Having accomplished the objects of my mission to New Mexico, by procuring animals and other supplies sufficient to enable the troops at Fort Bridger to make an early march into Salt Lake Valley, I, on the 15th day of March, left Fort Union on my return for Utah, intending to pass around the eastern base of the mountains near Pike's Peak and the headwaters of the Arkansas and Platte rivers, following the Cherokee trail from the Cache la Poudre. The command was well organized, and we made rapid progress for about two hundred and fifty miles, when, on the 27th of March, I received an order from the General in Command in New Mexico, to halt and await reinforcements. I was obliged to obey the order and went into camp upon the headwaters of a small tributary of the Arkansas, called Fontaine qui Bouille, directly at the foot of Pike's Peak and near a very peculiar spring which gives the name to the stream.
This beautiful fountain issues from the center of a basin, or rather bowl, about six feet in diameter, and throws out a column of water near the size of a man's arm. The receptacle, which is constantly filled but never runs over, seems to have been formed by the deposit of salts from the water, and is as perfectly symmetrical and round as if it had been cut out with a chisel. As the fountain is constantly playing and never overflows, it of course has a subterranean outlet. The most remarkable feature, however, in the Fontaine qui Bouille, is the peculiar taste of the water. It is pungent and sparkling and somewhat similar in taste to the water from the Congress spring at Saratoga, but sweeter, and to my palate pleasanter. We drank it every day in large quantities without perceiving any ill effect from it, and the men made use of it instead of yeast in raising their bread, which induced the belief that it contained soda or some other alkali.
The Indians believe it to possess some mysterious powers, the purport of which I could not learn, but there were a great many arrows, pieces of cloth, and other articles that they had deposited in the spring, probably as an offering to the Big Medicine Genius that presided over it. We remained at this place a month, during which time we amused ourselves in hunting elk, mountain sheep, and blacktail deer, all of which were very abundant in the surrounding country, and our larder was constantly supplied with the most delicious game.
Ouray
Chief of the Utes
I remember that one morning just at daybreak, I was awakened by my servant, who told me there was a large herd of elk in close proximity to the camp. I ran out as soon as possible and saw at least five hundred of these magnificent animals, drawn up in line like a troop of cavalry horses, with their heads all turned in the same direction, and from the crest of a high projecting cliff, looking in apparent wonder and bewilderment directly down upon us. It was to me a most novel and interesting spectacle. The noise made in the camp soon frightened them, however, and they started for the mountains. They were pursued for some distance by our hunters, who succeeded in killing six before they escaped.
On the 30th day of April, our reinforcements having joined us, we gladly resumed our march for Utah, and at about one o'clock encamped upon the ridge that divides the Arkansas from the Platte rivers. The day was bright, cheerful, and pleasant, the atmosphere soft, balmy, and delightful. The fresh grass was about six inches high. The trees had put forth their new leaves and all nature conspired in giving evidence that the somber garb of winter had been cast aside for the more verdant and smiling attire of spring. Our large herds of animals were turned out to graze upon the tender and nutritious grass that everywhere abounded. Our men were enjoying their social jokes and pastimes after the fatigues of the day's march and everything indicated contentment and happiness. This pleasant state of things lasted until near sunset, when the wind suddenly changed into the north. It turned cold and soon commenced snowing violently, and continued to increase until it became a frightful winter tempest, filling the atmosphere with a dense cloud of driving snow, against which it was utterly impossible to ride or walk. Soon after the storm set in, one of our herds of three hundred horses and mules broke furiously away from the herdsmen who were guarding them, and in spite of their utmost efforts, ran at full speed directly with the wind for fifty miles before they stopped. Three of the herdsmen followed them as far as they were able, but soon became exhausted, bewildered, and lost on the prairie. One of them succeeded in finding his way back to camp in a state of great prostration and suffering. One of the others was found frozen to death in the snow, and the third was discovered crawling about upon his hands and knees in a state of temporary delirium, after the tempest subsided. This terrific storm exceeded in violence and duration anything of the kind our eldest mountaineer had ever beheld. It continued with uninterrupted fury for sixty consecutive hours and during this time it was impossible to move for any distance facing the wind and snow. One of our employes who went out about two hundred yards from the camp, set out to return, but was unable to do so and perished in the attempt. Several antelope were found frozen upon the prairie after the storm.... At the termination of this frightful tempest, there was about three feet of snow upon the ground, but the warm rays of the sun soon melted it, and after collecting together our stampeded animals, we again set forward for Utah and on the third day following, struck the South Platte at its confluence with Cherry Creek. There was at that time but one white man living within one hundred and fifty miles of the place, and he was an Indian trader named Jack Audeby, on the Arkansas.
A year later, after the Pike's Peak mining excitement had started, Marcy issued a handbook for overland expeditions, in which he says, referring to a point at the mouth of Monument Creek, which he calls the forks of the Fontaine qui Bouille:
The road to Cherry Creek here leaves the Fontaine qui Bouille and bears to the right. There is a large Indian trail which crosses the main creek and takes a northwesterly course towards Pike's Peak. By going up this trail about two miles, a mineral spring will be found which gives the stream its name of "The Fountain that Boils." This spring, or rather these springs, for there are two, both of which boil up out of the solid rock, are among the greatest natural curiosities that I have ever seen. The water is strongly impregnated with salts, but is delightful to the taste and somewhat similar to the Congress water. It will well compensate one for the trouble of visiting it.