The summer is the dreaded season in Death Valley. A temperature of one hundred and thirty-seven degrees has been reported by the Pacific Coast Borax Company at the mouth of Furnace Creek. This temperature was recorded in the shade, and is the hottest ever experienced in the United States. In the sun it is of course much hotter. Many a person has lost his life in trying to cross the heated valley in the middle of a summer day instead of making the journey at night.
FIG. 73.—ENTERING DEATH VALLEY
Dangerous as this region is, even now when we know so much about it, it was of course much more dangerous for the first white men who entered it. Only those who have had some experience upon the desert can realize the difficulties and dangers which beset the first emigrants who attempted to cross the deserts lying between Salt Lake City and the Sierra Nevada mountains. The story of the sufferings and final escape of that party which, by taking the wrong course, was lost in the great sink, is extremely interesting although sad. The valley received its name from the experiences of the members of this party.
In the latter part of 1849 many emigrants, who had reached Salt Lake City too late in the season to take the usual route through northern Nevada and over the Sierra Nevada mountains, decided that rather than remain in the town all winter, they would follow the south trail across southern Nevada to San Bernardino and Los Angeles.
A party of people finally collected with one hundred and seven wagons and about five hundred horses and cattle. The course led in a southwesterly direction past Sevier Lake and Mountain Meadows in southwestern Utah. In the latter locality the party divided, the larger number leaving the old trail and taking a more westerly direction. They thought in this way to shorten the distance, and hoped, by skirting the southern end of the Sierra Nevada mountains, to-gain the San Joaquin Valley in California.
Now trouble began. No one had ever been over the new route, and the location of the springs and the passes through which the wagons could be taken had to be sought out in advance. Soon many of the party turned back to the known trail, but the others continued, though with no knowledge of the nature of the country which they must cross.
Day after day and week after week the slow ox-teams crawled across the broad deserts and over the low mountain ranges. From the top of each successive mountain ridge the men looked with longing eyes toward the west, hoping to get a sight of the snowy Sierras. Finally want of water and food began to weaken the cattle and the wagons were lightened as much as possible.
As the party approached the eastern boundary of California the mountains grew higher and the deserts more arid. In the clear air the snow-covered peaks of the Panamint Range began to be visible, although one hundred miles away. The weary emigrants believed that these peaks belonged to the Sierra Nevadas, and that beyond them lay the green valleys of California. How great was their mistake! The Panamint Range looks down upon Death Valley with a bold and almost impassable front, while still other broad deserts lie between this range and the real Sierras.
Upon reaching the head of the Amargosa River the party began to separate, for by this time many thought only of saving their lives at any cost. Some followed Furnace Creek to its sink in Death Valley; others went over the Funeral range and came down upon the lower portion of the Amargosa River. In many cases the wagons were abandoned and the oxen were killed for food.