FISH CREEK VALLEY. 25 
was therefore entirely unnecessary. But, as I have already stated, our observation of that 
line was quite sufficient to determine its entire practicability and excellence as a railroad line. 
We now turned south, following Fish Creek valley, which is from 250 to 300 yards wide where 
we entered it, but soon opens to a much greater width, and sweeps off to the south and 
southwest. Ten miles brought us to camp, the main body of the party having crossed 
the mountains, under Captain Morris’ direction, by a superior wagon-road measuring 18.63 
miles. The valley is here several miles wide, and the stream lined with grass, which is not 
all, however, of a superior quality. Many of the small settlements of Utah are not so well 
supplied with the requisites for successful cultivation as those found on this stream, on which 
we found a band of twenty Shoshonee Indians encamped, besides women and children. They are 
mounted, and contrast strikingly with their Goshoot neighbors (Diggers) in the plump condi- 
tion of their persons, although they complain of hunger; and in clothing, blankets and buffalo- 
robes being common among them. Our Indian guides left us here, as we were approaching the 
western line of their territory, and we endeavored, unsuccessfully, to obtain one from the Sho- 
shonees to accompany us—their perfect knowledge of the country being of great service in 
designating the points at which water and grass can be found. 
ay 16.—Leaving camp, we took a nearly west course by the shortest route we could discover, 
leading to a favorable passage of the low mountains in that direction. The country was at first 
gently rolling, but soon became more broken and hilly, and covered with an unusual growth of 
cedar—artemisia covering the whole face of the country, and the soil light and dusty. The 
rocks of the lower hills were an indurated clay, and a sandstone, easily crumbled; but the 
higher hills were metamorphic, surmounted by granite. I rode to the summit of several high 
peaks to the north of our path, to obtain a better view of the country, and, if possible, to 
discover more favorable passes in this range, but without success. We therefore descended 
to the west to a valley but three or four miles in width—which extends northwest to the 
proposed railroad line, as we subsequently ascertained, and southeast to the head of Fish Creek 
valley, by which this mountain range can, therefore, be turned to the south, fifteen miles 
above our morning camp—and crossed to a pass marked by a high peak, at the southern 
base of which it ascends. The opening or gate to this pass, towards the valley, does not exceed 
50 feet in width, the hills of metaphoric rocks being 200 feet high. The dry bed of the 
pass furnishes a fine road. It rained almost constantly on the mountains during the day, 
and a hail-storm and one or two showers swept over our path. We encamped a mile above 
the foot of the pass, and an equal distance below a small spring of fresh water, to which we 
did not proceed, as the fine grass of the mountain was saturated with rain, and we had provided 
ourselves with a supply in the morning, not knowing that it could be found at camp. Just 
before encamping, two or three Goshoots, who had declined to accompany us in the morning, 
came up with us, and others arrived during the night. 
May 17.—We followed up the ravine, in which we had encamped, for three miles, to where 
a more broad and open passage to the north extends into the valley we crossed just below that 
camp, and, as we entered it, changed our course more to the south, and in three miles reached 
the divide, from which I rode two miles to the west to the summit of a high ridge, from which 
I obtained an extensive view of the valley to the west and of a large mountain-range beyond, 
extending considerably to the north and south, upon which there were still large fields of snow, 
and lying directly in the line I wished to explore. The intermediate valley was destitute of 
grass, and the distance too great, with an unfavorable light, to allow me to see any evidences 
of water on its western border. I returned, therefore, to the pass, and encamped a mile and a 
half to the west of its summit, at a fine spring, which sends out a fine stream watering a small 
field of grass, and again disappearing as suddenly as it rose. I made presents to the miserable, 
emaciated Indians who visited our last and present camps, and they were made happy not alone 
with cloths and knives, but pails-full of soup, on which I feed all who call on us. The morning 
was pleasant, turning cool towards noon, with light showers of rain in the evening. Near 
4b 
