goldfields

“Thursday, 23rd.  We could see no termination of the valley, nor any signs of Mary’s river. We therefore concluded that we were too far south, and passed over the mountains to the north, where we struck a small stream running toward the NW. On this we encamped and found plenty of grass, a few fish were caught, some of which were trout, which led us to the conclusion that this was a branch of Mary’s river. Distance 18 miles.”

Back on September 9th Captain Bartleson and another man had returned from a scouting trip with the news that the head of Mary’s River (the Humboldt River) was only 5 days travel away.  Two weeks later the company still hasn’t reached the river, and Bidwell makes no mention of Bartleson’s exploration. Were they following the trail forged by Bartleson? It doesn’t seem so. Instead, the men were questioning the four who had gone to Fort Hall for instructions.  What was the advice?

“If you go too far south you will get into a desert country and your animals will perish; there will be no water or grass.” Well, they had seen some of that, which is why they turned northward. But it wouldn’t be long before they would be quizzing the men again, because the other half of the instructions said:

“You must not go too far north; if you do you will get into difficult canyons that lead towards the Columbia River, where you may become bewildered and wander about and perish.” A difficult canyon was exactly what they soon found themselves in.

What a dilemma! North, south, desert, canyon, was there no end to the search for Mary’s River?

“Wednesday, 22nd.  This morning 80 or 90 Indians were seen coming full speed from the W. Many had horses–one was sent about a half a mile in advance from the rest–so we ought also to have done, but Capt. B. was perfectly ignorant of Indian customs, and the whole band of savages were suffered to come directly up to us, and almost surround our camp, when Mr. B. Kelsey showed by forcible gestures they would be allowed to proceed no farther. The Indians were well armed with guns and bows and arrows. The only words I recollect hearing Capt. Bartleson say were “let them gratify their curiosity!!”

This incident further sunk Bartleson’s reputation in John Bidwell’s eyes. The custom on the plains was for parties meeting for the first time to send out “ambassadors” to check each other out and find out what the other party’s intentions were. Did they want to trade? Did they need help? Or were they looking for trouble? Bartleson, by carelessly ignoring this custom, was endangering the entire company.

The Indians, as it turned out, were Shoshones, and friendly, although obviously capable of inflicting damage if they so chose. “Besides,” says Bidwell, “they were not a little acquainted with warfare, for they undoubtedly visited the Buffalo Country (having many robes) which requires much bravery to contend with the Blackfeet and Chiennes, who continually guard their buffalo in the region of the Rocky mountains.”

The Indians did want to trade, and offered a dressed buckskin for a handful of ammunition. They then rode on either side of the Bidwell-Bartleson Party for several hours, until they gradually dropped off and went their way.

“Tuesday, 21st.  Hunters returned; many antelope were seen and 2 or 3 killed. About 10 o’clock a.m. as we were coasting along the mountain in a W. direction, we came to some hot springs, which were to me a great curiosity. Within the circumference of a mile there were perhaps 20 springs, the most of which were extremely beautiful, the water being so transparent we could see the smallest thing 20 or 30 feet deep. The rocks which walled the springs, and the beautifully white sediment lodged among them, reflected the sun’s rays in such a manner as to exhibit the most splendid combination of colors, blue, green, red, etc. I ever witnessed. The water in most of them was boiling hot. There was one, however, more beautiful than the rest; it really appeared more like a work of art than nature. It was about 4 feet in diameter, round as a circle, and deeper than we could see–the cavity looked like a well cut in a solid rock, its walls being smooth and perpendicular. Just as I was viewing this curiosity, some hunters came up with some meat. We all partook, putting it into the hot spring, where it cooked perfectly done in 10 minutes—this is no fish story!”

George R. Stewart, in The California Trail, writes: “One sure point is marked by the hot springs which they passed on September 21 and which Bidwell described in some detail. These beautiful springs still bubble out near the base of the Ruby Mountains, just as they did when Bidwell saw them.”

If I can find any more information about where these springs are, or any pictures of them, I’ll add that in a subsequent post.

“Saturday, 18th. Morning found us on the east side of a mountain not far from its base but there were no signs of water; the lost oxen not having come up, I, in company with another young man, went in search of them while the company went on, promising to stop as soon as they found water. I went back about 10 miles, but found nothing of their trail–the sun was in a melting mood–the young man became discouraged and in spite of all my entreaties returned to the company.”

The young man who went with John Bidwell to search for the oxen was “Cheyenne” Dawson. Under the hot summer sun he gave up, saying that there were plenty of cattle in California. Which was true, but Bidwell had to go on, since the oxen were carrying everything he possessed.

Water in the company was in very short supply. Before they left on their search they were given about a half cup (4 oz.) of water each. This was all they had until the next day.

“About an hour after [Dawson departed] I found the trail of the oxen which bore directly north. After pursuing it some distance, I discovered fresh moccasin tracks upon the trail, and there began to be high grass, which made me mistrust the Indians had got the oxen. But my horse was good and my rifle ready. . . . But what made me most anxious to find the oxen was the prospect of our wanting them for beef. We had already killed 4 oxen and there were but 13 remaining, including the lost ones, and the Co. was now killing an ox every two or three days.”

After 10 miles of following their tracks, Bidwell found the oxen where they had stopped to lay down in the grass. He got them up and moving, hastening to rejoin the company. They had promised to stop and wait for him when they found water.

“I traveled all night,and at early dawn came to where there was plenty of water and where the company had taken their dinner the day before, but they had failed to stop for me according to promise.” (Bidwell was decidedly miffed at this.) He searched in ever widening circles until he saw three men who were coming to find him.

“It was a great relief. I felt indignant that they party had not stopped for me–not the less so when I learned that Captain Bartleson had said, when they started back to find me, that they “would be in better business to go ahead and look for a road.” He had not forgotten certain comments of mine of his qualities as a student of Indian character.”

Obviously there was no love lost between those two. Bidwell, who considered himself a good judge of character and a man of “self-possession,” considered Bartleson to be a hot-headed ignoramus. Certainly it is true that Bartleson would do nothing in the future to distinguish himself.

I’m still playing catch-up with John Bidwell.  When last we saw our intrepid band of 32 men, 1 woman, and a baby, the Kelseys had abandoned their wagons and packed everything on horses. On the 15th, after “two or three fatiguing days,” the rest of the company decided to do the same.

“Thursday, 16th. All hands were busy making pack saddles and getting ready to pack.”

In “Echoes of the Past” Bidwell describes the process. “On Green River we had seen the style of packing saddles used by the trapping party, and had learned a little about how to use them. Packing is an art, and something only an experienced mountaineer can do well so as to save his animal and keep his pack from falling off. We were unaccustomed to it, and the difficulties we had at first were simply indescribable. It is much more difficult to fasten a pack on an ox than a mule or a horse.

The trouble began the very first day. But we started, most of us on foot, for nearly all the animals, including several of the oxen, had to carry packs. It was but a few minutes before the packs began to turn; horses became scared, mules kicked, oxen jumped and bellowed, and articles were scattered in all directions.”

It was a scene both comic and desperate. As they went along those who had their packs tied securely got ahead, while others lagged behind to pick up the items that fell by the wayside and repack their animals. On the 17th they traveled throughout the day and into the night. They crossed a dry plain, where the salt on the grass in the moonlight, and the cool evening nighttime temperature, gave the impression of a winter scene. During that night Bidwell’s two oxen went astray.

“Two of the oxen that were carrying packs got lost from the Company in the night, about 8 miles from where we encamped, but it was supposed they would follow on.” But they didn’t, and Bidwell had to go in search of them.

“Sunday, 12th. Mr. Kelsey left his wagons and took his family and goods on pack horses, his oxen not being able to keep up. Distance today about 12 miles.”

The Bidwell-Bartleson Company party was finding out just how arduous travel in the desert could be. Their wagons bogged down in the dry sandy soil, and the travel-weary oxen had not the strength to pull the wagons through the shifting sand. Precious time was passing while they struggled to move the wagon train along.

When their animals could no longer drag the wagons through the sand, Ben and Nancy Kelsey decided to abandon the wagons and pack all their goods on the horses. The rest of the company would do the same shortly.

Nancy Kelsey many years later. This is the only photograph of her.

Benjamin Kelsey must have had two wagons, pulled by oxen, as well as horses to ride. His wife Nancy rode most of the trail on a horse, with baby Ann riding in front of her.  Ann was about one year old, and Nancy was eighteen.

Nancy was the only woman in the group that headed for California. She had said goodbye to her sister-in-law and the other women when the company split in two at Soda Springs. When people asked Nancy why she had ever started on such a difficult journey into unknown dangers, she said, “Where my husband goes I can go. I can better stand the hardships of the journey than the anxieties for an absent husband.”

I have fallen behind on the trail!  John Bidwell & Company are getting ahead of me. Let’s go back a week and see where our intrepid pioneers were on Sept. 9th.

“Thursday, 9th.  The part of the Company that remained yesterday went on and overtook the 2 wagons.  Capt. Bartleson & Hopper returned, bringing intelligence that they had found the head of Mary’s river—distant about 5 days’ travel. Distance traveled today about 12 miles S.W. direction. The Indians stole a horse—day cool. ”

Two wagons (or the men with them) had gotten tired of waiting and moved on ahead a couple of days previous. Then on the 5th the rest of the Company began moving forward, with the aim of meeting up with the returning scouts, “grass having become scarce” where they had camped for a week.

At last on the 9th Bartleson came back with the cheering news that Mary’s River (the Humboldt) was only 5 days away. The company pressed on, unaware that it would take more than 5 days to get to the river.

“Friday, 3rd. Four or 5 Indians came to camp–bought three horses of them.

Saturday, 4th.  Bought a few serviceberries of the Indians.”

Bidwell & Co. were still encamped by a spring in the foothills, while Capt. Bartleson and one other man went ahead to search for Mary’s River. Their animals were worn out and under-nourished, and they stayed here a week to allow the livestock to recuperate.

Bidwell doesn’t say who in the company bought the horses, but he may have bought one of them. He didn’t start out the journey with a horse, but pretty soon, when he has to go looking for his two lost oxen, he will have a horse to ride. So either someone loaned him a horse, which seems unlikely, or he bought one along the way.

The local Indians—Shoshones—were happy to trade horses, game, or berries for cartridges and other useful items. The travelers were still wary of the Indians, because they never knew whether the natives they encountered would be friendly or not. But once they had established a friendly trading relationship, things went well.

“Sunday, 29th. Capt. Bartleson with C. Hopper started to explore the route to the head of Mary’s river, expecting to be absent about 8 or 9 days–the Company to await here his return.

Monday, 30th. Nothing of importance occurred.

Tuesday, 31st. No success hunting.

September. Wednesday, 1st. An ox killed for beef.

Thursday, 2nd. Idle in camp.”

Having found “an excellent spring of water” in the foothills on August 27, the Company decided to stay put until the route ahead to Mary’s River (the Humboldt River) could be explored. They had determined to “run no more risk of perishing for want of water in this desolate region.” This was the best they could do under the circumstances, with no map and no guide.

Thomas “Broken-Hand” Fitzpatrick had given them the idea that they would come to the river a few days west of the Great Salt Lake, and by following the river they could cross “this desolate region.”  But he wasn’t really very familiar with this part of the territory, and they hadn’t found it yet. The head of the river was actually more than 100 miles from where they were now located, some 50 miles northwest of the Great Salt Lake.

So Captain Bartleson went off to explore, and the rest of the company settled in to wait. They had met a few Shoshone Indians, and traded with them for venison and berries, using cartridges of powder and ball as currency. Their only worry was, would they be able to make it across the desert and the mountains before winter blocked the way?