NARRATIVE AND ITINER AKY WILLAMETTE VALLEY. 101 



ning all the morning, suddenly burst upon us, causing great anxiety lest it should change into 

 snow. Sam and I explored the vicinity on foot, and I was fortunate enough to obtain a good 

 bearing to Mount Hood through the clouds. It was N. 40° E. We were on a narrow ridge, 

 with an immense canon on each side of us, and the supply of grass was very limited. The 

 number of whortleberries was so great that we could strip them from the bushes by handfuls. 



October 12. — All last night and to-day, a cold and steady rain poured down, chilling our animals 

 and rendering the trail slippery and dangerous. Although I greatly feared snow, I decided 

 to remain in camp and recruit the animals, as many must have given out had we proceeded. 

 To eke out their scanty supply of grass, I issued a small quantity of hard bread, which most 

 of them ate eagerly. We collected heaps of pine knots and logs in different parts of the 

 opening, in order to pack the mules by fire-light on the following morning, and thus get a 

 very early start. In the night it cleared off, and Mr. Anderson and I left our beds, and obtained 

 good observations for latitude. 



October 13. — We had reveille at two o'clock this morning, and started as soon as it was light 

 enough to see the trail. It followed a continuous ridge, varied by a succession of steep peaks, 

 slippery from the rain. After slowly climbing over them for about three miles, we encountered 

 one so steep that the ascent seemed impossible. We, however, carefully urged the animals 

 along a narrow ledge, which wound up the face of the tremendous precipice, and at length 

 gained the summit. The blue Willamette valley, marked by a line of fog rising from the river, 

 lay below us, and the word "settlements," shouted down the line, inspired every one with 

 new life. From this point we began a rapid descent to the level of the valley. At the foot 

 of the mountain there was a small grassy swamp, around which the trail wound in nearly a 

 semi-circle. Beyond it we crossed a rocky pedregal, and then followed another ridge less 

 mountainous than the former one. It gradually disappeared, and left us among thick fallen 

 timber. A very few clumps of bunch grass again began to appear among the trees. This 

 trail had been used by the Indians of the Willamette valley to reach the whortleberry patches, 

 and they had cut through many of the logs. Still vast numbers were left, and we were 

 obliged, in several places, to clear a path with axes. We slowly worked our way on, in this 

 manner, until night overtook us, and compelled us to encamp in the dense forest without 

 either water or grass. During the night the cries of the half starved animals were very 

 distressing. We also suffered much ourselves from thirst, which a diet of musty hard bread 

 did not tend to allay. 



October 14. — Yesterday, one of our best mules, with a valuable pack, was lost on the way, and I 

 sent two men back this morning to search for him. The fallen timber diminished in quantity as 

 we advanced, and the trail soon became excellent. Pressing rapidly forward we reached, 

 about five miles from camp, a little log cabin on the edge of the forest, and, with a feeling of 

 inexpressible satisfaction, found ourselves at last in the long wished for Willamette valley. 



The owner of the cabin was in great fear and trouble. News had come by water from the 

 Dalles, that all the Indians east of the mountains had banded together against the whites, and 

 that Major Haller had been defeated, and his party of United States troops nearly cut off. The 

 Governor of the Territory had called for volunteers, and great alarm was felt lest the Indians 

 should cross the mountains, and attack the frontier settlements of the Willamette valley. This 

 man was just starting to go to one of the large towns for protection. He expressed the greatest 

 astonishment at our having succeeded in crossing the mountains, which had always been con- 



