goldfields

“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.”

“Friday, 30th. Traveled about 5 miles and encamped. Guess what took place; another family was created! Widow Gray, who was sister to Mrs. Kelsey, was married to a man who joined our Company at Fort Larimie. His right name I forget; but his everywhere name, in the mountains, was Cocrum. He had but one eye–marriage ceremony performed by Father De Smet.”

His right name was Richard Phelan, and he was a fur trapper who, with his one eye, spotted the widow Gray and took a fancy to her, which is probably the reason he joined the Bidwell-Bartleson Party at Fort Laramie. His courtship was successful. Since Phelan is an Irish name, he was no doubt a Catholic, and thus the couple was married by Father De Smet, and not by the Rev. Joseph Williams.

The man’s name was Phelan, but his nickname, or “everywhere name” as Bidwell says, was Cockrum.  Or maybe it was Cockrel—that’s the name Jimmy John records.  I haven’t found a first name for Mrs. Gray, but she was the sister of Samuel Kelsey’s wife, who was traveling with her husband and five children. Mrs. Kelsey was undoubtedly happy to have her sister’s help with the kids. Both sisters with their families would go on to Oregon.

“Monday, 26th. Left Green river – moved off in a W. direction – distance 12 miles . . . . Land high, dry, and barren, except upon the streams, which afford grass in abundance; also black currants, which though not delicious are acceptable.”

The next day Bidwell recorded nothing more than “Advanced upstream about 12 miles,” and then he dittoed this entry for the next two days. Nothing very exciting going on. They were in the southwest corner of what is now Wyoming, approaching the Wyoming-Idaho/Utah border. They traveled along Black’s Fork of the Green River. The weather was hot, and the land dry, but the river provided water and grass for their livestock.

Black currants, even if they were not very sweet or delicious, would have provided vital nutrition for the travelers. Black currants have an extremely high level of vitamin C, as well as good levels of potassium, phosphorus, and iron. Excellent for keeping scurvy at bay, and scurvy is always a danger when people are living primarily on meat, as these pioneers were.

John Gray (sometimes spelled Grey) was hired by the Englishman W. G. Romaine as a guide for his summer tour of the American West. Gray was  half Scottish and half Iroquois, a St. Regis Mohawk, born around 1795 in upstate New York.  His father, William L. Gray, had served as a soldier during the American Revolution and then married into the Mohawks of Akwesasne. John Gray also went by the Iroquois name of Ignace Hatchiorauquasha, St. Ignatius being his patron saint.

John Gray, as depicted by Nicholas Point, S.J. Picture from http://www.hunterbear.org/family_stuff.htm

Father Nicholas Point, one of the priests with Father DeSmet, drew this portrait of John Gray while on the trail. The smaller picture is of Gray’s wife.

The Catholic priests had a good opinion of Gray and his abilities. Father Gregory Mengarini records the following:

“So the sun rose and the sun set, and the end of our journey was still over a thousand miles away. Sometimes John Grey would say to me in the morning, “Father, so you see that speck in the distance? Today we must reach there.” “Then our day’s travel will be short,” I would answer. “We shall see,” he would say laughingly. And the hours of the morning would pass and we would be already journeying long under a scorching afternoon’s sun before that speck would achieve appreciable magnitude and distinctness of form.”

Gray entered the fur trade sometime around 1818, about the same time that he married his wife Marienne, also a Mohawk. He was active in the fur trade for the next 25 years or so.

Gray and Romaine, along with four other men, left the wagon train on July 25th to return to the United States. The trip with Romaine was probably the last of Gray’s excursions to the West, after which he retired to his home in Kansas City, Missouri. He was killed in 1848 in a dispute with a neighbor.

For more about John Gray, consult The Mountain Men and the Fur Trade of the Far West, by Leroy R. Hafen, or see the website of his great-great-great grandson Hunter Gray.  (I removed the link because that website is no longer operative.)

“Friday, 23rd. Went to Green river–distance 8 miles–spent the remainder of the day trading with the hunters.

“Saturday, 24th. Remained at this encampment and continued our traffic with the hunters. Chiles sold his oxen, 2 yoke, and wagon, another also was left.”

The hunters, or fur trappers, bought all, or nearly all, the alcohol brought by Bartleson and others, as well as other items, like Chiles’s wagon and ox team. Bidwell doesn’t say what they used to pay for it—whether they had money, or whether they traded goods.

In “The First Emigrant Train to California,” Bidwell relates what became of Fraeb’s party. “Years afterwards we heard of the fate of that party; they were attacked by Indians the very first night after they left us and several of them killed, including the captain of the trapping party, whose name was Frapp. The whisky was probably the cause.” Indeed, the alcohol and the resulting drunkenness would have drawn the attention of Indians. And since by the time Bidwell wrote this recollection he was a Prohibitionist, he does not fail to point the moral.

“Gray returned this evening having found Trapp’s company, which consisted of about 20 men. They had returned to meet our company, though on their way to hunt buffalo, and were now encamped on Green river about 8 miles distant. Gray had suffered much in overtaking the trappers; his mule gave out, there being no water for a great distance, and he himself was reduced so much by hunger and thirst that he was unable to walk. He was therefore compelled to crawl upon his hands and feet, and at last came up with the company in the most forlorn situation imaginable–if they had been another half mile farther, he never could have reached them.”

The man that Bidwell here calls “Trapp,” was generally called “Frapp” by his men. A German-American from St. Louis, his name was actually Henry Fraeb, and he was a veteran fur trapper and one of the founders, with Jim Bridger and William Sublette, of the Rocky Mountain Fur Company.  The Rev. Joseph Williams called his outfit “a wicked, swearing company of men,” which is probably a pretty accurate description of the kind of men who lived far from civilization.

John Gray, who nearly lost his life in pursuit of Frapp’s company, was a half-Mohawk, half-Scottish trapper and trail guide from French Canada. He had been hired by W. G. Romaine as a companion and guide for Romaine’s summer excursion on the plains. If anyone could have found Frapp, it was John Gray, but he was traversing some of the most  unforgiving territory in America, and he was very lucky to survive the ordeal.