Palmer's Journal of Travels Over the Rocky Mountains, 1845-1846

by Joel Palmer

After traveling about ten miles, we reached the prairie. It was covered with grass, and was very wet. A red sediment {72} of about two inches in depth covered the surface of the ground in the grass, such as is found around mineral springs. A beautiful clear stream of water was running through the prairie, in a southeast direction. We had seen a prairie about two miles further south, much larger than this, which we supposed to be dry. We now took our course for camp, intending to strike through the gap to the mouth of the small branch; but we failed in finding the right shute, and came out into the bottom, three miles above where we had first struck the cattle or Indian trail. We then took down the bottom, and arrived in camp about eleven o'clock at night; and although not often tired, I was willing to acknowledge that I was near being so. I certainly was hungry, but my condition was so much better than that of my two friends, that I could not murmur. Our party had worked the road up to the small branch, where they were encamped.

On the morning of the 13th of October we held a consultation, and determined upon the future movements of the company. The party designated to bring us provisions had performed that service; but the amount of our provisions was nearly exhausted, and many of the party had no means of procuring more. Some of them began to despair of getting through this season. Those left with the camp were unable to keep the cattle together, and a number of them had been lost. The Indians had stolen several horses, and a variety of mishaps occurred, such as would necessarily follow from a company so long remaining in one position. They were now on a small creek, five miles from Stony hill, which we called Camp creek, and near the timber. It was impossible to keep more than one third of the men working at the road; the remainder were needed to attend the camp and pack provisions. It was determined to send a party and view out the road, through to the open country, near the mouth of Clackamis, whilst the others were to open the road as far as the big prairie; a number sufficient to bring up the teams and loose cattle, (for a number of families with their cattle had joined since ours left, and portions of our company did not send their loose cattle,) to a grassy prairie in this bottom, and near the mouth of this creek, as the time required to pack provisions to those working on the road would be saved. All being arranged, the next thing was to designate the persons to go ahead of the party, and if found practicable to return with provisions and help; or at all events to ascertain whether the route were practicable.

{73} It was determined that I should undertake this trip. I asked only one man to accompany me. We took our blankets, a limited supply of provisions, and one light axe, and at eight o'clock in the morning set out. I was satisfied that the creek which we were then on, headed in the low gap, seen from Mount Hood; and the party were to open the road up this branch. But as I was to precede them, I passed up this creek for about eight or ten miles, when I discovered the low gap, went through it, and at noon arrived at the wet prairie, which we had visited the day before. The route was practicable, but would require great labor to remove the timber, and cut out the underbrush.

We halted at the creek and took some refreshment; we then struck for the low gap between the first range of mountains running west, and the base of Mount Hood, and traveled through swamps, small prairies, brush, and heavy timber for about twelve miles, when we found the labor necessary to open a wagon road in this direction, to be greater than we could possibly bestow upon it before the rainy season. We determined to try some other route, retraced our steps six or seven miles, and then bore to the right, around the base of the mountain, when we struck into an old Indian trail. This we followed for seven or eight miles, through the gap I had seen from Mount Hood. It is a rolling bottom of about four or five miles in width, and extending from the base of Mount Hood south for ten or twelve miles. The trail wound around the mountain, but as its course was about that we wished to travel, we followed it until it ran out at the top of the mountain. We then took the ridge west, and traveled until dark; but as the moon shone bright, and the timber was not very thick, we turned an angle down the mountain to the left, to procure water. We traveled about three miles, and struck upon a small running branch; this we followed, until owing to the darkness, we were compelled to encamp, much fatigued, and somewhat disheartened.

October 14. At daylight we were on the way. My moccasins, which the night before had received a pair of soles, in yesterday's tramp had given way, and in traveling after night my feet had been badly snagged, so that I was in poor plight for walking; but as there was no alternative, we started down the mountain, and after traveling a few miles I felt quite well and was able to take the lead. We traveled about three miles, when we struck a large creek which had a very rapid current, over a stony bottom. I had hoped to find a bottom of sufficient {74} width to admit of a wagon road, but after following down this stream six miles, I was satisfied that it would not do to attempt it this season.

The weather, which had been entirely clear for months, had through the night began to cloud up; and in the morning the birds, squirrels, and every thing around, seemed to indicate the approach of a storm. I began for the first time to falter, and was at a stand to know what course to pursue. I had understood that the rainy season commenced in October, and that the streams rose to an alarming height, and I was sensible that if we crossed the branch of the Deshutes, which headed in Mount Hood, and the rainy season set in, we could not get back, and to get forward would be equally impossible; so that in either event starvation would be the result. And as I had been very active in inducing others to embark in the enterprise, my conscience would not allow me to go on and thus endanger so many families. But to go back, and state to them the difficulties to be encountered, and the necessity of taking some other course, seemed to be my duty. I therefore resolved to return, and recommend selecting some suitable place for a permanent camp, build a cabin, put in such effects as we could not pack out, and leave our wagons and effects in the charge of some persons until we could return the next season, unencumbered with our families and cattle, and finish the road;—or otherwise to return to the Dalles with our teams, where we could leave our baggage in charge of the missionaries, and then descend the Columbia. And when my mind was fully made up, we were not long in carrying it into execution.

We accordingly ascended the mountain, as it was better traveling than in the bottom. The distance to the summit was about four miles, and the way was sometimes so steep as to render it necessary to pull up by the bushes. We then traveled east until we reached the eastern point of this mountain, and descended to the bottom, the base of which we had traversed the day before. We then struck for the trail, soon found it, and followed it until it led us to the southern end of the wet prairie. We then struck for the lower gap in the direction of the camp, crossed over and descended the branch to near its mouth, where we found four of our company clearing the road, the remainder having returned to Camp creek for teams. But as we had traveled about fifty miles this day, I was unable to reach the camp.

October 15. This morning we all started for camp, carrying {75} with us our tools and provisions. We reached camp about two P.M. Many of our cattle could not be found, but before night nearly all were brought into camp. The whole matter was then laid before the company, when it was agreed that we should remove over to the bottom, near the small creek, and if the weather was unfavorable, leave our baggage and wagons, and pack out the families as soon as possible. But as some were out of provisions, it was important that a messenger should be sent on ahead for provisions, and horses to assist in packing out. Mr. Buffum, and lady, concluded to pack out what articles they could, and leave a man to take charge of the teams and cattle, until he returned with other horses. He kindly furnished me with one of his horses to ride to the settlement. He also supplied the wife of Mr. Thompson with a horse. Mr. Barlow and Mr. Rector made a proposition to continue working the road until the party could go to and return from the valley; they agreeing to insure the safety of the wagons, if compelled to remain through the winter, by being paid a certain per cent. upon the valuation. This proposition was thought reasonable by some, and it was partially agreed to. And as there were some who had no horses with which to pack out their families, they started on foot for the valley, designing to look out a road as they passed along. Some men in the mean time were to remain with the camp, which as above stated was to be removed to the small branch on Shutes' fork; and those who intended pushing out at once, could follow up it to the Indian trail. This all being agreed upon, arrangements were made accordingly.

October 16. The morning was lowering, with every indication of rain. Messrs. Barlow and Rector started on the trip.[115] All hands were making arrangements for moving the camp. In the mean time Mr. Buffum and his lady, and Mrs. Thompson, were ready to start.[116] I joined them, and we again set out for the settlement. We had traveled about two miles when it commenced raining, and continued raining slightly all day. We encamped on the bottom of Shutes' fork, near the small branch. It rained nearly all night.