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HISTORY
El
Dorado County, California.
CHAPTER
XIII.
EARLY
CONDITION--INHABITANTS--EXPLORATIONS
IN THIS REGION. (Continued.)
John C.
Fremont's Report to the Chief of Topographical Engineers, Extract from Jan
28, 1844, to March 6, 1844-- Fremont entering Lake Valley -- Difficult
Traveling -- His Peaceable Encounters with the Indians -- Abandoning the
Howitzer -- One Indian Guide -- Fremont Encouraging his men by describing
the wonders of the Sacramento Valley -- Breaking Road through the Snow --
On the Upper Truckee River -- Appearance of the Central Ridge of the
Sierra Nevada -- Cold Increasing -- Experience with the Second Indian
Guide -- Making Sleighs and Snow Shoes -- On the Summit -- Hard Struggle
to bring the animals over the Snow -- Delicacies of the Table -- The Rock
Forming the Summit -- Camping on the Head Waters of the American River --
Comparison of the Pass with the South Pass of the Rocky Mountains, in
Regard to High, Latitude and Longitude -- Early Rising Repaid with a
Beautiful Sight of Sunrise -- Scenery of the Mountains Amidst and After a
Storm -- Second Unintended Bath in the Cold Stream -- Structure of the
Central part of the Sierra and of the Summit -- Fremont's Favorite Horse
giving out on top of Pilot Hill -- An Indian Mistakes the party for some
of his Fellows -- High Qualities of the Country for
Pasture -- The Lower
Foothills appear like Parks in Old-settled Countries -- An Indian Village
-- Arrival and Reception at Sutter's Fort -- History of the
Donner Party..
John C. Fremont, then Brevet Captain of Topographical
Engineers, on his return from his first exploring expedition to Oregon,
passed south on the east side of the Sierra Nevada, crossing it under all
kinds of hardships and suffering from privation, from the Carson river to
the American river, in the month of February, 1844. His experiences are
laid down in his report to the Chief of Engineers. Out of this we shall
quote such of those passages as are of interest in regard to the character
of the mountains, the nature of the inhabitants and their limited
knowledge of the regions they were living in ; their principal interest,
however, consisting in the fact that this passage took place in El Dorado
county : On the evening of January 28, 1844, the party of twenty-five men
passed the mountain range dividing the Carson river from the basin of Lake
Tahoe, and from here we may follow the verbal quotation of the report :
"Jan. 28. -- To-day we went through the pass with
all the camp, and, after a hard day's journey of twelve miles, encamped on
a high point where the snow had been blown off, and the exposed grass
afforded a scanty pasture for the animals. Snow and broken country
together made our traveling difficult ; we were often compelled to make
large circuits, and ascend the highest and most exposed ridges, in order
to avoid snow, which in other places was banked up to a great depth.
During the day a few Indians were seen circling around
us on snow shoes, and skimming along like birds ; but we could not bring
them within speaking distance. They seem to have no idea of the power of
firearms, and think themselves perfectly safe beyond arm's length.
To-night we did not succeed in getting the howitzer into
camp. This was the most laborious day we had yet passed through, the steep
ascent and deep snow exhausting both men and animals. Our single
chronometer had stopped during the day, and its error in time occasioned
the loss of an eclipse of a satellite this evening. It had not preserved
the rate with which we started from the Dalles, and this will account for
the absence of longitudes long this interval of our journey.
The Last observation was taken on the 27th of January,
with 38o 18' 01" for the latitude, and the elevation above
the sea, 6,310 feet. January 29. -- From this height we could see at a
considerable distance below, yellow spots in the valley, which indicated
that there was not much snow. One of these places we expected to reach
that night. We followed a trail down a hollow where the Indians had
descended, the snow being so deep that we never came near the ground ; but
this only made our descent so much easier, and, when we reached a little
affluent to the river at the bottom, we suddenly found ourselves in the
presence of eight or ten Indians. Our friendly demeanor reconciled them,
and when we got near enough they immediately stretched out to us handfuls
of pine nuts, which seemed an exercise of hospitality. The principal
stream still running through an unpracticable canyon, we ascended a very
steep hill, which proved afterwards the last and fatal obstacle to our
little howitzer, which was finally abandoned at this place. We passed
through a small meadow a few miles below, crossing the river, whose depth,
swift current, and rocks, made it difficult to ford ; and after a few more
miles of very difficult travel emerged into a large prairie bottom, at the
farther end of which we encamped, in a position rendered strong by rocks
and trees. The lower parts of these mountains were covered with the
nut-pine. Several Indians appeared on the hillside, reconnoitering the
camp, and were induced to come in. Others came in during the afternoon,
and in the evening we held a council. We explained to the Indians that we
were endeavoring to find a passage across the mountains into the country
of the whites, whom we were going to see ; and told them that we wished
them to bring us a guide, to whom we would give presents of scarlet cloth
and other articles, which were shown to them. They looked at the reward we
offered, and conferred with each other, but pointed to the snow in the
mountains, and drew their hands across their necks and raised them above
their heads, to show the depth ; and signified that it was impossible for
us to get through. They made signs that we must go to the southward, over
a pass through a lower range, which they pointed out. There, they said, at
the end of one day's travel, we would find people who lived near a pass in
the great mountain, and to that point they engaged to furnish a guide.
They appeared to have a confused idea of whites who lived on the other
side of the mountains, and once they told us, about two years ago, a party
of twelve men like ourselves had ascended their river and crossed to the
other waters. They pointed out to us where they had crossed ; but then,
they said, it was summer time, while now it would be impossible. I believe
this was a party led by Mr. Chiles, one of the only two men whom I know to
have passed through the California mountains from the interior of the
basin, Walker being the other, and both were engaged upward of twenty
days, in the summer time, in getting over. Chiles' destination was the bay
of San Francisco, to which he descended by the Stanislaus river. Both were
western men, animated with the spirit of exploratory enterprise which
characterizes that people.
The Indians brought in during the evening an abundant
supply of pine-nuts, for which we traded with them. When roasted, their
pleasant flavor made them an agreeable addition to our now scanty store of
provisions, which were reduced to a very low ebb. Our principal stock was
in peas, which contained scarcely any nutriment. We had still a little
flour left, some coffee, and a quantity of sugar, which I reserved as a
defense against starvation. The Indians informed us that a certain season
they have fish in their waters which we supposed to be salmon-trout ; for
the remainder of the year they live on pine-nuts, which form their great
winter subsistence, a portion being always at hand, shut up in the natural
storehouse of the cones. They were presented to us as a whole people,
living upon this simple vegetable.
The other division of the party did not come in that
night, but encamped in the upper meadow and arrived next morning. They had
not succeeded in getting the howitzer beyond the place mentioned, and
there it had been left in obedience to my orders. It was of the kind
invented by the French for the mountain part of their war in Algiers. We
left it to the great sorrow of the whole party, who were grieved to part
with a companion which had made the whole distance from St. Louis, and
commanded respect for us on some critical occasions, and which might be
needed for the same purpose again.
January 30th -- Our guide, who was a young man, joined
us this morning, and leaving our encampment late in the day, we descended
the river which immediately opened out into a broad valley, furnishing
good traveling ground. In a short distance we passed the village, a
collection of straw huts ; and a few miles below the guide pointed out the
place where the whites had camped before entering the mountains. With our
late start we made but ten miles, and encamped on the low river bottom,
where there was no snow but a great deal of ice, and we cut piles of long
grass to lay under our blankets, and fires were made of the large dry
willows, groves of which wooded the stream. The river here took a
northeasterly direction, and through a spur from the mountains, on the
left, was a gap where we were to pass the next day.
January 31-- We took our way over a gently rising
ground, the dividing ridge being tolerably low, and traveling easily along
with a broad train, in twelve or fourteen miles reached the upper part of
the pass, when it began to snow thickly, with very cold weather. The
Indians had only the usual scanty covering, and appeared to suffer greatly
from cold. All left us except our guide. Half hidden by the storm, the
mountains looked dreary ; and as night began to approach the guide began
to show great reluctance to go forward. I placed him between two rifles,
for the way began to be difficult. Traveling a little farther we struck a
ravine which the Indian said would conduct us to the river ; and as the
poor fellow suffered greatly, shivering in the snow which fell upon his
naked skin, I would not detain him any longer, and he ran off to the
mountain. He had kept the blue and scarlet cloth I had given him tightly
rolled up, preferring rather to endure the cold than to get them wet.
About dark we had the satisfaction of reaching the foot of a stream
timbered with large trees, among which we found a sheltered camp with an
abundance of such grass as the season afforded for the animals. We saw
before us in descending from the pass, a great, continuous range, along
which stretched the valley of the river, the lower parts steep and dark
with pines, while above it was hidden with clouds of snow. This we
instantly felt satisfied was the great central ridge of the Sierra Nevada,
the great California mountain, which only now intervened between us and
the waters of the by. We had made a forced march of twenty-six miles, and
three mules had given out on the road; we have now sixty-seven animals in
the band.
We gathered together a few of the most intelligent of
the Indians--that had come into camp nearly naked--and held this evening
an interesting council. I explained to them my intentions. I told them
that we had come from a very far country, having been traveling now nearly
a year, and that we were desirous simply to go across the mountain into
the country of the other whites. There were two who appeared particularly
intelligent--one, somewhat old man. He told me that before the snows fell,
it was six sleeps to the place where the whites lived, but that now it was
impossible to cross the mountains on account of the deep snow ; and
showing us, as the others had done, that it was over our heads, he urged
us strongly to follow the course of the river, which, he said, would
conduct us to a lake in which there were many large fish. There, he said,
were many people, there was no snow on the ground, and we might remain
there until spring. From their description, we judged that we had encamped
on the upper waters of the Salmon-Trout river (Upper Truckee.) I told him
that the men and horses were strong; that we would break a road
through the snow, and spreading before him our bales of scarlet cloth and
trinkets, showed him what we would give for a guide. It was necessary to
obtain on, if possible, for I had determined here to attempt the passage
of the mountains. Pulling a branch of grass from the ground, after a short
discussion among themselves, the old man made us comprehend that if we
could break through the snow, at the end of three days we would come down
upon grass, which he showed us would be about six inches high, and where
the ground was entirely free. So far, he said, he had been hunting for
elk, but beyond that (and he closed his eyes) he had seen nothing ; but
there was one among them who had been to the whites, and going out of the
lodge, he returned with a young man of very intelligent appearance. Here,
he said, is a young man who has seen the whites with his own eyes ; and he
swore first by the sky, and then by the ground, that what he said was
true. With a large present of goods, we prevailed upon this young man to
be our guide, and he acquired among us the name of Melo-- a word
signifying friend, which they used very frequently. We gave him skins to
make a new pair of moccasins, he being nearly barefooted, and to enable
him to perform his undertaking with us. The Indians remained in the camp
during the night, and we kept the guide and two others to sleep in the
lodge with us--Carson laying across the door, and having made them
comprehend the use of our fire-arms.
February 1. -- The snow, which had intermitted in the
evening, commenced falling again in the course of the night, and it snowed
steadily all day. In the morning I acquainted the men with my decision,
and explained to them that necessity required me to make a great effort to
clear the mountains. I reminded them of the beautiful valley of the
Sacramento river, with which they were familiar from the description of
Carson (Kit Carson), who had been there some fifteen years ago, and who in
our late privations had delighted us in speaking of its rich pastures and
abounding game. I assured them that from the heights of the mountain
before us, we should doubtless see the valley of the Sacramento, and with
one effort place ourselves again in the midst of plenty. Our guide was not
neglected, extremity of suffering might make him desert, we therefore did
the best we could for him. Leggings, moccasins, some articles of clothing
and a large green blankets, in addition to the blue and scarlet cloth,
were lavished upon him, and to his great and evident contentment. He
arrayed himself in all his colors, and clad in green, blue and scarlet, he
made a gay looking Indian ; and with his various presents, was probably
richer and better clothed than any of his tribe had ever been before.
The river was forty to seventy feet wide, and entirely
frozen over. It was wooded with large cottonwood, willow and grain de
boeuf. By observation, the latitude of the encampment was 39o
37' 18".
February 2. -- It had ceased snowing, and this morning
the lower air was clear and frosty ; and six or seven thousand feet above,
the peaks of the Sierra now and then appeared among the rolling clouds,
which were rapidly dispersing before the sun. Crossing the river on the
ice, and leaving it immediately, we commenced the ascent of the mountain
along the valley of a tributary stream. The people were unusually silent,
for every man knew that our enterprise was hazardous, and the issue
doubtful.
The snow deepened rapidly, and it soon became necessary
to break a road. For this service a party of ten was formed mounted on the
strongest horses, each man in succession opening the road on foot, or on
horseback, until himself and his horse became fatigued, when he stepped
aside and the remaining number passing ahead, he took his station in the
rear. Leaving this stream, and pursuing very direct course, we
passed over an intervening ridge to the river we had left. On the way we
passed two low huts entirely covered with snow, which might very easily
have escaped observation. A family was living in each. We found two
similar huts on the creek were we next arrived ; and, traveling a little
higher up, encamped on its banks in about four feet depth of snow. Carson
found near an open hill-side, were the wind and sun had melted the snow,
leaving exposed sufficient bunch-grass for the animals to-night.
The nut-pines were now giving way to heavy timber, and
there were some immense pines on the bottom, around the roots of which the
sun had melted away the snow--here we made our camp and built huge
fires. To-day we had traveled 16 miles, and our elevation above the
sea was 6,760 feet.
February 3.--Turning our faces directly towards the main
chain, we ascended an open hollow along a small tributary to the river,
which, according to the Indians, issues from a mountain to the south. The
snow was so deep in the hollow that we were obliged to travel along the
steep hill-sides, and over spurs where the wind and sun had in places
lessened the snow, and where the grass, which appeared to be in good
quality along the sides of the mountains, was exposed. We opened our road
in the same way as yesterday, but made only seven miles, and encamped by
some springs at the foot of a high and steep hill, by which the hollow
ascended to another basin in the mountain. The litte* stream below was
entirely buried in snow. The springs were shaded by the boughs of a lofty
cedar, which here made its first appearance; the usual height was from 120
to 10 feet, and one that was measured near by was six feet in diameter.
There being no grass exposed here, the horses were sent back to that we
had seen a few miles below. During the day several Indians joined on on
snow-shoes. These were made of a circular hoop, about a foot in diameter,
the interior space being filled with an open network of bark.
February 4. -- I went ahead early with two or three men,
each with a led horse to break the road. We were obliged to abandon the
hollow entirely, and work along the mountain-side, which was very steep
and the snow covered with an icy crust. We cut footing as we
advanced, and trampled a road through for the animals ; but occasionally
plunged outside the trail, and slid long the field to the bottom, a
hundred yards below. Late in the day we reached another bench in the
hollow, where, in summer, the stream passed over a small precipice. Here
was a short distance of dividing ground between the two ridges, and beyond
an open basin, some tem miles across, whose bottom presented a field of
snow. At the further or western side rose the middle crest of the
mountain, a dark-looking ridge of volcanic rock.
The summit line presented a range of naked peaks,
apparently destitute of snow and vegetation ; but the face of the whole
country was covered with timber of extraordinary size. Toward a pass which
the guide indicated here, we attempted in the afternoon to force a road ;
but after a laborious plunging through two or three hundred yards our best
horses gave out, entirely refusing to make any further effort, and, for
the time, we were brought to a stand. The camp had been occupied all day
in endeavoring to ascend the hill, but only the best horses had succeeded
; the animals generally not having strength enough to bring themselves up
without the packs ; and all the line of road between this and the springs
was strewed with camp-stores and equipage, and horses floundering in the
snow. To-night we had no shelter, but we made a large fire around the
trunk of one of the huge pines and covering the snow with small bought, on
which to spread our blankets, soon made ourselves comfortable. The night
was very bright and clear, though the thermometer was only 10o.
A strong wind which sprung up at sundown made it intensely cold, and this
was one of the bitterest nights during the journey.
Two Indians joined our party here, and one of them, an
old man, immediately began to harangue us, saying that ourselves and
animals would perish in the snow ; and that if we would go back, he would
show us another and better way across the mountains. He spoke in a very
loud voice, and there was a singular repetition of phrases and arrangement
of words, which rendered his speech striking and not unmusical.
We had now begun to understand some words, and with the
aid of signs, easily comprehended the old man's simple idea: "Rock
upon rock--rock upon rock; snow upon snow," said he ; "even if
you get over the snow, you will not be able to get down from the
mountains." He made us the sign of precipices, and showed us how the
feet of the horses would slip, and throw them off from the narrow trails
that led along their sides. Our Chinook, who comprehended even more
readily than ourselves, and believed our situation hopeless, covered his
head with his blanket and began to week and lament. " I wanted to see
the whites, and I don't care to die among them, but here" -- and he
looked around in the cold night and gloomy forest, and, drawing his
blankets over his head, began again to lament.
February 5. -- The night had been too cold to sleep, and
we were up very early. Or guide was standing by the fire with all his
finery on, and seeing him shiver in the cold, I threw on his shoulders one
of my blankets. We missed him a few minutes afterwards, and never saw him
again ; he had deserted us. His bad faith and treachery were in perfect
keeping with the estimate of Indian character, which a long intercourse
with this people had gradually forced upon my mind. While a portion of the
camp were occupied in bringing up the baggage to this point, the remainder
were busied in making sledges and snow-shoes. I had determined to explore
the mountain ahead, and the sledges were to be uses for transporting the
baggage.
The mountains here consisted wholly of a white micaceous
granite. The day was perfectly clear, warm and pleasant, while the sun was
in the sky. By observation our latitude was 38o, 42' 26" ; and
elevation by the boiling point, 7,400 feet.
February 6.--Accompanied by Mr. Fitzpatrick, I set out
to-day with a reconnoitering party on snow-shoes. We marched all in single
file, trampling the snow as heavily as we could. Crossing the open basin,
in a march of about tem miles we reached the top of one of the peaks, to
the left of the pass indicated by out guide. Far below us, dimmed by the
distance, was a large snowless valley, bounded on the western side at the
distance of about a hundred miles, a low range of mountains, which Carson
recognized with delight as the mountains bordering the coast.
"There," said he, "is the little mountain, (Mt. Diablo,) it
is fifteen years since I saw it ; but I am just as sure as if I had seen
it yesterday." Between us and this low coast range, then, there was
the valley of the Sacramento ; and no one who had not accompanied us
through the incidents of our life for the last few months, could realize
the delight with which at last we looked down upon it. At the distance of apparently
30 miles beyond us were distinguished spots of prairie, and a
dark line, which could be traced with the glass, was imagined to be the
course of the river ; but we were evidently at a great height above the
valley, and between us and the plains extended miles of snowy fields of
broken ridges and pine-covered mountains. After a march of 20 miles we
straggled into the camp, one after another, at nightfall ; the greater
number excessively fatigued, only two of the parting having ever traveled
on snow-shoes. All our energies were now directed to getting our animals
across the snow ; and it was supposed that after all the baggage had been
drawn with the sleighs over the trail we had made, it would be
sufficiently hard to bear our animals. At several places between this
point and the ridge we had discovered some grassy spots, where the wind
and the sun had dispersed the snow from the sides of the hills, and these
were to form resting places to support the animals for a night in their
passage across. With one party drawing the sleighs loaded with
baggage, I advanced to-day about four miles along the trail, and encamped
at the first grassy spot, where we expected to bring our horses; Mr.
Fitzpatrick, with another party, remained behind, to form an intermediate
station between us and the animals.
February 8.--The night has been extremely cold, but
perfectly still and beautifully clear. Before the sun appeared, the
thermometer was 3o below zero ; 1o higher when his
rays struck the lofty peaks, and 0o when they reached our camp.
Scenery and weather combined must render these mountains beautiful in
summer ; the purity and deep blue color of the sky are singularly
beautiful. The day was sunny and bright, and even warm in the noon-hours ;
and if we could be free from the many anxieties that oppressed us, even
now we could be delighted here ; but our provisions are getting fearfully
scant. Sleighs arrived with baggage about 10 o'clock, and leaving a
portion of it here we continued on for a mile and half, and encamped
at the foot of a long hill on the side of the open bottom. Elevation of
the camp, by the boiling point, is 7,920 feet.
February 9.-- During the night the weather changed, the
wind rising to a gale, and commencing to snow before daylight ; before
morning the trail was covered. We remained quiet in camp all day, in the
course of which the weather improved. Four sleighs arrived towards
evening, with the bedding of the men. We suffer much from the want of
salt, and all the men are becoming weak from insufficient food.
February 10.--Continuing on with three sleighs, carrying
a portion of the baggage, we had the satisfaction to encamp within two and
a half miles of the head of the hollow, and at the foot of the last
mountain range. Here two large trees had been set on fire, and in the
holes, where the snow had melted away, we found a comfortable camp. The
wind kept the air filled with snow during the day, the sky was very dark
in the southwest, though elsewhere very clear. The forest here has a noble
appearance, and tall cedar is abundant, its greatest height being 130
feet, and circumference 20 feet, three or four feet above the ground ; and
here I see for the first time the white pine, of which there are some
magnificent trees. Hemlock spruce is among the timber, occasionally as
large as eight feet in diameter, four feet above the ground ; but in
ascending it tapers rapidly to less than one foot at the height of eight
feet. I have not seen any higher than 130 feet, and the slight upper part
is frequently broken off by the wind. The white spruce is frequent, and
the red pine, which constitutes the beautiful forests along the banks of
the Sierra Nevada to the northward, is here the principal tree, not
attaining a greater height than 140 feet, though with sometimes a diameter
of 10 feet. Most of these trees appear to differ slightly from those of
the same kind on the other side of the continent. We are now 1,000 feet
above the level of the South Pass in the Rocky Mountains ; and still we
are not done ascending. The top of a flat ridge near us was bare of snow,
and very well sprinkled with bunch-grass, sufficient to pasture the
animals for two or three days ; and this was to be their main point of
support. This ridge is composed of a compact trap, or basalt of columnar
structure ; over the surface are scattered large boulders of porous trap.
The hills are in many places entirely covered with small fragments of
volcanic rock. Putting on our snow-shoes, we spent the afternoon in
exploring a road ahead. The glare of the snow, combined with great
fatigue, had rendered many of the people nearly blind ; but we were
fortunate in having some black silk handkerchiefs, which worn as veils,
very much relieved the eye.
February 11.--High wind continued, and our trail this
morning was nearly invisible--here and there indicated by a little ridge
of snow. Our situation became tiresome and dreary, requiring a strong
exercise of patience and resolution. In the evening I received a message
from Mr. Fitzpatrick, acquainting me with the utter failure of his attempt
to get our mules and horses over the snow,--the half-hidden trail had
proved entirely too slight to support them, and they had broken through,
and were plunging about or lying half buried in snow. I wrote him to send
the animals immediately back to their old pastures ; and after having made
mauls and shovels, turn in all the strength of his party to open and beat
a road through the snow, strengthening it with boughs and branches of the
pines.
February 12.--We made mauls and worked hard at our end
of the road all day. The wind was high, but the sun bright and the snow
thawing. We worked down the face of the hill to meet the people at the
other end. Towards sundown it began to grow cold and we shouldered our
mauls and trudged back to camp.
February 13.--We continued to labor on the road, and in
the course of the day had the satisfaction to see the people working down
the face of the opposite hill, about three miles distant. During the
morning we had the pleasure of a visit from Mr. Fitzpatrick, with the
information that all was going on well. A party of Indians had passed on
snow shoes, who said they were going to the western side of the mountains
after fish. This was an indication that the salmon were coming up the
streams ; and we could hardly restrain or impatience as we thought of them
and worked with increased vigor. The meat train did not arrive this
evening, and I gave Godey leave to kill our little dog (Tlamath), which he
prepared in Indian fashion--scorching off the hair and washing the skin
with soap and snow, then cutting it into pieces, which were laid on the
snow. Shortly afterward the sleigh arrived with a supply of horse meat,
and we had to-night an extraordinary dinner--pea-soup, mule and dog.
February 14.--The dividing ridge of the Sierra is in
sight from this encampment. Accompanied by Mr. Preuss, I ascended to-day
the highest peak to the right, from which we had a beautiful view of a
mountain lake at our feet about fifteen miles in length, and so entirely
surrounded by mountains that we could not discover an outlet. We had taken
with us a glass, and though we enjoyed an extended view, the valley was
hidden in a mist, as when we had seen it before. Snow could be
distinguished on the higher parts of the coast mountains. Eastward, as far
as the eye could extend, it ranged over a terrible mass of broken snowy
mountains, fading off blue in the distance. The rock composing the summit
consists of a very coarse, dark, volcanic conglomerate ; the lower parts
appeared to be of slaty structure. The highest trees were a few scattering
of cedars and aspens. From the immediate foot of the peak we were two
hours reaching the summit, and one hour and a quarter in descending. The
day had been very bright, still and clear, and Spring seems to be
advancing rapidly. While the sun is in the sky the snow melts rapidly, and
gushing springs cover the face of the mountain in all the exposed places ;
but their surface freezes instantly with the disappearance of the sun. I
obtained to-night some observations, and the result from these, and others
made during our stay fives, for the latitude, 38o 41' 57"
; longitude, 120o 25' 57" ; and rate of the chronometer,
25, 82".
February 16.--We had succeeded in getting our animals
safely to the first grassy hill, and this morning I started with Jacob on
a reconnoitering expedition beyond the mountain. We traveled along the
crests of narrow ridges, extending down from the fountain in the direction
of the valley, from which the snow was fast melting away. On the open
spots was tolerably good grass, and I judged we should succeed in getting
the camp down by the way of these. Towards sundown we discovered some icy
spots in a deep hollow, and descending the mountain we encamped on the
headwater of a little creek, where, at last, the water found its way to
the Pacific. The night was clear and very long. We heard the cries
of some wild animals which had been attracted by our fire, and a flock of
geese passed over us during the night. Even these strange sounds had
something pleasant to our senses in this region of silence and desolation.
The creek acquired a regular breadth of about twenty feet, and we soon
began to hear the rushing of the water below the icy surface, over which
we traveled to avoid the snow. A few miles below we broke through, where
the water was several feet deep, and halted to make a fire and dry our
clothes. We continued a few miles further, walking being very laborious
without snow-shoes. I was now perfectly satisfied that we had struck the
stream on which Mr. Sutter lived, and, turning about, made a hard push and
reached the camp at dark. Here we had the pleasure of finding all the
remaining animals, 57 in number, safely arrived at the grassy hill near
the camp ; and here also we were agreeably surprised with the sight of an
abundance of salt.
On February 19th the people were occupied in making a
road and bringing up the baggage, and on the afternoon of the next
day,
February 20th, we encamped, with the animals and
all the materiel of the camp, on the summit of the pass in the dividing
ridge, 1,000 miles by our traveled road from the Dalles on the Columbia.
The people, who had not yet been to this point, climbed the neighboring
peak to enjoy a look at the valley. The temperature of boiling water gave
for the elevation of the camp 9,338 feet above the sea. This was 2,000
feet higher than the South Pass in the Rocky Mountains, and several peaks
in view rose several thousand feet still higher. Thus, the pass in the
Sierra Nevada, which so well deserves its name of Snowy Mountains, is
eleven degrees west and about four degrees south of the South Pass.
February 21.--We now considered ourselves victorious
over the mountain ; having only the descent before us and the valley under
our eyes, we felt strong hope that we should force our way down. But this
was a case in which the descent was not facile. Still deep fields
of snow lay between them, and there was a large intervening space of rough
looking mountains, through which we had yet to wind our way. Carson roused
me this morning with an early fire, and we were all up long before day, in
order to pass the snow fields before the sun should render the crust soft.
We enjoyed this morning a scene a sunrise, which even here was unusually
glorious and beautiful. Passing along a ridge which commanded the lake on
our right, of which we began to discover an outlet through a chasm on the
west, we passed over alternating open ground and hard-crusted snow-fields
which supported the animals, and encamped on the ridge, after a journey of
six miles. The grass was better than we had yet seen, and we were encamped
in a clump of trees twenty or thirty feet high, resembling white pine.
With the exception of these small clumps the ridges were bare ; and where
the snow found the support of the trees the wind had blown it up into
banks ten or fifteen feet high. It required much care to hunt out a
practicable way, as the most open places frequently led to impassable
banks. The day had been one of April--gusty, with a few occasional flakes
of snow, which in the afternoon enveloped the upper mountain in clouds. We
watched them anxiously, as now we dreaded a snowstorm. Shortly afterwards
we heard the roll of thunder, and looking towards the valley found it
enveloped in a thunder-storm. For us, as connected with the idea of
Summer, it had a singular charm, and we watched its progress with excited
feelings until nearly sunset, when the sky cleared off brightly, and we
saw a shining line of water directing its course towards another, a
broader and larger sheet. On the southern shore of what appeared to be the
bay could be traced the gleaming line where entered another large stream.1
We had the satisfaction to know that at least
there were people below. Fires were lit up in the valley just at night,
appearing to be in answer to ours ; and these signs of life renewed, in
some measure, the gayety of the camp.
February 22.--Our breakfast was over long before day. We
took advantage of the coolness of the early morning to get over the snow,
which to-day occurred in very deep banks among the timber ; but we
searched for the coldest places, and the animals passed successfully with
their loads over the hard crust. In the after part of the day we saw
before us a handsome grassy ridge point, and making a desperate push over
a snowfield ten to fifteen feet deep, we happily succeeded in getting the
camp across, and encamped on the ridge after a march of three miles. We
had again the prospect of a thunder-storm below, and to-night we killed
another mule--now our only resource from starvation. We continued to enjoy
the same delightful weather ; the sky of the same beautiful blue, and such
a sunset and sunrise as on our Atlantic coast we could scarcely imagine.
And here among the mountains, 9,000 feet above the level of the sea, we
have the deep blue sky and sunny climate of Smyrna and Palermo, which a
little map before me shows are in the same latitude.
February 23.--This was our most difficult day. We were
enforced off the ridges by the quantity of snow among the timber, and
obliged to take to the mountain sides, where, occasionally, rocks and a
southern exposure afforded us a chance to scramble along ; but these were
steep and slippery with snow and ice, and the tough evergreens of the
mountain impeded our way, tore our skin, and exhausted our patience. Going
ahead with Carson to reconnoitre the road, we reached, in the afternoon,
the river which made an outlet of the lake. Carson sprang
over, clear
across a place where the stream was compressed among rocks but the parfleche
sole of my moccasin glanced from the icy rock and precipitated me into the
river. It was some few seconds before I could recover myself in the
current, and Carson, thinking me hurt, jumped in after me, and we both had
an icy bath. We tried to search awhile for my gun, which had been lost in
the fall, but the cold drove us out. We afterwards found that the gun had
been slung under the ice which lined the banks of the creek.
February 24.--We rose at three in the morning for an
astronomical observation, and obtained for the place a latitude of 38o 46'
58" ; longitude, 120o 34 20". The sky was clear and pure,
with a sharp wind from the northeast, and the thermometer 2o below the
freezing point. In the course of the morning we struck a footpath, which
we were generally able to keep, and the ground was soft to our animal's
feet, being sandy, or covered with mould. Green grass began to make its
appearance, and occasionally we passed a hill scatteringly covered with
it. The character of the forest continued the same, and among the trees
the pine, with sharp leaves and very large cones, was abundant, some of
them being noble trees. We measured on that was 10 feet in diameter,
though it's height was not more than 130 feet. All along the river was a
roaring torrent, its fall very great, and descending with a rapidity to
which we had long been strangers. To our great pleasure oak trees appeared
on the ridge, and soon became very frequent ; on these I remarked great
quantities of mistletoe. Rushes began to make their appearance, and at a
small creek, where they were abundant, one of the messes was left with the
weakest horses, while we continued on. When we had traveled about 10
miles, the valley opened a little to an oak and pine bottom, through which
ran rivulets closely bordered with rushes, on which our half-starved
horses fell with avidity ; and here we made our encampment. Here the
roaring torrent has already become a river, and we had descended to an
elevation of 3,864 feet. Along our road to-day the rock was a white
granite, which appears to constitute the upper part of the mountains on
both eastern and western slopes, while between, the central, is volcanic
rock.
February 25 --Believing that the difficulties of the
road were passed, and leaving Mr. Fitzpatrick to follow slowly, as the
condition of the animals required, I started ahead this morning with a
party of eight. We took with us some of the best animals, and my intention
was to proceed, as rapidly as possible, to the house of Mr. Sutter, and
return to meet the party with a supply of provisions and fresh animals.
The forest was imposing to-day in the magnificence of its trees ; some of
the pines, bearing large cones, were 10 feet in diameter. Cedars also
abounded, and we measured one 28 1/2 feet
in circumference four feet from the ground. Here this noble tree seemed to
be in its proper soil and climate. We found it on both sides of the
sierra, but most abundant on the west.
February 27.--We succeeded in fording the stream, and
made a trail by which we crossed the point of the opposite hill, which, on
the southern exposure, was prettily covered with green grass, and we
halted a mile from our last encampment. The river was only about 60 feet
wide, but rapid, and occasionally deep, foaming among boulders, and the
water beautifully clear. We encamped on the hill-slope, as there was no
bottom level, and the opposite ridge is continuous, affording no streams.
Below, the precipices on the river forced us to the heights, which we
ascended by a steep spur 2,000 feet high--(Pilot Hill).
My favorite horse, Proveau, had become very weak, and was scarcely able to
bring himself to the top. Traveling here was good except in crossing the
ravines, which were narrow, steep and frequent. We caught a glimpse of a
deer, the first animal we had seen, but did not succeed in approaching
him. Every hour we had seen expecting to see open out before us the
valley, which from the mountain above, seemed almost at our feet. A new
and singular shrub, which had made its appearance since crossing the
mountain, was very frequent to-day. (Fremont here gives a minute
description of the manzanita or red bark). Near nightfall we descended
into the steep ravine of a handsome creek 30 feet wide, and I was engaged
in getting the horses up the opposite hill when I heard a shout from
Carson, who had gone ahead a few hundred yards. " Life
yet," said he, " life yet ; I have found a hill-side sprinkled
with grass enough for the night!" We drove along our horses and
encamped at the place about dark, and there was just room enough to make a
place for shelter on the edge of the stream.
March 3.--At every step the country improved in beauty.
The pines were rapidly disappearing the the oaks became the principal
trees of the forest. Among these the prevailing tree was the evergreen
oak, (which by way of distinction we called the live-oak), and with these
occurred frequently a new species of oak bearing a long slender acorn,
from an inch to an inch and a half in length, which we now began to see
formed the principal vegetable food of the inhabitants of this region. We
had called up some straggling Indians, the first we had met, although for
two days back we had seen tracks, who, mistaking us for his fellows,
had been only undecieved on getting close up. It would have been pleasant
to witness his astonishment. He would not have been more frightened had
some of the old mountain spirits, they are so much afraid of, suddenly
appeared in his path.
March 6.--We continued on our road through the same
surpassingly beautiful country, entirely unequalled for the pasturage of
stock by anything we had ever seen. Our horses had now become so strong
that they we able to carry us, and we traveled rapidly--over four miles an
hour, four of us riding every alternate hour. Every few hundred yards we
came upon a little band of deer, but we were too eager to reach the
settlement, which we momentarily expected to discover, to halt for any
other than a passing shot. In a few hours we reached a large
fork, the
northern branch of the river, and equal in size to that which we had
descended. Together they formed a beautiful stream, 60 to 100 yards wide ;
which at first, ignorant of the country through which that river ran, we
took to be the Sacramento. We continued down the right bank of the river
traveling for a while through a wooded upland, where we had the delight to
discover tracks of cattle. To the southwest was visible a black column of
smoke, which we had frequently noticed in descending, arising fro the
fires we had seen from the top of the Sierra. From the upland we descended
into the broad groves on the river, consisting of the evergreen and a new
species of white-oak, with a large tufted top. Among these was no
brushwood, and the grassy surface gave to it the appearance of parks in an
old settled country. Following the tracks of the horses and cattle, in
search of people, we discovered a small village of
Indians. Some of
these had on shirts of civilized manufacture, but were otherwise naked,
and we could understand nothing of them ; the appeared entirely astonished
at seeing us. Shortly afterwards we gave a shout at the appearance, on a
little bluff, of a neatly-built adobe house, with glass windows. We
rode up, but to our disappointment found only Indians. There was no
appearance of cultivation, and we could see no cattle, and we supposed the
place to have been abandoned. We now pressed on more eagerly than ever ;
the river swept around a large bend to the right ; the hills hills lowered
down entirely, and gradually entering a broad valley, we came unexpectedly
on a large Indian village, where the people looked clean, and wore cotton
shirts and various other articles of dress. They immediately crowded
around us, and we had the inexpressible delight to find one who spoke a
little indifferent Spanish, but who at first confounded us by saying there
were no whites in the country ; but just then a well-dressed Indian came
up, and made his salutations in very well spoken Spanish. In answer to our
inquiries, he informed us that we were upon the Rio de los Americanos,
(the river of the Americans,) and that it joined the Sacramento about ten
miles below. Never did a name sound more sweetly ! We felt ourselves among
our countrymen ; for the name of American, in these distant parts, is
applied to the citizens of the United States. To our eager inquiries he
answered : " I am a vaquero (cow-herd) in the service of Captain
Sutter, and the people of the rancheria work for him." Our evident
satisfaction made him communicative ; and he went on to say that Captain
Sutter was a very rich man, and always glad to see his country people. We
asked for his house. He answered that is was just over the hill before us,
and offered, if we would wait a moment, to take his horse and conduct us
to it. We readily accepted this civil offer. In a short distance we came
in sight of the fort ; and, passing on the way of the house of a settler,
on the opposite side (Mr. Sinclair's,) we forded the river, and in a few
miles were met, a short distance from the fort, by Captain Sutter himself.
He gave us a most frank and cordial reception--conducted us immediately to
his house, and under his hospitable roof we had a night of rest, enjoyment
and refreshment, which none but ourselves could appreciate."
Thus far General Fremont's report, to which we may add
that he started out with fresh horses and provisions the next morning, to
attend to and to relieve the main body of the party, left higher up in the
mountains under Mr. Fitzpatrick's command ; they met them on the second
day out, a few miles below the forks of the American river, and Freemont
says : " A more forlorn and pitiable sight than they presented,
cannot well be imagined." (No wonder, that a few days before, that
Indian had taken them for his companions.) They were all on foot--each man
weak and emaciated, leading a horse or mule as week and emaciated as
themselves. They had experienced great difficulty in descending the
mountains, made slippery by rains and melting snow, and may horses fell
over the precipices and were killed, and with some were lost the packs
which they carried. Among these was a mule with the plants which were
collected since leaving Fort Hall, along a line of 2,000 miles travel. Out
of 67 horses and mules with which the party had commenced crossing the
Sierra, only 33 reached the Sacramento valley, and they only in a
condition to be led along. None of the men were lost, though a few of them
got weak-minded on the last part of the journey, caused from the
privations and exposures and overstrained exertions in crossing the
mountains.
In the following pages we shall give the history of a
party which was crossing the Sierra Nevada a few years later, but
experienced far more serious privations and a sadder end, and forever will
have a place in the annals of the history of California.
-----------------
HISTORY OF THE DONNER PARTY
[From Thompson and West's History of Nevada County.]
"Three miles from the town of Truckee, and resting in the green
lap of the Sierras, lies one of the loveliest sheets of water on the
Pacific coast. Tall mountain peaks are reflected in its clear waters,
revealing a picture of extreme loveliness and quiet peace. Yet this
peaceful scene was the amphitheater of the the most tragic event in the
annals of early California.
‘The Donner Party’ was organized in Sangamon county, Illinois, by
George and Jacob Donner and James F. Reed in the spring of 1846. In April,
1846, the party set out from Springfield, Illinois, and by the first week
in May had reached Independence, Missouri, where the party was increased
until the train numbered about two or three hundred wagons, the Donner
family numbering sixteen, the Reed family seven, the Graves family twelve,
the Murphy family thirteen. These were the principal families of the
Donner party proper. At Independence provisions were laid in for the trip
and the line of journey taken up. In the occasional glimpses we have of
the party, features of but little interest present themselves beyond the
ordinary experience of pioneer life. A letter from Mrs. George Donner,
written near the junction of the North and South Platte, dated June 16,
1846, reports a favorable journey of four hundred and fifty miles from
Independence, Missouri, with no foreboding of the terrible disasters so
soon to burst upon them. At Fort Laramie a portion of the party celebrated
the Fourth of July. Thereafter the train passed unmolested upon its
journey. George Donner was elected captain of the train at the Little
Sandy river, on the 20th of July, 1846, from which act it took
the name of ‘Donner Party.’
" At Fort Bridger, then a mere trading post, the fatal choice was
made of the route that led to such fearful disasters and tragic death. A
new route via, Salt Lake, known as ‘ Hasting’s Cut-off,’ was
recommended to the party as a shortening the distance three hundred miles.
After due deliberation the Donner party of eighty-seven souls—three
having died—were induced to separate from the larger portion of the
train (which afterwards arrived in California in safety) aud* commenced
their journey by way of Hasting’s Cut-off. They reached Weber river near
the head of the canyon in safety. From this point in their journey to Salt
Lake, almost insurmountable difficulties were encountered, and instead of
reaching Salt Lake in one week, as anticipated, over thirty days of
perilous travel were consumed in making the trip—most precious time in
view of the danger imminent in the rapidly approaching storms of the
winter. The story of their trials and sufferings in their journey to the
fatal camp at Donner lake is terrible ; nature and stern necessity seemed
arrayed against them. On the 19th of October, near the present
site of Wadsworth, Nevada, the destitute company were re-provisioned by
C.T. Stanton, furnished with food and mules, together with two Indian
vaqueros, by Captain Sutter, without compensation.
" At the present site of Reno it was concluded to rest. Three or
four days time was lost. This was the fatal act. The storm-clouds were
already brewing upon the mountains, only a few miles distant. The ascent
was ominous. Thick and thicker grew the clouds, outstripping in
threatening battalions the now eager feet of the alarmed emigrants, until,
at Prosser creek, three miles below Truckee, October 28, 1846, a month
earlier than usual, the storm set in, and they found themselves in six
inches of newly-fallen snow. On the summit it was already from two to five
feet deep. The party, in much confusion, finally reached Donner lake in
disordered fragments. Frequent and desperate attempts were made to cross
the mountain tops, but at last, baffled and despairing, they returned to
the camp at the lake. The storm now descended in all its pitiless fury
upon the ill-fated emigrants. Its dreadful import was well understood as
laden with omens of suffering and death. With slight interruptions the
storm continued for several days. The animals were literally buried alive
and frozen in the drifts. Meat was hastily prepared from their frozen
carcasses, and cabins rudely built. One, the Schallenberger cabin, erected
November, 1844, was already standing about a quarter of a mile below the
lake. This the Breen family appropriated. The Murphys erected one three
hundred yards from the lake, marked by a large stone twelve feet high. The
Graves family built theirs near Donner creek, three-quarters of a mile
further down the stream, the three forming the apex of a triangle ; the
Breen and Murphy cabins were distant from each other about one hundred and
fifty yards. The Donner brothers, with their families, hastily constructed
a brush shed in Alder creek valley, six or seven miles from the lake.
Their provisions were speedily consumed, and starvation with all its grim
attendant horrors stared the poor emigrants in the face. Day by day, with
aching hearts and paralyzed energies, they awaited, amid the beating
storms of the Sierras, the dread revelation of the morrow, ‘hoping
against hope’ for some welcome sign.
"On the 16th day of December, 1846, a party of
seventeen were enrolled to attempt the hazardous journey over the
mountains, to press into the valley for relief. Two returned, remaining
fifteen, including Mary Graves and here sister, Mrs. Sarah Fosdick, and
several other women, pressed on. The heroic C. T. Stanton and noble F. W.
Graves (who left his wife and seven children at the lake to await his
return) being the leaders. This was the ‘Forlorn Hope Party,’ over
whose dreadful sufferings and disaster we must throw a veil. Death in the
most awful form reduced the wretched company to seven—two men and five
women—when suddenly tracks were discovered imprinted in the snow.
"Can any one imagine," says Mary Graves in her recital,
"what joy these footprints gave us? We ran as fast as our strength
would carry us." Turning a sharp point they suddenly came to an
Indian rancheria. The acorn-bread offered them by the kind and
awe-stricken savages was eagerly devoured. But on they pressed with their
Indian guides only to repeat their dreadful sufferings until at last, one
evening about the last of January, Mr. Eddy with his Indian guide,
preceding the party fifteen miles reached Johnson’s ranch, on Bear
river, the first settlement on the western slope of the Sierras, when
relief was sent back as soon as possible, and the remaining six survivors
were brought in next day. It had been thirty-two days since they left
Donner lake. No tongue could tell, no pen portray, the awful suffering,
the terrible and appalling straits, as well as the noble deeds and heroism
that characterized this march of death. The eternal mountains, whose
granite faces bore witness to their sufferings are fit monuments to mark
the last resting-place of Charles T. Stanton, that cultured heroic soul,
who groped his way through the blinding snow of the Sierras to
immortality. The divinest encomium—‘ He gave his life as a ransom for
many’ –in the epitaph, foreshadowed in his own noble words, ‘ I will
bring aid to these famishing people or lay down m life.’
" Nothing could be done, in the meantime, for the relief of the
sufferers at Donner lake, without securing help from Fort Sutter, which
was speedily accomplished by John Rhodes. In a week, six men, fully
provisioned, with Captain Reasin P. Tucker at their head, reached
Johnson's ranch, and in ten or twelve days' time, with provisions, mules,
etc., the first relief party started for the scene at Donner lake. It was
a fearful undertaking, but on the morning of the 19th of February, 1847,
the above party began the descent of the gorge leading to Donner lake.
" We have purposely thrown a veil over the dreadful sufferings of
the stricken band left in their wretched hovels at Donner lake. Reduced to
the verge of starvation, many died (including children, seven of whom were
nursing babes), who, in this dreadful state of necessity, were summarily
disposed of. Rawhides, moccassins*, strings, etc., were eaten. But relief
was now close at hand for the poor, stricken sufferers. On the evening of
the 19th of February, 1847, the stillness of death, that had settled upon
the scene, was broken by the prolonged shouts. In an instant the painfully
sensitive ears of the despairing watchers caught the welcome sound.
Captain Tucker, with his relief party, had at last arrived upon the scene.
Every face was bathed in tears, and the strongest men of the relief party
melted at the appaling* sight, sat down and wept with the rest. But time
was precious, as storms were imminent. The return party was quickly
gathered. Twenty-three members started, among them several women and
children. Of this number two were compelled to return, and three perished
on the journey. Many hardships and privations were experienced, and their
provisions were soon entirely exhausted. Death once more stared them in
the face, and despair settled upon them. But assistance was near at hand.
James F. Reed, who had preceded the Donner party by some months, suddenly
appeared with a second relief party, on the 25th of February, 1847. The
joy of the meeting was indescribable, especially between the family and
the long absent father. Reprovisioned, the party pressed on, and gained
their destination after severe suffering, with eighteen members, only
three having perished. Reed continued this journey to the cabins at Donner
lake. There the scene was simply indescribable ; starvation and disease
were fast claiming their victims. March 1st, according to Breen's diary,
Reed and his party reached the camp. Proceeding directly to his cabin, he
was espied by his little daughter, who, with here sister, was carried back
by the previous party, and immediately recognized with a cry of joy.
Provisions were carefully dealt out to the famishing people, and immediate
steps were taken for the return. Seventeen composed this party. Half
starved and completely exhausted, they were compelled to camp in the midst
of a furious storm, in which Mr. Reed barely escaped with his life. This
was 'Starved Camp,' and from this point Mr. Reed, with his two little
children and another person, struggled ahead to obtain hasty relief, if
possible.
" On the second day after leaving ' Starved Camp,' Mr. Reed and
the three companions were overtaken by Cady and Stone, and on the night of
the third day reached Woodworth's camp, at Bear
valley, in safety. The
horrors of Starved Camp beggar all description, indeed, require none. The
third relief party, composed of John Stark, Howard Oakley, and Charles
Stone, were nearing the rescue, while W. H. Foster and W. H. Eddy (rescued
by a former party) were bent on the same mission. These, with Hiram
Miller, set out from Woodworth's camp on the following morning after
Reed's arrival. The eleven were duly reached, but were in a starving
condition, and nine of the eleven were unable to walk. By the noble
resolution and herculean efforts of John Stark, a part of the number were
borne and urged onward to their destination, while the other portion was
compelled to remain and await another relief party. When the third relief
party, under Foster and Eddy, arrived at Donner lake, the sole survivors
of Alder creek were George Donner, the captain of the company, and his
heroic and faithful wife, whose devotion to her dying husband caused her
own death, during the last and fearful days waiting for the fourth relief.
George Donner knew he was dying, and urged his wife to save her life and
go with her little ones with the third relief, but she refused. Nothing
was more heart-rending than her sad parting with her beloved little ones,
who wound their childish arms lovingly around her neck, and besought her
with mingled tears and kisses to join them. But duty prevailed over
affection, and she retraced the weary distance to die with him whom she
had promised to love and honor to the end. Such scenes of anguish are
seldom witnessed on the sorrowing earth, and such acts of triumphant
devotion are among the most golden deeds. The snowy cerements of Donner
lake enshrouded in its stilly whiteness no purer life, no purer heart than
Mrs. George Donner's. The terrible recitals that close this awful tragedy
we willingly omit.
"The third relief party rescued four of the last five survivors ;
the fourth and last relief party rescued the last survivor, Lewis Keseberg,
on the 7th of April. Ninety names are given as members of the Donner
party. Of these forty-two perished, six did not live to reach the
mountains, and forty-eight survived. Twenty-six, and possibly
twenty-eight, out of the forty-eight survivors are living to-day--several
of them residing in San Jose, Calistoga, Los Gatos, Marysville, and in
Oregon. " Thus ends this narrative of horrors, without a
parallel in the annals of American history, of appaling* disaster, fearful
sufferings, heroic fortitude, self-denial and heroism."
About two weeks before the Donner party found the way across the
mountains barred with snow, another emigrant train passed in safety ;
among these emigrants were Claude Chana, now living at Wheatland, Yuba
county, and Charles Covillaud, one of the original proprietors of
Marysville, who married Mary Murphy, of the Donner party, from whom the
name of Marysville was derived. The widely different experiences of those
two parties, in crossing the Sierras over the same mountain route, gives a
striking illustration of the sudden changes that, inside of a few days, by
means of one single storm, may appear in this region, and that traveling
in, or over the mountains in the winter season, under any consideration,
is venturesome enterprise.
[For those who don't know what this recount purposely omitted, is
that the Donner party was committed to cannibalism of their dead in order
to survive. We'll try and find another recount of the events to complete
this section so it depicts the full and accurate history of the Donner
party.]
* Represents words that were
misspelled in the book and intentionally left that way.
1. This observation indicated the
Sacramento river and Suisun bay, with the San Joaquin river emptying into
it.
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