California 1849-1913 | Page 3

down into the quicksand and became so
imbedded that he could not extricate them. Realizing his perilous
position he at once gave the Masonic Grand hailing sign of distress and
in a moment there were several men in the water on their way to his
relief. They reached him in time and brought him safely into camp.
About this time there was considerable dissatisfaction manifested in
camp on account of the slow progress we were making. Some left the
train and went on by themselves, others realized the necessity of
holding to together to the last in order to protect themselves as well as
to care for those among us who were sick. The peculiar characteristics

of the party at this time seemed to be recklessness and indifference to
the situation, but the better judgment finally prevailed and we went on
in harmony.
The next three hundred miles were devoid of any especial interest. This
brings us to the summit of the Rocky Mountains (at South Pass) which
divides the rivers of the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, and ends their
course thousands of miles apart. Here are the ever snow-capped peaks
of the Wind River Mountains looming up on the north. They are
conical in form and their base is about one thousand feet above the
plain that extends south. This brings us to the nineteenth day of July,
1849. On the night of this day water froze to the thickness of one-fourth
of an inch in our buckets. The following day we commenced
descending the western slope, which was very rapid and rough. The
twenty-first brought us to Green River which was swollen and appeared
to be a great barrier. Here, for the first time, we brought our pontoons
into use and swam the mules, so that after two days of hard work we
were all safely landed on the west bank. We are now at the base of the
Rocky Mountains on the west, passing from one small valley to another,
until we reached a bend in the Bear River. Here let us pause for a
moment and study the wonders of nature.
First, the ground all around is covered with sulphur; here, a spring of
cold soda water; there, a spring of hot soda water; fourth, an oblong
hole about four by six inches in the rocky bank, from which spouts hot
soda water, like the spouting of a whale. It is called "Steamboat
Spring." It recedes and spouts about once in two minutes. All of these
are within a hundred steps of each other.
Now, our canteens, and every available vessel is to be filled with water,
for use in crossing forty-five miles of lava bed, where there is neither
water nor grass to be found and must be accomplished by traveling day
and night. This was called "Subletts' Cutoff," leaving Salt Lake to the
south of us, and brings us to the base of the mountains at the source of
the Humboldt River.
On the west side, in crossing over, we encountered a place in a gorge of
the mountain called "Slippery Ford," now called the "Devil's
Half-Acre." It was a smooth inclined surface of the rock and it was
impossible for the mules to keep their footing. We had great difficulty
in getting over it.

Now we are at the headwaters of the Humboldt River, along which we
traveled for three hundred miles, over an alkali and sandy soil until we
came to a place where it disappeared. This was called the "Sink of the
Humboldt." This valley is twenty miles wide by about three hundred
long. During this part of our journey there was nothing of interest to
note. The water of this river is strongly impregnated with alkali.
About forty miles in a southerly direction from the sink of the
Humboldt (now called the Lake) is old "Ragtown" on the banks of the
Carson River, not far from Fort Churchill. In traveling from one river to
the other there was no water for man or beast. When we were about
half way we found a well that was as salt as the ocean. We reached this
well sometime in the night of the first day and our mules were
completely fagged out, so we left the wagons, turned the mules loose,
and drove them through to the Carson, arriving there on the night of the
second day. Here was good grass and fine water, and bathing was
appreciated to its fullest extent.
We remained for several days to let our animals recruit, as well as
ourselves, then we went back and got the wagons. We traveled
westward through Carson Valley until we entered the Six Mile Canon,
the roughest piece of road that we found between Missouri and
California. There were great boulders from