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Thursday, September 28, 1865. We left our camp here very early in the morning. We were a
worn out bunch of Pioneers that drove down onto the banks of Burnt River shortly after
dinner that day, but a very thankful bunch for this was to be our last long trip
without water. We drove no farther that day but took the remainder of the day for
a much needed rest.
Friday, September 29. After this rest with plenty of water, we drove about eight miles in the morning and camped at the "express ranch" for dinner. That afternoon drove ten miles more to where we camped for the night at what was called "Straw Ranch". these were both thriving ranches for that day, and it was very encouraging to our weary train to see signs of home life once more after the long distance across barren wastes. Saturday, September 30. We have driven only about six miles this morning, until we stop for dinner close to the Illinois Cattle Ranch. We have traveled many long, weary days, enduring many hardships, and here we are camped for dinner today close beside a big stock ranch bearing the name of our home state from whence we started on our long pilgrimage. That afternoon we drove down through the little town of Baker City and camped for the night and on over the Sabbath day on the morrow, just outside city limits. Sunday, October 1. this was to be our first Sabbath, but not our last that we spent in Oregon. It was spent by many in our train with thankful hearts and songs of praise, for the guiding hand of the Father above That night we all gathered around the camp and sang hymns. Monday, October 2. We were fresh after our days' rest and were more than eager to be on our way once more. That forenoon we drove eight miles and camped for dinner on the Powder River Slough, where there was a plenty of fine luscious meadow grass for our stock, and once again we were a happy contented band of Pilgrims. That afternoon we drove out over the dry hills for a long ways and finally made a dry camp for the night. Tuesday, October 3. After a short drive this morning we came to the Big Powder River where we rested until after dinner. This is a fine stream and was a nice place to camp. And had we not all be so over-anxious to get to the end of our journey, it would have been a great joy for us to have camped right here for several days, but as it was, soon after dinner we were on our way and drove on down to the Little Powder River, where we camped for the night. Wednesday, October 4. We passed the Sixteen Mile House quite early this morning, and took dinner out on the prairie, and that afternoon drove on into La Grande. We camped out in the edge of the town, and a number of the families of the train went up into the town to get supplies and information. Thursday, October 5. It seems that we just couldn't get the caravan into motion this morning, and only drove a short distance before stopping for dinner. And that night we camped on the Grande Round River away up in the mountains. The nights are getting mighty cold and the morning nippy. Friday, October 6. Today we camped for dinner on Dry Creek, where its small stream came tumbling down towards the lower levels of the Grand Round Valley through which we passed during the day. It has been very hard for us to find any fresh vegetables now for quite a while, for this is getting late in the fall and in many places there has already been a visit from that old rascal "Jack Frost" who always puts a stop to the future growth of all tender plants. There were several large fields of Irish potatoes in the Grand Round Valley that were yet undug, and there were several families of our train who tried to purchase some from the farmers, but they all refused to sell any. My Father said that if were ever tempted in his life to steal, this was the one time, for we were in such a dire need of the potatoes. 
That afternoon
we climbed on up the Blue mountain and camped for the night at the Summit House, which is located right
on top of the divide, between the Grande Round River, which flows to the North and East,
and Meacham Creek that flows in the exact opposite direction, South and West.
And now we can say that our emigrant road has led us from the broad banks of the Mighty Missouri
out to where the waters of the Meacham wends its winding way from the snow capped peaks of
the Blue Mountains in eastern Oregon to where its waters join those of the
Wild Willamette and then their mingled waters flow on to meet the rise and ebb of the
tide of the Briny Deep.
Saturday, October 7. As we leave the Summit House this morning, and begin our long last descent down the western slopes of the Blue Mountains, we can begin to realize for the first time that our conquest will soon be over. Meacham Creek is a wonderful mountain stream, gathering force with each succeeding stream that joins its mass of clear, cold waters from the mountain heights, with those of the seething, foaming waters of the Meacham. There is an abundance of fine fish in this steam if we could have only spare the time to cast a line. But our thoughts at this time are not on catching fish, but rather to get to our journey's end ere the winter rains and snows make the roads impassable, or the streams swollen until we could not ford them. We stopped for dinner among the pine trees on the banks of the bright clear stream. That night was spent in camp at Crawford's Station, well down the Western Slope. Sunday, October 8. We followed along the banks of the fast descending stream all the forenoon and camped on the banks for dinner for our last time. Then immediately after we started in the afternoon we struck the rolling foothills where there was a continuation of one small stream right after another, and since each of these small streams had, through the past generations washed deeper and deeper into the soft soil of this country, it was necessary for us to do much up and down hill climbing for some time. Night found us camped on the small stream of Hay Creek. There is an abundance of fine dry feed all through this section and our stock are strong and we are making good headway each day. This is another Sabbath, but everyone is now eager to be traveling--even those with a decided trend toward the preservation of the Sabbath Day as a Holy Day. Monday, October 9. All forenoon today it has been just one continuation of down, fording a small stream then climbing back out on top again, only to go a short distance and repeat the same thing over and over again until we finally stop on one of the streams for dinner. During the afternoon we drove eight miles and camped for the night on Alder Creek. Tuesday, October 10. As we get out on the the lower levels, we are gradually finding these small streams farther and farther apart, thus saving us a lot of up and down roads. We took dinner today on a small stream, and then during the afternoon crossed over Butter Creek and camped for the night out on top of a rolling hill. We are getting nearer and nearer to our destination's end at the close of each day. Wednesday, October 11. The section of the country we are now traveling through has an abundance of feed, and with living streams every few miles there is no trouble for us to find a place to camp either for noon or night; and after a good hard day's trip today we have camped for the night at Willow Springs. Thursday, October 12. Our stock are now holding their own in flesh and strength, and while we really should stop over for a few days in order to let their weary limbs rest from the constant travel, we are loath to do so, for our impatience to arrive at our journey's end is too great. So we keep right on plugging along through the entire day and camp for the night on a pretty little steam called Willow Creek. Friday, October 13. It was noon today before we left camp as there were several of our wagons that needed the brakes repaired for the safety of the occupants. This meant a lot of hewing and fitting. That afternoon we drove as far as Cedar Springs where we stopped for the night. Saturday, October 14. We camped on a small stream for dinner and that afternoon drove on over to the banks of the Umatilla River where we camped for the night. Sunday, October 15. We crossed the Umatilla River this morning and headed out over the hills that formed the happy hunting grounds for the Umatilla Indians, and that night camped far out in the Vancicle Hills. Monday, October 16. If everything goes well, we will be at the end of our journey. By noon we are down out of the hills and we stopped for dinner on the Walla Walla River, not far from the site of the Doctor Whitman massacre. We have now crossed over the Oregon Line into the Territory of Washington. In the afternoon with everyone at the height of excitement we moved up the Walla Walla River to within sight of the Government Cavalry Garrison, known as Fort Walla Wall, where we pitched out last camp as an emigrant train. We soon located those Illinois friends and neighbors who had come on a couple of years before, and thee was a great rejoicing at this meeting. Father then took up a homestead of 160 acres just across the line into Oregon, where he built a log house in the early spring of 1866. Here he lived and raised his family and took an active part in the country's development. Father and Mother died here and are buried in the Ford Cemetery in the McDannald plot, along with other members of the family who have passed on. Mother was first to pass on March 8, 1887 and Father passed away on January 15, 1890, at the age of seventy-three years. This now completes what I have of this history of the journey from Illinois to Oregon, April 25, 1865 to October 16, 1865. |
