88 
NARRATIVE AND ITINERARY—DALLES OF THE COLUMBIA. 
Indian whom Colonel Fremont carried, in 1843, to the eastern States to he educated. I asked 
him very particularly about a summer trail up the Des Chutes valley, which Colonel Fremont 
was informed lay nearer the Cascade mountains than the one he followed. The Indian assured 
me that there was no such trail, and that, “ if I wanted to take my pack mules through that 
region, I must go first with pick and shovel and make a trail, and then return for the animals.” 
Although I questioned many white men and Indians about this trail, I could never find 
one that had even heard of it, and I am satisfied, from my own subsequent explorations, that 
none such exists. Colonel Fremont was, undoubtedly, misled by false reports ; and the trail 
seen by him on December 4, 1843, probably terminated, like many which disappointed us in 
the same vicinity, in a whortleberry patch. 
At the Dalles of the Columbia, situated a short distance above the .town, the river rushes 
through a chasm only about 200 feet wide, with vertical basaltic sides rising from 20 to 30 feet 
above the water. Steep hills closely border the chasm, leaving, in some places, scarcely room 
on the terrace to pass on horseback. The water rushes through this basaltic trough with such 
violence, that it is always dangerous, and in some stages of the water impossible, for a boat to 
pass down. The contraction of the river bed extends for about three miles. Near the lower end 
of it, the channel divides into several sluices and then gradually becomes broader, until, near 
the town where it makes a great bend to the south, it is over a quarter of a mile in width. The 
Dalles is a favorite fishing resort for the Indians ; and we saw, on the river bank, many piles 
of salmon which they had preserved for winter use. There are many fine specimens of columnar 
basalt in this vicinity, and the banks rise in low basaltic terraces, which, on the northern side 
opposite the town, are very rough and broken. 
Our provisions arrived from Vancouver on September 16, and my men immediately began to 
prepare them for transportation on the pack mules. 
September 17.—To-day I went, by steamboat, to make a rough reconnaissance of the river as 
far down as the Cascades, and to determine its descent there, leaving orders with Mr. Coleman 
to start for the Depot camp as soon as the provisions were ready. A small steamboat runs 
from the Dalles to the Cascades, where there is a land portage four miles and a half in length. 
From its lower terminus, another steamboat runs to Vancouver, and thence to Portland in the 
Willamette valley. I feel under great obligations to Captain W. B. Wells, the chief proprietor 
of this line of steamboats, and to Mr. L. W. Coe, an artist by profession, but now connected 
with the company, for their personal kindness, and for the valuable topographical information 
which they furnished. 
In passing down the Columbia from the Dalles, the natural scenery was of the most magnificent 
description. The river soon entered a gorge of the Cascade Range, and wound through a wilder¬ 
ness of mountains, whose silent grandeur was truly impressive. In about ten miles we passed 
the narrow entrance of the canon of Ivlik-a-tat river, a mountain stream flowing from the north. 
Soon afterwards we passed the Mam-a-loos islands, the lonely resting place of a departed nation of 
red men, whose bones lay bleaching in the sun. The method of burial had been very simple. Four 
stakes, interlaced with twigs and covered with brush, formed a tomb, which had been gradually 
filled with dead bodies, and then abandoned to the wind and rain. Ten miles more brought us 
to Dog River valley, a little, fertile spot extending towards Mount Hood, and forming a pleasing 
contrast to the savage mountains by which it was bordered. Nearly opposite was the mouth of 
White Salmon river, which struggled through a narrow gorge opening towards Mount Adams. 
About ten miles further on, we passed on the northern bank Wind mountain, a round isolated 
