goldfields

“Thursday, 26th. Traveled all day over dry barren plains, producing nothing but sage, or rather, as it ought to be called, wormwood, and which I believe will grow without water or soil. Two men were sent ahead to search for water, but returned a little while before dark, unsuccessful.

Our course intersected an Indian trail, which we followed directly north towards the mountains, knowing that in these dry countries the Indian trails always lead to the nearest water. Having traveled till about 10 o’clock p.m. made a halt, and waited until morning. Distance about 30 miles.”

This was one of those days when they traveled all day in the hot sun, hoping to find fresh water, and saw nothing but sand, salt, and sagebrush. Another day like that might have killed them all.

Sagebrush will certainly grow with very little water. Although its scent is similar to sage, it is not related to true sage (Salvia). It is a species of the genus Artemisia, which also includes wormwood and tarragon, so Bidwell got his plant identification right. It covers large swaths of the Western plains, and is the state flower of Nevada.

“Tuesday, 24th.  Cattle strayed this morning to seek water–late start–day was warm–traveled about 10 miles in a W. direction, encamped where we found numerous springs, deep, clear, and somewhat impregnated with salt. The plains were snowy white with salt. Here we procured salt of the best quality. The grass that grew in small spots on the plains was laden with salt which had formed itself on the stalks and blades in lumps, from the size of a pea to that of a hen’s egg. This was the kind we procured, being very white, strong and pure.”

10 miles in a day was good progress under the conditions.  Oxen could pull a wagon at 2 or 3 miles per hour for about 5 hours a day, so 15 miles a day was pretty much the maximum. But day after day of 10-15 miles a day would wear a team down. They had to eat, they had to have water, and they had to have rest.

By the time Bidwell & Co. got to the Great Basin, they had been traveling for nearly four months. The last few weeks had been especially hard on the animals. They couldn’t keep up this pace–not on salty water and dry grass. Bidwell and his friends were finding that they had to rest the animals more and more often, and indeed on the 25th they would stay put, giving the oxen a chance to recuperate. But they couldn’t afford to delay either, so the next day they would harness up the oxen and be on the trail again.

“Sunday, 22nd.  This morning a man (Mr. Brolaski) returned from the Fort, and said the reason why he came alone was the other men had left him, because he was unable to keep up with them; he having a pack horse laden with provision. He had seen the paper at the intersection of the trails, and was guided by it to the camp; the other were undoubtedly going the rounds of the triangle. Sure enough, they came up in the afternoon, having gone to the river and back; no pilot could be got at the Fort. . . . They procured flour at 50 cents per pint, sugar same price, and other things in proportion. Near where we were camped here were a few hackberry trees.”

Hackberry trees bear small, sweet, edible fruit resembling cherries. That must have been welcome, although Bidwell also mentions finding excellent chokecherries.

The lack of a pilot was not welcome news. The company badly needed a guide across the Great Basin, but there was none to be had. They were on their own. Cue the ominous music.

Bidwell & Co. were traveling slowly southward through Cache Valley, in what is now northern Utah. Sometimes they followed the Bear River, other times they had to leave the river and “journey over hills and ravines, going to almost every point of the compass to avoid them.” It was August, the weather was hot, and basically they were lost.

“Thursday, 19th. Started early hoping soon to find fresh water [they had found none the day before], when we could refresh ourselves and our animals, but alas! The sun beamed heavy on our heads as the day advanced, and we could see nothing before us but extensive arid plains, glimmering with heat and salt. At length the plains became so impregnated with salt that vegetation entirely ceased; the ground was in many places white as snow & perfectly smooth–the mid-day sun, beaming with uncommon splendor upon these shining plains, made us fancy we could see timber upon the plains, and wherever timber is found there is water always. We marched forward with unremitted pace till we discovered it was an illusion, and lest our teams should give out we returned from S. to E. and hastened to the river which we reached in about 5 miles.”

It sounds like they were wandering around the Bonneville Salt Flats, but that area is further west. They were actually a few miles north of the Great Salt Lake, in a similar desert region that is still largely uninhabited.

The water was so salty that they couldn’t use it, and yet they had to use it or die of thirst. “It would not quench thirst, but it did save life.” They would spend several days in this perilous region before they found good water.

“I, in company with another man (J. John), went some distance below the camp to fish in the river; fished sometime without success–concluded we could spend the afternoon more agreeably.”

So begins the journal version of a story John Bidwell told seemingly every time he told about his overland journey to California. He and James “Jimmy” John had time to go fishing because the company was waiting for the return of the four men they had sent to Ft. Hall for supplies and information. The day was hot, and looking across the valley they could see a mountain with inviting patches of snow.

“Supposed the snow not more than 4 miles distant; set out without our guns knowing they would be a hindrance in ascending the mountain.”

They walked and walked, but the mountain never seemed to get any closer. Bidwell suggested they return to camp, but Jimmy gave him a scornful look and kept walking. “I called to him to stop, but he would not even look back. A firm resolve seized me to overtake him, but not again to ask him to return.”

“The rocks were sharp, and soon cut through our moccasins and made our feet bleed. But up and up we went until long after midnight, and until a cloud covered the mountain.” In the dark they crawled under a stunted tree and lay there shivering. They had no coats or blankets to keep them warm.  “When daylight came we discovered we had lain in the nest of a grizzly bear. The hair was rubbed off the brush and there were all the signs of the grizzly’s lair.”

As soon as day dawned they continued up the mountain and found the snow. It had hardened into ice, but John cut a large piece out with his knife and wrapped it in his handkerchief. They decided to take a shorter but steeper route back to the camp.

“At first the way was smooth and easy but soon we were sliding down in the snow and mud with our buckskin suits wet and bedraggled. This way soon led into a most rugged canyon and thickets so dense that it became impossible to pass through them except in the trails of the grizzly bears. . . . We carried our sheath knives in our hands at every step, for we knew not at what instant we would meet a bear face-to-face.”

The two footsore adventurers limped across the hot valley until at last they came into camp about noon. “They supposed without a doubt, that the Blackfeet had got us, had been up all night in guard, every fire had been put out, they had been out twice in search of us and were about to start again when we arrived. We were received with a mixture of joy and reprehension.”

“Their first questions were “Where have you been?” “Where have you been?” I was able to answer triumphantly, “We have been up to the snow!”  and to demonstrate the fact by showing all the snow I had left, which was now reduced to a ball about the size of my fist.” (The First Emigrant Train to California)

He was lucky that someone didn’t beat him over the head with that chunk of ice.

“Wednesday, 11th. Having traveled about 6 miles this morning the Company came to a halt–the Oregon Company were now going to leave the Bear river for Ft. Hall . . .  Many who purposed in setting out to go immediately through to the California, here concluded to go into Oregon so that the California company now consisted of only 32 men and one woman and child . . . The two companies, after bidding each other a parting farewell, started and were soon out of sight. Several of our Company, however, went to Ft. Hall to procure provision, and to hire if possible a pilot to conduct us to the Gap in the California mountains, or at least to the head of Mary’s river.”

Their guide, Captain Fitzpatrick, had already told the Bidwell-Bartleson Party to give up their plans to travel to California. He advised them to travel with the missionaries and then continue on to Oregon.  If they still wanted to get to California, they could winter in Oregon and continue their journey next spring.

The direct route to California lay across dangerous unmapped territory, with no roads and no guideposts. Fitzpatrick was not familiar with the region, but he said he had heard of trappers that had explored the country to the west and the south of Salt Lake, looking for beaver. The company hoped to find a guide at Fort Hall, and sent four men to inquire, but they would not find anyone there to guide them.

They would also not find any “Gap” in the California mountains, but that realization lay six arduous weeks in the future.  Bidwell had seen a map back in Missouri that showed two rivers flowing from the Great Basin through California to the Pacific Ocean. They were still hoping to follow one of those rivers to the sea.

“After getting all the information we could from Captain Fitzpatrick, we regretfully bade good-bye to our fellow emigrants and to Father De Set and his party.  We were now thrown entirely upon our own resources. All  the country beyond was to us a veritable terra incognita, and we only knew that California lay to the west.” (The First Emigrant Train to California)

“Sunday, 8th. Started about noon and went ten miles; scenery of the country was grand.”

Bear River Valley--a photo taken by Charles R. Savage in 1869.

For the last few days Bidwell’s entries had been of this type. The two companies (Bidwell’s and De Smet’s) were still traveling together, but not for much longer. They were following the Bear River as it wound northward along what is now the Wyoming-Utah-Idaho border. Bidwell uses the word “beautiful” over and over to describe the picture of the river as it meandered through high bluffs. And there were wild currants too, “some of which were of an excellent quality.”