FREMONT, JOHN CHARLES. 



341 



We were now better acquainted with the topogra- 

 phy of the country, and I directed him to bring back 

 with him, if it were in any way possible, four or five 

 mules, with provisions and blankets. With me were 

 Maxwell and Ayer ; and after we had remained near- 

 ly an hour on the rock, it became so unpleasantly 

 cold, though the day was bright, that we set out 

 on our return to the camp, at which we all arrived 

 safely, straggling in one after the other. I continued 

 ill during the atternoon, but became better toward 

 sundown, when my recovery was completed by the 

 appearance of Basil and four men, all mounted. The 

 men who had gone with him had been too much fa- 

 tigued to return, and were relieved by those in charge 

 of the horses; but in his powers of endurance Basil 

 resembled more a mountain goat than a man. They 

 brought blankets and provisions, and we enjoyed 

 well our dried meat and a cup of good coffee. We 

 rolled ourselves up in our blankets, and, with our feet 

 turned to a blazing fire, slept soundly until morning. 

 15th. It had been supposed that we had finished 

 with the mountains ; and the evening before it had 

 been arranged that Carson should set out at daylight, 

 and return to breakfast at the Camp of the Mules, 

 taking with him all but four or five men, who were to 

 stay with me and bring back the mules and instru- 

 ments. Accordingly, at the break of day they set 

 out. With Mr. Preuss and myself remained Basil 

 Lajeunesse, Clement Lambert, Janisse, and Desco- 

 teaux. When we had secured strength for the day 

 by a hearty breakfast, we covered what remained, 

 which was enough for one meal, with rocks, in order 

 that it might be safe from any marauding bird, and, 

 saddling our mules, turned our faces once more to- 

 ward the peaks. This time we determined to proceed 

 quietly and cautiously ? deliberately resolved to ac- 

 complish our object if it were within the compass of 

 human means. We were of opinion that a long defile 

 which lay to the left of yesterday's route would lead 

 us to the foot of the main peak. Our mules had been 

 refreshed by the fine grass in the little ravine at the 

 Island Camp, and we intended to ride up the defile as 

 far as possible, in order to husband our strength for 

 the main ascent. Though this was a fine passage, 

 still it was a defile of the most rugged mountains 

 known, and we had many a rough and steep slippery 

 place to cross before reaching the end. In this place 

 the sun rarely shone ; snow lay alonw the border of 

 the small stream which flowed through it, and occa- 

 sional icy passages made the footing of the mules very 

 insecure, and the rocks and ground were moist with 

 the trickling waters in this spring of mighty rivers. 

 We soon had the satisfaction to find ourselves riding 

 along the huge wall which forms the central summits 

 of the chain. There at last it rose by our sides, a 

 nearly perpendicular wall of granite, terminating 

 2,000 to 3,000 feet above our heads in a serrated line 

 of broken, jagged cones. We rode on until we came 

 almost immediately below the main peak, which I 

 denominated the Snow peak, as it exhibited more 

 snow to the eye than any of the neighboring summits. 

 Here were three small lakes of a green color, each, per- 

 haps, of a thousand yards in diameter, and apparently 

 very deep. These lay in a kind of chasm ; and, ac- 

 cording to the barometer, we had attained but a few 

 hundred feet above the Island lake. The barometer 

 here stood at 20 '450, attached thermometer 70. 



We managed to get our mules up to a little bench 

 about a hundred feet above the lakes, where there 

 was a patch of good grass, and turned them loose to 

 graze. During our rough ride to this place they had 

 exhibited a wonderful surefootedness. Parts of the 

 defile were filled with angular, sharp fragments of 

 rock, three or four and eight or ten feet cube ; and 

 among these they had worked their way, leaping 

 from one narrow point to another, rarely making a 

 false step, and giving us no occasion to dismount. 

 Having divested ourselves of every unnecessary^ en- 

 cumbrance, we commenced the ascent. This time, 

 like experienced travelers, we did not press ourselves, 

 but climbed leisurely, sitting down so soon as we 



found breath beginning to fail. At intervals we 

 reached places where a number of springs gushed from 

 the rocks, and about 1,800 feet above the lakes came 

 to the snow line. From this point our progress was 

 uninterrupted climbing. Hitherto I had worn a pair 

 of thick moccasins, with soles of parfleche, but here I 

 put on a light, thin pair which I had brought for the 

 purpose, as now the use of our toes became necessary 

 to a further advance. 1 availed myself of a sort of 

 comb of the mountain, which stood against the wall 

 like a buttress, and which the wind and the solar radia- 

 tion, joined to the steepness of the smooth rock, had 

 kept almost entirely free from snow. Up this I 

 made my way rapidly. Our cautious method of ad- 

 vancing at the outset had spared my strength ; and, 

 with the exception of a slight disposition to headache, 

 I felt no remains of yesterday's illness. In a few 

 minutes we reached a point where the buttress was 

 overhanging, and there was no other way of sur- 

 mounting the difficulty than by passing around one 

 side of it, which was the face of a vertical precipice of 

 several hundred feet. 



Putting hands and feet in the crevices between the 

 blocks, I succeeded in getting over it, and, when I 

 reached the top, found my companions in a small 

 valley below. Descending to them, we continued 

 climbing, and in a short time reached the crest. I 

 sprang upon the summit, and another step would 

 have precipitated me into an immense snow field five 

 hundred feet below. To the edge of this field was a 

 sheer icy precipice ; and then, with a gradual fall, the 

 field sloped off for about a mile, until it struck the 

 foot of another lower ridge. I stood on a narrow crest, 

 about three feet in width, with an inclination of about 

 20 north 51 east. [This mountain is now known 

 as Fremont's Peak, in western Wyoming. Ed.] As 

 soon as I had gratified the first feelings of curiosity, I 

 descended, and each man ascended in his turn ; for I 

 would onljr allow one at a time to mount the unstable 

 and precarious slab, which it seemed a breath would 

 hurl into the abyss below. We mounted the barome- 

 ter in the snow of the summit, and, fixing a ramrod 

 in a crevice, unfurled the national flag to wave in the 

 breeze where never flag waved before. During our 

 morning's accent, we had met no sign of animal life, 

 except the small sparrow-like bird already mentioned. 

 A stillness the most profound and a terrible solitude 

 forced themselves constantly on the mind as the great 

 features of the place. Here, on the summit, where 

 the stillness was absolute, unbroken by any sound, 

 and solitude complete, we thought ourselves beyond 

 the region of animated life ; but while we were sitting 

 on the rock, a solitary bee (bromus, the humble-bee) 

 came winging his flight from the eastern valley, and 

 lit on the knee of one of the men. It was a strange 

 place, the icy rock and the highest peak of the Eocky 

 mountains, for a lover of warm sunshine and flowers ; 

 and we pleased ourselves with the idea that he was 

 the first of his species to cross the mountain barrier 

 a solitary pioneer to foretell the advance of civilization. 

 I believe that a moment's thought would have made 

 us let him continue his way unharmed- but we 

 carried out the law of this country, where all animat- 

 ed nature seems at war ; and, seizing him immedi- 

 ately, put him in at least a fit place in the leaves of 

 a large book, among the flowers we had collected on 

 our way. The barometer stood at 18-293, the at- 

 tached thermometer at 44 ; giving for the elevation 

 of this summit 13.570 feet above the Gulf of Mexico, 

 which may be called the highest flight of the bee. It 

 is certainly the highest known flight of that insect. 

 From the description given by Mackenzie of the 

 mountains where he crossed them, with that of a 

 French officer still farther to the north, and Col. 

 Long's measurements to the south, joined to the 

 opinion of the oldest traders of the country, it is pre- 

 sumed that this is the highest peak of the Eocky 

 mountains. The day was sunny and bright, but a 

 slight shining mist hung over the lower plains, which 

 interfered with our view of the surrounding country. 

 On one side we overlooked innumerable lakes and 



