68 
CROSSING THE "WAHSATCH MOUNTAINS. 
sented to be much more practicable than any other for wagons; and we therefore followed it for 
two miles and three-quarters, to where the trail leaves it. The labor on this short space was 
very considerable, occupying a large party the whole day in cutting willows and digging down the 
banks to allow us repeatedly to cross and recross the creek, and to pass along the narrow ravine; 
two wagons having overturned after the road was deemed practicable. Our progress was five 
miles during the day, encamping at sundown at the mouth of a beautiful ravine of abundant grass, 
with fine groves of aspen on the hill-sides—almost the only timber visible in this part of the mount¬ 
ains—for our camp-fires ; and the loveliness of our camp, in this mountain vale, is increased by a 
clear sky and bright moon. Barometers give us an elevation of 679 feet above our morning camp. 
October 15.—Rising rapidly for half a mile, the little ravine in which we had encamped termi¬ 
nated, and we ascended its eastern slope by a steep path through a small aspen grove; and then 
following the ridge, rising still more rapidly for the next half mile, we passed over its summit 
which divides the waters of the two little creeks of our last and present camps, the Swam-bah 
and Un-got-tah-bi-kin—an elevation considerably higher than that of the WahsatchGap. We 
then descended into the valley of the last-named creek, which we followed during the remainder 
of the day, encamping just before sundown at the junction of this with another small creek from 
the southeast. Here the valley opens to the width of half a mile, and the surrounding hills are 
much lower than those over which we have been passing. The hills and valleys in every direc¬ 
tion sustain the character of those of the last two days, in beauty and in the luxuriance of the 
grass, and absence of large trees. The labor of preparing the road, though considerable in re¬ 
moving scrubby oaks, pines, cedars and rocks, was much less than that of the preceding day; 
but we only made eight and a fourth miles from early morning to late evening, having passed a 
high mountain and descended 1,100 feet below the level of our morning camp. 
Colonel Burwell and Mr. Ross, from the party emigrating to California and driving stock for 
that market, who have continued to follow our route during the summer, from a week to ten 
days behind us, came into our camp just after dark, with their horses quite broken down from 
hard riding, having left their party at Green river and taken six days to make the distance which 
has occupied us for two weeks. Having exhausted their supply of provisions, they have come 
to us for relief, and will return to-morrow to meet their friends w T ith the small amount we are 
able to furnish them. I have already noticed their loss of fine horses by a stampede, as we were 
starting out. A similar misfortune overtook them above Fort Atkinson, on the Arkansas river, 
attended with the loss of several of their riding-animals. Some of their sheep fell sore-footed 
while on that part of the route, also, and were unable to travel; and recently, near Green river, 
they were forty hours without water, and a few of their cattle, coming to water in a miry pool, 
crowded over each other with such violence that some of them were never recovered from the 
mire. The Indians on the Uncompahgra had threatened to fight them if they persisted in cross¬ 
ing their country, but, finding they could not intimidate them, did not attempt to execute the 
threat. On Green river the Indians assisted in crossing the sheep, but had slyly pierced three or 
four with arrows as they were feeding among the bushes, although they had been presented with 
half a dozen. They represent their cattle and sheep to be in superior condition, and in passing 
through the lower settlements in this Territory, they were so represented—a fact which bears 
directly upon the grass on this route. 
Timber upon the mountains, near our camp, alone is wanting to make the evening scenery, in 
the clear full moon, as delightful as mountain travellers can desire. 
October 17.—Our Utah guide, Tewip Narrienta, left us this morning to return to his squaw and 
papoose, for whom he expressed much fear lest in his absence they might suffer for want of food; 
but, as they were subsisting when he left them on the still abundant en-carpe, or buffalo-berries, 
gathered by the squaw, there was no doubt that his anxiety was attributable to our proximity to 
the Mormon settlements. He repeatedly warned us against these people. His services for the 
few days that he was with us were valuable; for he was one of the best guides I have ever seen, 
