goldfields

The Humboldt Valley, as drawn by Daniel A. Jenks in 1849

Tuesday, 5th.  Today was very warm, and the oxen were not able to keep up with the horses. Traveled about 30 miles and stopped on the river about dark – grass plenty, willows – this going so fast was the fault of Capt. B., nothing kept him from going as fast as his mules could possibly travel. But his dependence was on the oxen for beef – for it was now all we had to live upon.

Wednesday, 6th. Company was out of meat and remained till the oxen came up; several Indians came to camp, one of whom we hired to pilot us on.

On horses and mules, and half of them on foot, the Bidwell-Bartleson Party was making its way across Nevada along Mary’s River (the Humboldt River).  They were getting close to the Humboldt Sink, and by continuing to follow the Humboldt, they bypassed Truckee Meadows.

On the 5th it was Bidwell’s turn to drive the oxen, as he recounts many years later in Echoes of the Past. As Bartleson and his companions drove forward on their animals, Bidwell lagged behind with the slow cattle.

That night, far behind the others, he found a patch of grass, unpacked the oxen, and laid down to sleep without supper and without blankets. The next morning he packed the oxen again and started out to find the others.

Not having had supper or breakfast, and having to travel nine miles before I overtook the party, perhaps I was not in the best humor. [Who would be?] They were waiting, and for the very good reason that they could have nothing to eat until I came up with the oxen and one could be killed. I felt badly treated, and let the captain know it plainly; but much to my surprise he made no reply, and none of his men said a word. (Echoes of the Past p. 127)

Imagine having to walk 2 or 3 hours through the rocky wilderness on no breakfast, looking for your flyaway companions. Imagine the others, sitting in camp, no breakfast, waiting for food to show up in the form of an emaciated ox that they would have to slaughter and roast before they could eat. It amazes me that this group did not have more arguments and divisions than it did, and furthermore, that they would all make it to California alive.

Just why Bartleson did not argue with Bidwell we shall see next time. He had a plan.

There were rapid changes in the American political scene during the 1850s.  The Whig Party, led by Henry Clay, was fading. The Democratic Party, the party of Andrew Jackson, was in control. But not for much longer. Sectionalism, slavery, and immigration were splitting the Democrats apart. The Republican Party would soon replace the Whigs as the opponents of the Democrats. And a third party would come along to briefly throw the others into confusion.

This was the Native American Party, better known as the Know-Nothings. They arose as a reaction against the immigration of impoverished Germans and Irish and the subsequent alarming rise in crime and welfare costs. They were strongly anti-Catholic, believing that Catholics were under the control of a foreign power, the Pope.

The party began among anti-Catholic secret societies opposed to Democratic policies. The “Know-Nothing” nickname came about because they were instructed to answer “I know nothing” if asked about these secretive organizations.

Citizen Know-Nothing

The members of the party saw themselves as honest, patriotic, fair-dealing opponents of foreign influence and corruption in politics. Their symbol was Citizen Know-Nothing, an idealized American farmer, handsome, young, and white.

John Bidwell’s friend, Nelson Blake, writing from Boston in 1854, typified the concerns and prejudices of the Know-Nothing Party.

I will fix you up a package of “Bosting” papers as specimens of some of the ‘Isms that are rooted and growing here, prominent among which is “Know Nothingism.” A portion of their creed, as far as can be ascertained that is, I go in for. No man that looks upon the Pope as Christ’s Vice-Regent and infallible is fit to be one of a people who make their own laws and choose their own rulers, for where all are at the “beck and nod” of one man, all are of one mind, and he (the Pope) is Absolute Monarch over them, and if the people go through the formality of electing Officers, you may be certain they are of the right stamp and such as “He” approves of, men after his own heart. Blake to Bidwell, 25 July, 1854

I learn from the papers that there is a shaking among the politicians in Cal. even as elsewhere, but out there from a different cause. Your watch-word is Reform! Ours is Nativism and they are both good. When such a man or Scholar as Orestes A. Brownson cannot write an article to be published until it is submitted to the inspection of Bishop Fitzpatrick or Patrick Somebody! because forsooth he is within the pale of the “Holy Church”? and he though a good Catholic, is still a Yankee born one and must not be trusted too far. When a Religion whose Leader demands that of his followers, comes to meddle in petty States and National politics, or Governments, ‘tis time to say “Hold!” Blake to Bidwell, 17 Sept. 1854

Unfortunately, we do not have Bidwell’s replies to Blake’s letters during the 1850s, so it is difficult to know how Bidwell reacted to these statements, although he did not join the Know-Nothings. We do know that the Know-Nothings were, for one election cycle, a powerful force in California politics.

Next time: The Know-Nothings in California

Our ignorance of the route was complete. We knew that California lay west, and that was the extent of our knowledge. Some of the maps consulted, supposed of course to be correct, showed a lake in the vicinity of where Salt Lake now is; it was represented as a long lake, three or four hundred miles in extent, narrow and with two outlets, both running into the Pacific Ocean, either apparently larger than the Mississippi River.  (Echoes of the Past, p. 111)

A portion of an 1822 map of North America by Henry S. Tanner

The map shown above (which can be examined in its entirety at the University of Tulsa website) is very close to Bidwell’s description. But a close examination of the map shows how little anyone knew about the topography of western America.

The Bidwell-Bartleson Party did not have any maps with them, but John Bidwell had seen a map very much like this one in Missouri in the winter of 1840-41. Look at those rivers! Two large rivers leaving giant Lake Timpanogos and flowing unimpeded to the Pacific Ocean. Another river, the San Buenaventura, flowing from Salt Lake. No wonder some folks told them to take tools for building boats.

The legend of these non-existent rivers had a fairly long life in American cartography. Explorers and settlers wanted a river that would link the Rockies to the West Coast, and make trade and transportation possible. They fastened on reports of much smaller rivers in Utah, like Green River, to create these waterways to the Pacific.

You can see from the map that the distance from the Rockies to the Pacific is underestimated, and the Sierra Nevada range is not shown at all. The distance north to south, from the Columbia River to San Francisco Bay (labeled Port Sir Francis Drake) is also much less than it actually is. And even though a number of the Spanish missions are indicated on the map, the coastline of California is all wrong.

With what feelings of dismay and alarm did Bidwell and his companions face the Nevada desert and the looming Sierras? By this point they knew the maps were wrong, and they were alone. Entirely dependent on their own resourcefulness, they traveled onward, with no way of knowing how far they had yet to go.

We are back on the trail with the Bidwell-Bartleson Party. They spent the last week of September traveling along a stream that they hoped would turn into Mary’s River (the Humboldt). It had been six weeks since the original party had split in two, with half the members going on to Oregon, rather than risk the unknown in the Great Basin. Six weeks of sand, sun, salt plains, and the endless search for grass and water. Bidwell wrote:

October 1st. The stream had already attained the size of which we supposed Mary’s river to be, and yet its course was due N.W. Distance 20 miles.

Saturday, 2nd.  Having traveled about 5 miles, we all beheld with delight the course of the river change to S. W.  Here was excellent grass–it was 3 or 4 feet high, and stood thick like a meadow, it was a kind of bluegrass. The whole valley seemed to be swarming with Indians, but they were very timid.  Their sable heads were seen in groups of 15 or 20, just above the tops of the grass to catch a view of us passing by.

The Humboldt River takes a turn southward where it meets present day Highway 789, about 25 miles east of Winnemucca, Nevada. Then it meanders westward until just north of Winnemucca, where it takes a definite turn to the southwest. Seeing the river turn in the expected direction was a great relief to Bidwell & Co. They were pretty sure that they were on the right track, their animals had sufficient feed, and they had access to water.

They were tired though. In Echoes of the Past Bidwell writes:

From the time we left our wagons many had to walk, and more and more as we advanced. Going down the Humboldt at least half were on foot [including Bidwell]. Provisions had given out, . . . we saw no game except antelope, and they were scarce and hard to kill; and walking was very fatiguing.

So they pressed on, wondering “How much farther to California?”

Saturday, 25th. The creek became perfectly dry and its banks rose to high perpendicular precipices, so that there was no other road than the dry bed of the stream. Having come about 15 miles, we encamped in a place affording a little grass and water, where we could see nothing but the sky. But the men who ascended the precipice to see what was in the prospect ahead said that in about a mile we would come to a valley–this was delightful news.

Traversing the stony dry creek bed made the animals “tender-footed and sore,” a new worry to add to their many others. But the report of the scouts who climbed up the the top of the cliff gave them heart.  There was a valley and a river ahead, and it might be Mary’s River.

They continued on, day after day, through difficult country, still not sure that they were on Mary’s River. They averaged 15-20 miles a day — good progress — but in doubt every step of the way. By September 30th they had spent more than a week on this stream (probably the South Fork of the Humboldt River) that led northward, and they had been told that Mary’s River ran west southwest. Just imagine their anxiety!

Thursday, 23d. We could see no termination of the valley, nore any signs of Mary’s river. We therefore concluded that we were too far south, and passed over the mouintains 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.

Friday, 24th. As we descended the stream it rapidly increased in size, and proved to be the branch of a larger stream. The country was desolate and barren, excepting immediately on the streams, where grew a few willows and cottonwoods.

They were still searching for Mary’s River (the Humboldt), the river that would be their lifeline across the desert.  The prospect was gloomy; this canyon was leading them directly north, not west or south. The advice they had gotten from Fort Hall warned:

“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.”

Could they be too far north, when just days before they had been too far south?

But the report of the scouts who climbed up the the top of the cliff gave them heart.  There was a valley and a river ahead, and it might be Mary’s River.

I surmise that they were on one of the creeks that flows out of the Ruby Mountains north to the Humboldt River, about halfway between present day Elko and Wells. Or possibly they were on a stream that would take them to the South Fork of the Humboldt, and thence north to the 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.