Thursday, Jan. 2.—There was a frost this morning. We rose early, and taking eight pounds of flesh, which was all that remained of the elk, proceeded up the south fork of the creek. At the distance of two miles we found a pine-tree, which had been felled by one of our salt-makers, on which we crossed the deepest part of the creek, and waded through the rest. We then went over an open, ridgy prairie, three-quarters of a mile to the sea-beach; after following which for three miles, we came to the mouth of a beautiful river, with a bold, rapid current, eighty-five yards wide, and three feet deep in its shallowest crossings. On its north-east side are the remains of an old village of Clatsops, inhabited by only a single family, who appeared miserably poor and dirty. We gave the man two fish-hooks to ferry the party over the river, which, from the tribe on its banks, we called Clatsop River. The creek which we had passed on a tree approaches this river within about a hundred yards, and, by means of a portage, supplies a communication with the villages near Point Adams.
After going on for two miles, we found the salt-makers encamped near four houses of Clatsops and Killimucks, who, though poor and dirty, seemed kind and well-disposed. We persuaded a young Indian, by the present of a file and a promise of some other articles, to guide us to the spot where the whale lay. He led us for two and a half miles over the round, slippery stones at the foot of a high hill projecting into the sea, and then, suddenly stopping, and uttering the word "peshack," or bad, explained by signs that we could no longer follow the coast, but must cross the mountain. This threatened to be a most laborious undertaking; for the side was nearly perpendicular, and the top lost in clouds. He, however, followed an Indian path, which wound along, and favored the ascent as much as possible; but it was so steep, that, at one place, we were forced to draw ourselves up for about a hundred feet by means of bushes and roots.
CLARKE'S POINT OF VIEW.
At length, after two hours' labor, we reached the top of the mountain, where we looked down with astonishment on the height of ten or twelve hundred feet which we had ascended. We were here met by fourteen Indians loaded with oil and blubber, the spoils of the whale, which they were carrying in very heavy burdens over this rough mountain. On leaving them, we proceeded over a bad road till night, when we encamped on a small run. We were all much fatigued: but the weather was pleasant; and, for the first time since our arrival here, an entire day has passed without rain.
In the morning we set out early, and proceeded to the top of the mountain, the highest point of which is an open spot facing the ocean. It is situated about thirty miles south-east of Cape Disappointment, and projects nearly two and a half miles into the sea. Here one of the most delightful views imaginable presents itself. Immediately in front is the ocean, which breaks with fury on the coast, from the rocks of Cape Disappointment as far as the eye can discern to the north-west, and against the highlands and irregular piles of rock which diversify the shore to the south-east. To this boisterous scene, the Columbia, with its tributary waters, widening into bays as it approaches the ocean, and studded on both sides with the Chinook and Clatsop villages, forms a charming contrast; while immediately beneath our feet are stretched rich prairies, enlivened by three beautiful streams, which conduct the eye to small lakes at the foot of the hills. We stopped to enjoy the romantic view from this place, which we distinguished by the name of Clarke's Point of View, and then followed our guide down the mountain.
The descent was steep and dangerous. In many places, the hillsides, which are formed principally of yellow clay, have been loosened by the late rains, and are slipping into the sea in large masses of fifty and a hundred acres. In other parts, the path crosses the rugged, perpendicular, basaltic rocks which overhang the sea, into which a false step would have precipitated us.
The mountains are covered with a very thick growth of timber, chiefly pine and fir; some trees of which, perfectly sound and solid, rise to the height of two hundred and ten feet, and are from eight to twelve in diameter. Intermixed is the white cedar, or arbor-vitæ, and some trees of black alder, two or three feet thick, and sixty or seventy in height. At length we reached the sea-level, and continued for two miles along the sand-beach, and soon after reached the place where the waves had thrown the whale on shore. The animal had been placed between two villages of Killimucks; and such had been their industry, that there now remained nothing but the skeleton, which we found to be a hundred and five feet in length. Capt. Clarke named the place Ecola, or Whale Creek.
The natives were busied in boiling the blubber in a large square trough of wood by means of heated stones, preserving the oil thus extracted in bladders and the entrails of the whale. The refuse pieces of the blubber, which still contained a portion of oil, were hung up in large flitches, and, when wanted for use, were warmed on a wooden spit before the fire, and eaten, either alone, or with roots of the rush and shanatac. The Indians, though they had great quantities, parted with it very reluctantly, at such high prices, that our whole stock of merchandise was exhausted in the purchase of about three hundred pounds of blubber and a few gallons of oil.
Next morning was fine, the wind from the north-east; and, having divided our stock of the blubber, we began at sunrise to retrace our steps in order to reach our encampment, which we called Fort Clatsop, thirty-five miles distant, with as little delay as possible. We met several parties of Indians on their way to trade for blubber and oil with the Killimucks: we also overtook a party returning from the village, and could not but regard with astonishment the heavy loads which the women carry over these fatiguing and dangerous paths. As one of the women was descending a steep part of the mountain, her load slipped from her back; and she stood holding it by a strap with one hand, and with the other supporting herself by a bush. Capt. Clarke, being near her, undertook to replace the load, and found it almost as much as he could lift, and above one hundred pounds in weight. Loaded as they were, they kept pace with us till we reached the salt-makers' camp, where we passed the night, while they continued their route.