“The amount of snow and rainwater was 12·257, which is somewhat over 1 foot.
“All the snow in the Valley was less than 3 feet, while perhaps in the mountains it was more than 10 feet, which gives ample water for irrigation.
“The weather during the year was steady, without extremes.
“Such was Utah in 1860.
“Respectfully, I have the honor to be, etc., W. W. Phelps.”
The climate of the Basin has been compared with that of the Tartar plains of High Asia. Spring opens in the valleys with great suddenness; all is bloom and beauty below, while the snow-line creeps lingeringly up the mountain side, and does not disappear till the middle of June. Thus there are but three months of warmth in the high lands; the low lands have four, beginning with a May-day like that of England. At the equinoxes, both vernal and autumnal, there are rains in the bottoms, which in the upper levels become sleet or snow. Between April and October showers are rare; there are, however, exceptions, heavy downfalls, with thunder, lightning, and hail. “Clouds without water” is a proverbial expression; a dark, heavy pall, which in woodland countries would burst with its weight, here sails over the arid, sun-parched surface, and discharges its watery stores in the kanyons and upon the mountains. During the first few years after the arrival of the Saints there was little rain either in spring or autumn; in 1860 it extended to the middle of June. The change may be attributed to cultivation and plantation; thus also may be explained the North American Indian’s saying that the pale-face brings with him his rain. The same has been observed in Kansas and New Mexico, and is equally remarked by the natives of Cairo, the Aden Coal-hole, and Kurrachee. Seed-time lasts from April to the 10th of June.
The summer is hot, but the lightness and the aridity of the air prevent its being unwholesome. During my visit the thermometer (F.) placed in a room with open windows showed at dawn 63-66°; at noon, 75°; and at sunset, 70°: the greatest midday heat was 105°. The mornings and evenings, cooled by breezes from the mountains, were deliciously soft and pure. The abundant electricity was proved, as in Sindh and Arabia, by frequent devils or dust-pillars, like huge columns of volcanic smoke, that careered over the miraged plains, violently excited where they touched the negative earth, and calm in the positive strata of the upper air, whence their floating particles were precipitated. Dust-storms and thunder-storms are frequent and severe. Clouds often gather upon the peaks, and a heavy black nimbus rises behind the Wasach wall, setting off its brilliant sunlit side, but there is seldom rain. Showers are preceded, as in Eastern Africa, by puffs and gusts of cold air, and are expected in Great Salt Lake City when the clouds come from the west and southwest, opposite and over the “Black Rock;” otherwise they will cling to the hills. Even in the hottest weather, a cold continuous wind, as from the nozzle of a forge-bellows, pours down the deep damp kanyons, where the snow lingers, and travelers, especially at night, prepare to pass across the ravine mouths with blankets and warm clothing. Where the federal troops encamped on the stony bench opposite the Provo Kanyon, it was truly predicted that they would soon be blown out. When summer is protracted, severe droughts are the result. Harvest-time is in the beginning of July.
About early September the heat ends. In 1860, the first snow fell upon the Twin Peaks and their neighborhood on the 12th of September. Rains then usually set in for a fortnight or three weeks, and mild weather often lasts till the end of October. November is partially a fine month; after two or three snowy days, the Indian summer ushers in the most enjoyable weather of the year, which, when short, ends about the middle of November.
Winter has three very severe months, reckoned from December. Icy winds blow hard, and gales are sometimes so high that spray is carried from the Great Salt Lake to the City, a distance of 10-12 miles. In 1854-5 hundreds of cattle perished in the snow. Usually in mid-winter, snow falls every day with a high westerly wind, veering toward the north, and thick with poudré—dry icy spiculæ, hard as gravel. The thermometer is not often below zero in the bottoms; on the 13th of December, 1859, however, the thermometer at daylight, with the barometer at 26·250, showed -22° (F.); 5° or 6° lower than it had ever been before. The snow seldom lies in the valleys deeper than a man’s knee; it is dry, and readily thawed by the sun. A vast quantity is drifted into the kanyons and passes, where the people, as in Styria, often become prisoners at home. These crevasses, hundreds of feet deep, retain their icy stores throughout the year. It is asserted by those who believe in a Pacific Railway upon this line[153] that the Wasach can be traversed at all seasons; at present, however, sledge transit only is practicable, and at times even that is found impossible.
[153] The Pacific Railroad in 1852 was unknown to the political world: in 1856 it began to be necessary, and shortly afterward it appeared in both “platforms,” because without it no one could expect to carry the Mississippian and Pacific States, Texas, for instance, and California. The Diary will show the many difficulties which it must encounter after crossing the South Pass; as the West can afford no assistance, provisions and material must all come from the East—an additional element of expense and delay. The estimate is roughly laid down at $100,000,000: it may safely be doubled. The well-known contractor, Mr. Whitney, offered to build it for a reservation of thirty miles on both sides: the idea was rejected as that of a crazy man. It is promised in ten years, and will probably take thirty. England, then, had better look to her line through Canada and Columbia—it would be worth a hundred East Indian railroads.