NARRATIVE AND ITINERARY-WILLAMETTE VALLEY. 
101 
ning all the morning, suddenly hurst 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 
hearing 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 hushes 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 precijiice, 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. Hews 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- 
