we could desire—well beaten, dry, and elevated. The Elk Horn is crossed by a good rope ferry. After leaving this stream, we struck upon the road leading up the valley of the Platte, which is remarkably straight and level—stretching away as far as the sight extends, without a ridge or scarcely the “shadow of turning.” This road later in the season must be one of the best bottom roads in the world, but now it is intersected by several very bad sloughs. We could probably have pulled through, but we preferred saving our horses, and packed over about half our load of grain on our backs, wading through water three feet deep. The wind has troubled us more than anything else, for several days. The Prairies have mostly been burnt off by the emigration ahead of us, very recently, and ashes and fine sand was anything but agreeable to our eyes. On Monday night about 8 o’clock, a light breeze was playing around us and the balmy atmosphere betokened a pleasant night. Our coffee was boiling upon the stove, and, with appetites rendered doubly acute by the fatiguing labor of the day, we were seated in our tents, eagerly awaiting the summons of our cooks to partake of that best of meals—a good supper, when we perceived a change in the atmosphere, and heard a rushing, surging sound like the beating of waves upon a sandy beach. Another moment, and the first premonitions of the coming storm—a shower of dust and ashes—warned us to prepare for a gale. Now it is down upon us in all its wild fury, snapping tent pins; sweeping away hats, stoves, victuals, saddles, blankets; filling the air with a cloud of dust and coal black ashes till the last ray of starlight was shut out, and our throats and eyes rendered dust holes for the weepings of the burnt prairie. Imagine the scene if you can, for it cannot be described. A hurricane is a “mighty wind” when you are obliged to face the blast, but when to the wind is added a suffocating cloud of blinding and stinging sand and ashes, you would be very apt to think with us that the “Elephant” was scratching gravel somewhere in the neighborhood.

We have been travelling through the country of the Pawnees for several days, but have seen but few Indians. They came around our camp at night, a few only, however. They are the veryest beggars I ever saw; and they bear the name of being great thieves, we lost nothing by them except a few articles of but little value; I attribute this not to their honesty, but to the vigilance of our guards—We station from 4 to 10 sentinels every night—changing at 1 o’clock. An attempt was made by the Pawnees to create a stampede among the horses of a small company just behind us the other night. Several horses had been untied before the watch discovered the maneuver. Ten Pawnees crossed the Loupe not long since and stole ten Sioux horses. The Sioux followed them and coming upon them at daybreak whilst the Pawnees were at breakfast, they killed seven of the thieves—the other three managing to escape. The dead bodies of the seven now lie on a point about 200 miles below the Ferry, and the Pawnees are said to be afraid to venture across to bury them.

The emigrants who are ahead of us have burnt off all the prairies which the Indians had reserved for early grass and game. This conduct has justly incensed them, and the curses that the emigration behind shower upon the unknown perpetrators of this gross outrage are loud and long. Such conduct in the Indian world would be pardonable, but for a white man, hailing from a Christian land, to use such means of keeping back their fellow travellers—I know of no name justly applicable to him. Wherever the grass is not burned, our horses have good picking, but the grass on the burnt district will not be fit for use for several weeks yet. I would not complain of those men if they had built a raft and torn it up again, a bridge and broken it down—but what nature has provided for us, let us all have an equal chance at.—We shall probably not suffer as much as some yet behind us, but I for one despise the want of principle which would induce men thus to attempt to keep back emigration.

The Galesburg Company has gone on—a part of them, however, having been left behind, are here yet. We shall probably ferry tomorrow, and push ahead. We have grain sufficient to last our teams some time yet, and grass is coming on. The road on the west side of the Loupe Fork is said to be excellent. We are now 86 miles from the Missouri.


3 May 1850
Yesterday we ferried the Loupe Fork. Ferris’ Galesburg company had the use of the boats in the morning; we forded our horses by wading the river and leading them. The bottom is quick sand. We forded the wagons in the afternoon, and it took six of us constantly bailing the boat out to prevent its sinking. A very heavy thunder storm assisted us somewhat all the time. This stream has showed us some sight—and I hope we won’t have many more such. We have now crossed the Rubicon, for the Loupe bears the reputation of being the worst stream to cross between the Missouri and California, and I believe it well deserves it. This morning we leave for the West—the wind blowing strong from the northwest. Yesterday was a day to be long remembered. I am on the point of starting and can’t say more. I waded the Loupe yesterday three times, the water being about breast deep. The hardest work I have done on the road was assisting in keeping the old scow from sinking. Hurrah for the Loupe—may I never see thee again in a thunder storm—or cross thy rapid waters in a mud scow.

4 May 1850
Reader, these “stray” jottings may prove of interest to you; if so, I am repaid for my trouble in sketching them, and if you find them imperfect in many respects, remember that they are hurried off during the bustle of camp life, at intervals between the duties which devolve upon every emigrant who wishes to reach California. In my last, I left the company at the Loupe Fork, and I once more attempt to follow their wanderings.

Today has been one of ’em—; we started early, and traveled more than thirty miles; towards night we found ourselves in the midst of sand ridges, without any prospect of water. Several of us rode ahead to search for a camping ground, but night over took us before we had succeeded; yet we traveled on, and were forced, about 9 o’clock, to camp on the ridge, with no grass, no water, no fuel. The wind blew cold and bleak, we supped upon our last cold victuals, and crept between our blankets. Today we saw deer, antelope, buffalo chips and patches of salaratus.

5 May 1850
We could not lie by today so we started without our breakfasts and set out upon our journey. In about two hours we came to miserable pond water; and for four hours longer, we drew our wagons through a quicksand swamp, where we stalled about every half mile. Camped at noon on the banks of a beautiful prairie stream, where we enjoyed a dinner warm and steaming from the stove. I noticed here, the graves of two emigrants who died last June—probably Mormons. Fine roads to Wood River, a fine camp, abundance of excellent water, fuel and grass. Saw the heads of several buffalo recently killed and several antelopes.

6 May 1850
Traveled only half a day as our horses needed rest after the fatiguing drive of yesterday. I noticed the graves of two females who died of cholera last season.
7 May 1850
Saw the Anderson boys. They were in camp waiting for grass; waiting, for when it will come no one can tell. To me, now, a tuft of long green grass is more full of beauty than the blooming rose of summer—never before did I look with such anxiety to see the slender blades looking upward, but I hope there’s a “good time coming” if we’ll “wait a little longer.”—Saw a wolf and some small game, and a number of dead buffaloes on the road; and after we had camped, I saw five buffaloes about two miles distant; some of the boys gave chase but without success.
8 May 1850
Traveled all day alongside of a dog town and saw numbers of prairie dogs, rattlesnakes and small owls. These animals all live together in the same hole, but how the family agree, is more than I can tell—probably, about as well as would a Whig, Democrat and a Free Soiler. The dogs are much like a ground squirrel, but considerably larger, short tailed, and bark as much like a dog as their feeble voices will permit. Wherever we meet these towns, we find the grass eaten off short, the ground hard, with gravelly clay surface.
9 May 1850
This morning Cha’s and Dan’l Chapin succeeded in killing the first buffalo. At noon a drove approached us, and Applegate, McDill, Graham, Swezy and myself mounted and gave chase. After following them about two miles over the ridges, a sight unexpected and exciting, burst upon my view; as I rose a small elevation, I found myself surrounded on all sides by buffaloes; I counted a part of the immense herd, and from a rough estimate I cannot believe that I saw less than 1,000 head at a view. Unexperienced as we were, we put our horses at full speed, but found that this only produced a stampede among the animals; we then walked our horse slowly along, and found that by this means we could approach near to them; when within about 250 yards of the herd I rashly fired at a grim, grizzly old bull, and saw my ball strike the ground just ahead of him; Graham had better luck, for he rushed among the drove and killed a calf. McDill killed an antelope, and we loaded up our game and started campward; a rain came up which chilled us thoroughly, but the excitement of the day’s adventure and a warm supper soon cured us up.
10 May 1850
For several days we have seen trains passing up on the opposite side of the Platte. A gentleman in camp, who has traveled both roads says this is far the best. Grass looks a little better; days are warm, but we have heavy frosts at night.
11 May 1850
Two of the Jo Davies teams have rejoined the company. Plenty of game killed today—Tinker having killed a buffalo, Ebenezer and Charles Chapin two antelopes, while the shot guns have played the very deuce among the ducks and chicken. We have passed Grand Island, and the junction of the North and South Forks of the Platte. We are camped at the river with Ferris’ Company, and the Rock Island Company. Near our camp is the grave of G. W. Jordan of Dubuque, who was buried here on the 1st inst.; this is the only new grave we have seen on the road. We are now in the region where the grass has not been burned; what can have come over the devils who have been so busy before. We nooned at the largest spring I ever saw; two streams of water boiled up, one about 6 and the other 4 inches in diameter. Now for a fresh meat supper.
News Items

We regret to learn by a letter from Dr. Thompson to Lambert Hopper, Esq., of Warren, dated May 27, 1850, that John Anderson, son of Mr. Wm. Anderson of this county died at Fort Laramie on the 26th May last, whilst on his way to California. Dr. Thompson’s company are all enjoying good health.

Wm. J. Findley, supposed to be a son of David Findley, formerly of this county, was found murdered a few miles from Sacramento City, California, on the 29th of May last.

22 May 1850
After ferrying the Platte at Fort Laramie we took the river road and traveled about 12 miles. We are now in the Black Hills—first range of the Rocky Mountains. Near our camp is a perpendicular cliff of white sandstone covered with a sparse growth of pitch pine.
23 May 1850
I never wish to travel over better roads than we have had most of the day. The scenery was fine—hills and valley; abrupt bluffs with pine trees growing among the rocks; deep ravines with evergreen thickets; and in the distance the blue peaks of high ridges. Had a small shower of hail which did no damage. Passed a number of horse teams and one ox company. Distance 25 miles.
24 May 1850
Our road lay through a valley this morning where we saw large quantities of wild sage, which, as it will continue throughout the journey, I will here describe it: It grows in large bunches, some times three or four feet high, with numerous hard, twisted stems, which afford tolerable fuel; the leaf resembles the cultivated sage, is exceedingly bitter, and in smell very much resembles a plant, raised in gardens, called southerwood. I am tired of the plant already, so excuse me from saying anymore about it except that when a train passes over it the atmosphere is filled with the odor arising from it. About noon I visited a point where the river runs through a narrow pass, with a perpendicular bluff of red flint stone, rising on one side to the height of more than two hundred feet. Since noon our road has again led over the Hills, and we are now encamped on a beautiful stream—the La Bonte. A thunder storm is raging out doors, but what of that—it will make grass all the better. Laramie Peak has been enveloped in a cloud reaching far down its slope all day. Distance 24 miles.
25 May 1850
Last night we were visited by a tremendous hail storm, which made us tremble for our frail cloth tenements, but fortunately, it passed off without doing any other damage than frightening some of our horses. Many of the indentations left in the clay this morning are large enough to receive walnuts. The forenoon was cold and drizzly and the road somewhat slippery. Four miles of our travel was over a soil of red slate—the ground and bluff points of the hills presented the appearance of having been showered with Spanish brown. We took our dinner during a thunder storm, seated on the ground—and it wasn’t “hard to take.” The road soon dried off and we made a pleasant drive to the Bourche Boise river—the finest camping place we have ever had. We left a few companies behind us today. It seems that horses have everywhere been selected for the trip, as oxen and mules bear but a small proportion to the number of horse teams on the road. Saw three men who are packing through on the same number of horses. Passed a footman who is going through with 23 pounds of bread and one blanket—his only stock and store; query, won’t he beg “some” before he reaches the diggings? I noticed a very pretty flower resembling the wild rose in color and shape, though far excelling it in fragrance, but, unlike the rose, it grows close to the ground and is an annual plant. Elk sign are abundant, but I haven’t seen his elkship yet; I saw, however, horns of the mountain goat of enormous size, and I wish now to see the shoulders that can carry them along. Distance 28 miles.
26 May 1850
We made a short drive today in order to reach the ferry ahead of a number of teams we have passed. The Galesburg company passed six days ahead of us. Ferris’ Galesburg company is just ahead, and the Burlington Company behind. On a tree near the road was inscribed, “J.A. Blackburn, June 16th”; so that we are just twenty-one days ahead of Col. Findley’s time. Rained a little this afternoon. Distance 19 miles.
27 May 1850
The Platte has entirely changed its character, save that it is still muddy. It is now a narrow, gravelly bottomed, swift, cool, crooked mountain stream. We are just across the North Platte—for the last time. Our ferriage cost us $5 per team! The river is very high, and it was impossible to ford it.—This morning we woke up to find the ground covered with snow, and the white flakes falling thick and fast; the white blanket has been torn away from the low land by the warm sun; but the mountains are still covered. I looked for some time at the white peaks this morning before I discovered that they were not clouds—so exact was the resemblance, and so faint the outline of the ridge. Ferris’ company is just behind us. Grizzly bear, black-tailed deer, black bear, antelope, and mountain sheep or goats are numerous in the surrounding mountains. Several of the grizzly bears have been shot at by the ferrymen, and I saw two of the common bruins today. This is the greatest country for wet weather I ever saw; we have had rain every day for more than a week. The boys are all well; our horses are thriving, and we feel in fine spirits. We shall probably go by the Salt Lake. None of the boys from our county—or Mercer are ahead of us. If I meet the Mormon regular mail, I shall write again on the route; but, readers, for the present goodbye, and may the same good luck attend you all that we desire for ourselves.
28 May 1850
The mail carrier from the Salt Lake is just in with the regular mail. Mr. Campbell, the carrier, states that we will find good grass all the way by keeping upon the hills. The quality of the grass is very superior—differing very essentially from that growing upon our prairies. The cattle with which Mr. C. performed his trip are in fine condition after having traveled 380 miles on grass alone. I think we will go by the Lake, where we are told we can procure supplies of vegetables, cheese, eggs, &c. Flour can be bartered for, but is not for sale in the shops. The ferries here are kept constantly going by emigration. We have passed probably two hundred teams since leaving the fort which will probably come up today, as we are lying by at the upper ferry. I have procured a manuscript copy of “A guide from the Salt Lake to the Gold Mines” with distances from camping places, &c. It is just 862 miles from the Salt Lake to Sacramento City. We shall probably unite two teams on one wagon when our grain gives out. Swezy has already done so. This will give a fresh team every day.

FROM FORT LARAMIE

—Letters have been received in town by S. S. Phelps, Esq., from his son William W. and Mr. William Shores, dated at Ft. Laramie, June 11, at which time they had just arrived, having made the trip from the Missouri River, 523 miles, in twenty days. The letters say that the company has enjoyed good health and “are in fine spirits, but have not yet seen the Elephant.”

Mr. Stockton’s company crossed the river on the 11th, all well. Capt. Pence’s company arrived at Fort Laramie, June 2—all in good health.

Placerville (or Hangtown), July 17, 1850

Kind Patrons:

I have at length arrived in the gold region after a trip of 81 days from the Missouri River during which time we laid by 11 days. We had a very pleasant trip till we reached the Humbolt &c. When we arrived at the sink, we concluded, on account of the high water on the Truckie, to take the Carson route. We now crossed a desert of 45 miles, without grass or water, but found this to be no trick at all. Up Carson River we had poor grass and found none on the Sierra Nevada—our horses having to live on weeds and leaves. The road over this range of mountains is at this period, the worst that the imagination of man can conceive. By the time we reached these mountains the company were all packing, except Swezy and Blackart’s teams. Chapins, Cowan, Birdsall, and Eames are in, and the others are close behind us. John and Theodore McFarland are with me here. I heard from Dr. Mangel at Fort Laramie and from the Keithsburg boys, Anderson boys, and Captain, R. W. Miles of Knox county at N. Platte. Samuel Snook was near us at the Sweetwater. I saw Denman last at the Devil’s Gate. Capt. N. O. Ferris of Galesburg, we left at Raft River. Parker and Peck of Burlington and Updegraff’s Macomb train will be in soon.

Our horses stood the trip well until we reached the Humboldt where the alkali water made them very weak. If we had had plenty of citric acid we could have prevented this, however, but as the Co. was but poorly supplied, we had to suffer the consequences. Our horses all needed rest before attempting to cross the Nevada Chain, but almost everyone was out of provisions, and we had to push ahead, and several horses started out and were left here, which could have come in if we had waited on them a day or two; but a hungry man will make any sacrifice to obtain food. Numbers of emigrants were entirely destitute of food, even on the Humbolt, and I saw men 300 miles back who were living on nothing but coffee. You might as well try to find charity in a bigot, as to look for game along the route, for I could see more game in one day’s hunt about Oquawka than I have seen altogether since leaving the South Pass. Men thus straitened for food, will, of course, go any length to obtain it, and stealing became very common on the last part of the road. But as some could not steal nor beg enough to satisfy the cravings of their appetities, and had no money to buy of the mountain traders at the exorbitant rates asked, they were obliged to eat their horses. In fact, I saw several horses which had been recently killed, and the steak taken from them.

Sacramento City, 1 Aug. 1850

I scratch off a hasty note, enclosing a part of my “notes”—all I could get ready for this steamer. I will finish them—and send “A Week in the Mines” by the 15th. I give you the whereabouts of the boys as far as I have been able to learn: Col. Findley, William Hanna, Cook of Keithsburg and Senter of New Boston are keeping a rancho on Bear River. Brocklebank is worth $8,000 and is trading on Bear River. Churchill is proprietor of a rancho just below the city. The Blackburns own a saw mill at Santa Cruz. Seymour is on the South Fork of the Yuba. Lieut. Mitchell is at Gold Canyon on the middle fork of the Yuba. Edward and Jerry Ray are on Nelson Creek on the Yuba. Smalley and Rhodes are on south fork of American.

Of recent emigration. A. Knowles, McDill, McGaw, Henderson, Applegate, Swezy and his boys, the Eames’ and Birdsall are all at Cold Spring Valley, but will not probably remain there long. Henry Knowles and Jesse Bigelow have obtained good situations and gone to the Yuba. David McFarland, Blackart and Harris are at Coloma. The Roberts boys are at Hangtown. Snook is in but I have not seen him. Perkins and Graham will go to trading at Hangtown. Dr. Knowles of Keokuk will also go into business there. Slone will probably commence baking.—The Galesburg boys are generally mining at Cold Spring. John and Theodore McFarland are at present in the city, where they will probably get employment. Cowan is now engaged at his avocation. Francisco is driving an ox team from Coloma to this city. Pike has bought into a mule team. The Chapins are at Cold Spring doing very well.

The reader who has followed me to the North Platte, upper crossing, will now be prepared to go with me over the most interesting portion of the route.

28 May 1850
We remained in camp at the ferry. Nothing worthy of note occurred. Henderson has lost two of his horses, which, I suppose, have gone ahead—as they are nowhere to be found.
29 May 1850
After having assisted in paying the last tribute of respect to the remains of Mr. Horace Conger of Jackson Co., Iowa, who died near our camp last night, we recommenced our journey.—Henderson has found his horses, which were taken up the road by the gentlemanly Captain of the Cedar Co., Iowa train. Crossed an alkali swamp this afternoon; the ground is here saturated with lye which stands in pools upon the surface. Passed through a rock avenue, where I discovered a bank of coal.
30 May 1850
On our road today we passed many lakes of alkaline water, some of which had dried up, leaving them incrusted with a white surface of saleratus or carbonate, which upon trial, we found to answer as a good substitute for manufactured article; from these lakes hundreds of tons might be collected. This evening we arrived upon the bank of the Sweet Water, a beautiful stream about 120 feet wide. We struck the river at Independence Rock, an isolated hill of smooth, marked granite, which rises abruptly from the Valley to the height about 80 feet. This remarkable rock is about 600 yards long; its surface is entirely destitute of earth or vegetation, and is covered with the names of thousands of visitors, among which I noticed those of Col. Findley and Ed. Ray. We crossed the river a mile above the Rock, where we found Denman of Monmouth encamped.
31 May 1850
Four miles from camp we arrived at the celebrated pass in the Sweetwater Mountains known as the Devil’s Gate. I rode head of the train in order to obtain a good view of this remarkable point. The Sweet Water here passes through almost perpendicular walls of granite towering on either side to the height of four hundred feet above the stream.—These walls are seamed with numerous crevices, deep, dark and narrow; and the ascent from the bottom, where the river goes rushing and foaming over jagged rocks in a cascade of boiling foam, up the rugged sides of the mountain, is anything but an easy task; I accomplished it, however, and was well repaid for my trouble. Travellers who visit this romantic spot should ascend the mountain from the point where the river first enters the pass and upon ascending about a hundred feet, the sublimity of the view below him caught thro’ a narrow gorge in the rock, will cause him to utter an exclamation of wonder at the vastness of the power which “causeth the water to wear away the rocky barriers of Earth,” and of admiration at the perfection of His work. There is an old Indian legend connected with this place, which, if I ever obtain leisure from my arduous “gold digging” labors, I may relate to my readers. In the meantime we will pursue our journey, by crossing 7 creeks, and camping for the night on Bitter Cottonwood Creek. The scenery from the Gate has been picturesque in the extreme, the naked mountains presenting many beautiful views. I noticed a place where a perfect resemblance of a road runs up the side of the mountain. This was a gap, about 4 feet deep and 20 feet wide, graded with artistic accuracy; at the top may be seen the representation of a gigantic hod, but the Titan who used it—where is he? Saw today “toads with horns and tails,” a species of lizard, ugly enough, but inoffensive.
1 June 1850
We continued up the river, the mountains presenting much the same scenery as yesterday. Passed a low swampy piece of ground before camping, which rests upon a bed of solid ice. This swamp extends over several hundred acres, and ice can generally be found by digging about 2 feet.
2 June 1850
Forded the river and travelled only 14 miles, when we camped to rest our horses. We are in latitude 42 degree, 28 min., 36 sec. I saw a man who was “solecarting” it through, having lost his pack and pony—a hard case, truly.
3 June 1850
Left the river and commenced ascending the principal chain of the Rocky Mountains. Crossed several mountain streams; ridges of upheaval; and the Sweet Water for the last time. The weather has been cold, and this forenoon we were drenched with a cold, driving rain. We crossed several deep drifts of snow, which are melting but slowly. After crossing the river I led my horse over a drift 20 feet deep, and could have stood upon the snow and plucked blossoms from the ground. Passed thro’ Twin Mounds and camped near the river, north of the road. The snowy hills of the Wind River Mountains have been in full view for several days. Grass is scarce.
4 June 1850
This morning our road led through the South Pass of the Rocky Montains. The summit of the pass is over 7000 feet above the level of the sea, but the ascent is very gradual, and when up the highest point, the surrounding country presents the appearance of a broken prairie, with bluffs upon the north and south, and the peaks of mountains visible in the distance. I culled a flower upon the highest point of the Pass, as a momento of our trip. We are now in Oregon, and the waters no longer flow toward the Atlantic. After dinner we reached the junction of the Salt Lake and Sublette’s cutoff. Here we took a vote of the company upon the route, which resulted in the choice of the cut off. I had wished to see the “Great City of the Vale,” and am not sure it would have been the most eligible route, though probably a little out of the way; as we could have procured vegetables and other supplies which some of us need. Yet, if the cut off is nearer our point of destination, let’s up go ahead; a great portion of the emigration has gone the Lake road, and if we can gain five days by taking the cut off, we will be among the first teams into the “diggings.” We here take leave of the “Mormon Emigrants Guide by W. Clayton”—the best road book I ever saw. We are camped on Little Sandy, a stream 20 feet wide.
5 June 1850
I rode ahead this morning, early, to the Big Sandy, 6 miles from camp, to procure a light wagon, if possible from emigrants there, but found it out of the question. The Big Sandy is 130 feet wide and two feet deep. We now enter upon “a desert destitute of water and every trace of vegetation, of 45 miles in extent”—so say the guide books, and I suppose this is the case in August, but we found here in patches the best grazing that we have had yet. The soil is a yellow clay, which being dry renders the roads very dusty. We filled our water casks at the Sandy and camped upon the desert near a large ravine. I saw a grave today which had been rifled by the wolves. At Big Sandy we left our heavy wagon and hitched on to one a little lighter, which was left by one of our company. The fact may as well be admitted now, at once, that our horses have been dragged down on the heavy wagons with which we started. We considered them light, then, but what would do for two horses at home, is too heavy for four on this trip.
6 June 1850
Proceeded on our way across the desert, and after crossing five deep gullys came in sight of the valley of the Green River. The descent into the valley from the plain is very steep and requires care in teamsters. The bluffs bear a crystellated and romantic appearance. The first sight that met us at the ford was a wagon upset in the river; not very cheering, certainly; but we were on the banks of Green River—that stream which will long be remembered, and never come to remembrance but to be cursed by last year’s emigration—and El Dorado was far off on the other side. We did not, therefore, delay long, and immediately set about raising our wagon beds to the top of the standards; which being accomplished we commenced fording. We had to cross three streams, each about 150 feet wide, crossing two islands. The water was from three to four feet deep, and the current very swift, but we accomplished the crossing with but few accidents. Rice lost a buggy wagon, and Applegate was obliged to desert his empty wagon in the stream, which, however, was no loss as he intended leaving it in a few days. A man named George Roseman of Richland Co., Ohio, was drowned here yesterday. Green River rises in the vastness of the Wind River Mountains, and rushing southward, through a country of wild grandeur, takes its course along the base of vast mountains, and across broad plains, till it is joined by Grand River, from the junction of which river it takes the name of the Colorado, and pursues its course to the Pacific.
7 June 1850
Here some of the company have made new traveling arrangements; such as joining teams, procuring light wagons, rigging up carts, &c. We drove southwest, over a hilly road, to a beautiful camping place on a small mountain rill, bordered with pine trees, some of which are 80 feet high. We are grazing our horses tonight on a sward of grass a foot high, and within 200 yards of us is a snow drift ten feet deep. We have passed through the Crow country without seeing a single Indian, albeit we were warned that these would be our worst foes. So far as I have heard no complaint has been made by any emigrant against the Crow, who, when seen, have been uniformly friendly.
8 June 1850
Passed over a rough, rocky road, with a mud hole in every hollow, caused by the melting snow on the mountains. In the afternoon we arrived at Harris’ Fork of Black River, a tributary of Green. This river we found to be at a very high stage; and we were compelled to hoist our wagon beds again. We crossed without any accident whatever, although the ford was very bad. We are camped on the western shore; here we find good grass for our horses.
9 June 1850
We are still in camp. Emigrants are pouring in, but are obliged to ferry in wagon beds today, the river having risen more than a foot. A man from Missouri stopped here today, and reports that he lost a yoke of oxen and all his provisions in Green River, day before yesterday—he has left two yoke of oxen behind with someone, and is pushing ahead to join some of his friends. Had a heavy thunder storm today, but the sun is setting clear and pleasant.
10 June 1850
Leaving Harris’ Fork, we struck N.W. over a beautiful mountain ridge with deep gullys on either side, to a heavy grove of balsam fir trees, where I saw snow banks which had scarce been ouched by the sun. Passed on up a steep hill, from the summit of which I had a view of Bear River far away in the distance. Went down the road travelled last year, a mile and a half; the wagons, however, keeping the new road around the hill, this old road follows down a ravine, steep and narrow; about half way down we came to a “jumping off place” where wagons must be lowered with ropes over a ledge of rock standing at a slant of about 60 degrees. At the bottom of the hill we came upon a small creek where we were over taken by a heavy shower of hail; but we are used to such things now. Traveled over another mountain, and descended to the beautiful valley of Bear River which is several miles wide with steep mountains on both sides rising abruptly from the level bottom land. Towards night we crossed Smith’s Fork, a rapid rushing stream, near a naked peak of rock of most remarkable formation—being layer upon layer of volcanic rock standing on edge, and rising with sharp points to a great height. Grass pretty good; but the mosquitoes—good Lord!
11 June 1850
Travelled up Bear River to Thomas’ Fork, where we had to swim our horses, ferry over our plunder in wagon beds, and draw across our wagons with ropes. Here I saw a few Indians of the ShoShoNe or Snake tribe, but didn’t see anything very attractive about them.—Crossed over some steep hills and camped on Bear River, with good timber, grass and water—an elyseum for an Emigrant save the devilish mosquitoes which swarm above and about us; the evening breeze will soon spring up, though, and we shall be freed from this pest. Flora has dispensed her favors with no lavish hand over that portion of Uncle Sam’s dominions through which we have been travelling for the last two weeks, for I have seen no flowers save occasionally a yellow weed waving its blossoms in the sunshine.
12 June 1850
Our road ran down Bear River valley for 37 miles crossing many small spring branches. At night we camped at the big bend of Bear River, in the midst of Fremont’s “Place of Fountains.” About a mile up a small creek running near our camp is a large calybeate spring, impregnated with iron and soda, and the deposite from which has formed a large hill of shelly limestone colored with iron rust. A number of Snake Indians are in camp, selling trout and trying to swap horses. We had another hail storm today.
13 June 1850
Did some horse swapping with the Indians this morning—trading off some poor horses for poneys, “even up.” Passed round the bend; arrived at the beer or soda spring, on the north side of the road; this spring is constantly kept in a state of effervescence by the escape of gas; the water has an agreeably acid taste, and is quite a pleasant beverage. A little on is the steamboat spring, on a point near the river, to the left of the road; this spring receives its name from a puffing sound caused by the water which ebbs and flows—sometimes gushing out a jet of considerable volume, and then sinking back into the well of the fountain. Three miles further on we arrived at the juncture of the Fort Hall and Hudspeth cut off roads. We took the cut off. Near this point is the old crater of a volcano, now extinct, but the ground, for miles around, seamed with huge, deep chasm, covered with ashes, heaped up with burnt rocks, indicate that its fires once burned with an intense fierceness. The Indians have a tradition concerning this crater, but I haven't time now to tell it. We traveled 12 miles without water to a small creek, thence 4 miles further over wretched roads, and through beautiful scenery, to a creek 20 feet wide and 4 feet deep. Just as we were across safely, and about to camp, the heaviest hail storm that we have had over took us without a minute’s warning. Virtually the “clerk of the weather” can get up a hail storm on shorter notice, and send it down with more rattling, stinging violence in these mountains than anywhere else.—The storm over, we pitched our tents.—Good grass and wood.

From the Ox Train-Valley
of the Great Salt Lake,
Ferry of Bear River

Mr. Editor:

Such are the daily duties of camp life on our emigrating tour to California that I find it almost impossible to keep fairly up with my own correspondence. But so many of the company insist that I become their amanuensis that I snatch a moment to give [an update of our journey since the] Upper Platte ferry, from which point several letters were sent. Here we found six ferry boats continually crossing wagons, and a tremendous gathering of the "emigrants." We here leave the Black Hills and traveling a considerable distance over a very strong alkali region on the north side of the river, arrived at Rock Independence, a singularly oval rock of coarse granite—standing out by itself on the banks of the Sweetwater, of this rock and a few miles before we arrive at it, are two large lakes covering many acres each, several inches in depth with what the emigrants call “saleratus,” but which appears to be by a strict analysis by one of the Professors of the Smithsonian Institute politely shown me by Dr. Richards of Deseret News—pure soda, 49 parts being carbonate of soda, 8 parts sulphate of soda and 41 parts pure water.—It looks much superior to our manufactured soda. Grass through this region is very scarce, and the utmost care is requisite to keep the animals from the poisonous alkali ponds, and springs. The bones of animals lost last year are thickly scattered about these plains, and many have been lost this year. The entire sameness of the scenery on the Platte for so many hundred miles fully prepares one for the appreciation of the beautiful scenery which now continually engages our attention. The Sweetwater Mountains run in circles. Towering barren rocks with here and there a scattering pine or cedar enclosing most beautiful valleys.

While in the South Pass it was very cold. On the 18th of June we had on an entire suit of winter clothing with addition of blankets for cloaks. We camped along side of a bank of snow 12 or 15 feet thick and several rods in length and width.

At the junction of the Fort Hall and Salt Lake road, about 30 miles west of the Pass our companies divided, some of Capt. Lynn’s company going by way of Salt Lake and Pool from Capt. Pence's company going with Lynn via the cut off.—This way we have had splendid grazing for the teams; while on the other road what little there was is so great the suffering must be immense. We arrived in sight of Salt Lake and city on the 1st of July. There is something here very unique, romantic and picturesque, strangely blended, but to attempt a description in our present haste would be futile. It must be deferred. Everything here is enormously high but wagons. Flour has been sold 80 lbs. for $100 and $1 per pound is the standing price, though some of our company traded better. Money is of little use here, every resident has plenty but they are crazy for bacon, dried fruit, and groceries and soap, and will rob themselves of a few pounds of flour or meal so exchange of any of them. One pound of flour for one pound of bacon is the common trade, though some of us in small lots did better—our mess got 3 lbs. meal for one pound of bacon. We are now well supplied with provisions—have traded off all sore-footed cattle for better ones and are going it through “with a rush.”

In the Great Salt Lake City they were to have great times today. We should like to have seen “the doings,” but could not wait. The 24th is the great Mormon day on which they celebrate the entrance of the Pioneers into the Valley, and it is the intention to have “a most splendid time.” Harvest, which promises abundance, will then be over. The Bathing establishment supplied by underground pipes from the hot springs, a few miles above the city, will then be opened. The “golden pass,” which cuts off many miles travel, and a deal of awfully bad road, will be opened into the valley. The emigration of “saints” from the States, and also the return company from the “diggings” are expected in. A Mormon museum, representing the “Smith martyrs” and other portions of their history, is confidently looked for from the States. And a splendid brass band of their own is continually practicing—all for the glorious 24th. This is really a beautiful valley. Running north and south nearly 300 miles and from 60 to 80 miles in width, on the east are towering mountains, dotted over with snowbanks some distance below their summits. Across the valley, opposite the city; the eye rests upon a chain of mountains apparently an hour’s walk, but really a full day’s journey distant. To the northwest lies the Great Salt Lake, like a beautiful scarf, stretching around the base of two large mountain islands which divide its waters in a north and south direction. In every direction the eye meets with snowy peaks, and beautiful, verdant landscape. This valley is capable of sustaining a very large population. The settlements are now scattered some 50 or 60 miles along the east side of the valley. It is really astonishing what these people have accomplished in so short a time. Flourishing farms, neat habitations, and most of the evidences of an enlightened people are now seen where four years since the wild beast and the savage Utah roamed unmolested. It seldom if ever rains here, and all the farms are irrigated. This is easily done, however, by means of the never failing mountain streams which issue from the Mountain canyons at short distances all along the side of the valley. But enough of description.

The Oquawka horse company are but four days ahead of us, at this point. Rockwell but one day, and old Thomas Rodgers who is packing is ahead of us all. Dr. Mangel is in our company. Mr. Roberts, Frank Davis and all the original Pence company, except Pool. All are well and have been so, with the exception of two or three cases of mountain fever, from which the patients are recovering. They were slight attacks.

Several copies of the Deseret News have been ordered to be sent to Oquawka by which you will hear of us and our proximity to the Indian depredations committed by the Utah on the Snakes.

With respect yours, &c., J. W. Jones


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