94 NARRATIVE AND ITINERARY — DES CHUTES CANON. 



with Mr. Coleman, I decided, rather than to run the risk of ruining it hy transporting it in its 

 present condition, to remove the mercury, and replace it after rejoining him. 



Abandoning, therefore, my intention of leaving the river as soon as possible and further 

 exploring for a railroad pass near the mountains, which the loss of the barometer rendered 

 inexpedient, I followed down the canon about eleven miles, to where we had crossed it in going 

 to the Dalles. The trail was rendered execrable by numerous steep spurs, which ran out to the 

 very water's edge, and compelled us to toil up sometimes as high as 500 feet, and then abruptly 

 descend again. We began to find concretes and tufas on the sides of the canon as we approached 

 our old camping place; but there was none of this formation near Mount Jefferson. At one 

 place there were a few rude pictures of men and animals scratched on the rocks by some 

 wandering savage. On the march to-day we shot and secured one of the fine salmon which 

 abound in the river, and which are highly prized by the Indians for winter food. Three streams, 

 flowing in deep canons, entered the river from the north. One of them showed, by the milky 

 color of its water, that it came from the melting snows of Mount Jefferson, and thus proved that 

 the country between us and Chit-tike creek was furrowed by at least one enormous ravine, which 

 could not be headed. After reaching our old trail, we followed it to Psuc-see-que creek, and 

 encamped there after sunset ; having travelled twenty-one miles to-day over a most difficult route. 



September 30. — As it was highly desirable to determine accurately the position and character 

 of the canon of the Des Chutes river, I started this morning, with one man, to follow down the 

 creek to its mouth, leaving the rest of the party in camp. Having yesterday experienced the 

 pleasures of travelling in the bottom of a canon, I concluded to-day to try the northern bluff. 

 It was a dry, barren plain, gravelly and sometimes sandy, with a few bunches of grass scattered 

 here and there. Tracks of antelopes or deer were numerous. After crossing one small ravine, 

 and riding about five miles from camp, we found ourselves on the edge of the vast canon of the 

 river, which, far below us, was rushing through a narrow trough of basalt, slightly resembling 

 the Dalles of the Columbia. We estimated the depth of the canon at 1,000 feet, but I think it 

 would be found to be deeper, if measured. On each side, the precipices were very steep, and 

 marked, in many places, by horizontal lines of vertical basaltic columns fifty or sixty feet in 

 height. The man who was with me rolled a large rock, shaped like a grindstone and weighing 

 about 200 pounds, from the summit. It thundered down, for at least a quarter of a mile, now over 

 a vertical precipice, now over a steep mass of detritus, until, at length, it plunged into the river 

 with a hollow roar, which echoed and re-echoed through the gorge for miles. By ascending a 

 slight hill which rose from the plain, I obtained a fine view of the surrounding country, and 

 many valuable bearings to the mountain peaks. The generally level character of the great 

 basaltic table land around us was very manifest from this point, although, near the trail, it is 

 marked by a continual succession of deep ravines. Bounded on the west by the Cascade moun- 

 tains, and on the north and east by the Mutton mountains, the plain extends far towards the 

 south, a sterile, treeless waste. At the mouth of the Psuc-see-que canon there is a singular hill 

 isolated from the plain. Its top is a nearly circular floor of basalt, surrounded by vertical 

 precipices about forty or fifty feet deep, and then by a collection of detritus, sloping down at an 

 angle of about 45° to the level of the river. 



In returning to the camp, we tried the canon of the creek, which we found very narrow and 

 stony, and often so obstructed by bushes as to compel us to climb along its steep sides. About 

 a mile below camp it narrowed into a wild, natural gateway, the top of which, elevated about 

 500 feet above the creek, was formed of two vertical precipices of columnar basalt, each about 



