[From James G. Scrugham, Nevada: The Narrative of the Conquest of a Frontier Land (1935), vol. I, pp. 85-100]

X

When Fremont, with his expedition, left the Great Basin on his homeward journey, in the spring of 1844, as narrated in the previous chapter, he left behind him, still unexplored and unknown to white men, all of the great desert south and west of Great Salt Lake, excepting those portions visited by Jedediah Smith in 1827, and by Joseph Walker in 1832 and 1833. This unknown land Fremont earnestly desired to explore, and to that end he was laying his plans while on his return to St. Louis from his first expedition. In the meantime the political situation in relation to the territory between the United States and the Pacific Ocean was approaching a momentous change, which was certainly not retarded by the re-ports which Fremont submitted to Congress and which were widely read. All of the territory of the Great Basin and of California at this time was under the dominion of Mexico. Only by courtesy could it be explored by a government expedition sent out by the United States. There was a rapidly growing conviction, not only in Washington, but in London, Paris, and possibly St. Petersburg, that the western portion of America, between the 33rd and 49th degrees of north latitude, with its wonderful potentialities for commerce, must, in the not far distant future, fall into the possession of some nation with the will and the power to protect its citizens and foster its trade. This, too, was not only the conviction but the hope of many intelligent citizens of Mexico who dwelt within the territory named. It was not so much a question of its retention by Mexico, which had not only failed to protect its own citizens but also the foreigners lawfully within the territory, as it was a question of what sovereignty should take it over. Hovering along the coast of California, on one pretext or another, the ships of war flying the flags of England, France, and the United States, were watching eagerly the unfolding drama, alert and ready to strike should the opportune moment come. Led by the Senators from Missouri, and informed by returning explorers and mariners, the people of the United States were rapidly coming to the conclusion that the interest of the nation, and indeed of civilization, demanded that when the inevitable change of sovereignty occurred the territory of Mexico north of the 33rd parallel should become a part of the young American republic. It is not the present purpose to discuss the policies of the government at this time; doubtless many acts were performed that did not shed luster upon our diplomacy; but in its broad aspects, our course was right, and the United States would have been guilty of unpardonable folly if it had hesitated to take over that portion of Mexican territory it now possesses, and had weakly allowed England or France to grasp it.

85

NEVADA        87

Fremont's report of his recent expedition was filed on March 1, 1845, the day Texas was admitted to the Union. This report, an accurate and scientific description of the country he had traversed, and written in admirable English, was widely circulated and aroused intense interest. The admission of Texas precipitated the war with Mexico. Under the changed conditions it was but natural that Fremont's expedition of 1845 should have for its prime object the occupation of California rather than the exploration of the unknown portions of the Great Basin.

On October 13 the expedition camped at the mouth of the Jordan River, on the southern shore of Great Salt Lake. Here Captain Fremont remained for two weeks to explore the lake at this point, to recuperate his party, and to determine his future course. During this time he and Kit Carson, with a few men, rode their horses across the shallows separating the main land from a

88        NEVADA

large island near by, on which they found grass and water, and several bands of antelopes, and to which they gave the name of Antelope Island. On their return to the main land Fremont found an old Indian of the Utah tribe who gravely announced that the island and the antelope on it belonged solely to him, and demanded to be paid for the antelope killed by the men. Amused by the grave demeanor and readiness of the old native, Fremont, with equal outward gravity, presented him with a piece of red calico, a knife, and some tobacco, and thus fully restored the somewhat ruffled diplomatic relations. On October 23 the party left the camp at the mouth of the Jordan, and took up its march to the west along the south shore of the lake. Two days later they were camped in a "valley near the southwestern shore about fifty miles from the station creek" at the mouth of the Jordan. At this point they were to leave the lake for the unknown wilds and barren plains to the west, the first white party, so far as known, to cross the desert at this point. The following account of the crossing is quoted from the Memoirs :

From any neighboring mountain height looking westward, the view extended over ranges which occupied apparently the whole visible surface—nothing but mountains, and in winter-time a forbidding prospect. . . . Looking across over the crests of these ridges, which nearly all run north and south, was like looking lengthwise along the teeth of a saw. Some days here were occupied in deciding upon the direction to be taken for the onward journey. The route I wished to take lay over a flat plain covered with sage-brush. The country looked dry, and of my own men none knew anything of it; neither Walker nor Carson. The Indians declared to us that no one had ever been known to cross the plain, which was a desert; so far as any of them had ventured no water had been found. It was probably for this reason that Father Escalante had turned back. Men who have travelled over this country in later years are familiar with the stony, black, unfertile mountains, that so often discouraged and brought them disappointment. Nearly upon the line of our intended travel, and at the farther edge of the desert, apparently fifty to sixty miles away, was a peak-shaped mountain. This looked to me to be fertile, and it seemed to be safe to make an attempt to reach it. By some persuasion and the offer of a tempting reward, I had induced one of the local Indians to go as guide on the way to the mountain; willing to profit by any side knowledge of the ground, or water-hole that the rains might have left, and about which the Indians always know in their hunts through the sage-brush after small game. I arranged Carson, Archambeau, and Maxwell should set out at night, taking with them a man having charge of a pack-mule with water and provisions, and make for the mountain ; I to follow with the party the next day and make one camp out into the desert ; they to make a signal by smoke in case water should be found.

The next afternoon, when the sun was yet two hours high, with the animals rested and well watered, I started out on the plain. As we advanced this was found destitute of any vegetation except sage-bushes, and absolutely bare and smooth,

NEVADA        89

as if water had been standing upon it. The animals being fresh, I stretched far out into the plain. Traveling along in the night, after a few hours' march, my Indian lost his courage and grew so much alarmed that his knees really gave way under him and he wabbled about like a drunken man. He was not a true Utah, but rather of the Pi-Utes, a Digger of the upper class, and he was becoming demoralized at being taken so far from his gite. Seeing that he could be of no possible use I gave him his promised reward and let him go. He was so happy in his release that he bounded off like a hare through the sage-brush, fearful that I might still keep him.

Somewhat before morning I made a camp in the sage-brush, lighting fires to signal Carson's party. Before day-break Archambeau rode in; the jingling of his spurs a welcome sound, indicating as it did that he brought good tidings. They had found at the peak water and grass, and wood abundant. The gearing up was quickly done and in the afternoon we reached the foot of the mountain, where a cheerful little stream broke out and lost itself in the valley. The animals were quickly turned loose, there being no risk of their straying from the grass and water. To the friendly mountain I gave the name of Pilot Peak. From my observation this oasis is in the latitude 41-00-28, longitude 114-11-09. Sometime afterward, when our crossing of the desert became known, an emigrant caravan was taken by this route, which then became known as the Hastings Cut-off. We gave the animals here a day's rest.

            Fremont's route to the south and west of Great Salt Lake, later known as the Hastings cut-off, effected the saving of many weary days of travel for the emigrants soon to begin the great migration to California; but the long stretch of waterless waste between the lake and Pilot Peak, about seventy miles in length, was to prove a most distressing experience to all who attempted it, and the end of the trail to some. For years this portion of the route was lined with the wrecks of discarded wagons, of abandoned goods, the bones of exhausted animals, and the lonely graves of pioneers.

On the 1st of November we continued our journey. The ridges which occupied the basin and which lay across our route are short, being the links which form the ranges ; and between their over-lapping points were easy passes by which the valleys connect. This is their regular structure. Through these passes we wound our way and in the evening encamped at a spring in the head of a ravine . . . . ; and the next day I made a camp at a spring to which I gave the name of Whitton, one of my men who discovered it. In advancing, the country was always carefully examined, so far as the eye could form any judgment upon it; and from the early morning start the men were spread over it to search for a camping place which with water should give the best grass. The winter was now approaching and I had good reason to know what the snow would be in the Great Sierra. It is imprudent to linger long in the examination of the Great Basin. In order,

90        NEVADA

therefore, to use to the best advantage the interval of good weather I decided to divide my party and run two separate lines across the Basin.

This division of his party decided upon at Whitton Springs, undoubtedly took place there, though the Memoirs would indicate that it occurred a few days later on the south fork of the Humboldt. Mr. Kern, who was placed in charge of the second party, records in his journal that the party was divided at the springs, and that he, with Walker as guide, took a northwesterly course to the Humboldt River, while Fremont turned to the southwest. The maps later issued by the War Department show Fremont's course to have been to the south of Franklin Lake, and that of Kern to the north, the point of separation being at Whitton Springs, now known as Flowery Springs, near Shafter, Nevada. Fremont's orders to Kern directed that he should keep to the northwest until he crossed the main stream then known among trappers as Ogden's River, and should then follow Walker's route of 1833 down that stream, then cross to the Carson, and thence to the Walker, and meet the main division on the east shore of Walker Lake. It will be recalled that Walker in 1833 had led a party down the valley of the Ogden, or Barren River as he called it, and thence across the Sierras to California; and returning had rounded the Sierras far to the south, and had travelled along the eastern foot-hills of the mountains from Walker's Pass back to the Ogden. On that trip he had, by a well-nigh fatal detour, missed seeing Walker Lake, but in 1843 he had guided the Chiles party from Fort Hall across the divide between the headwaters of the Raft River and the small streams flowing down into the Great Basin, and thence to the Ogden, probably along his return route of 1834. He then took the Chiles party down the Ogden, across to the Carson and the Walker Rivers, and then discovered the lake which Fremont was now to name for him. He was therefore thoroughly familiar with the route over which he was to guide the party under Mr. Kern.

The party under Fremont, consisting of ten men besides the leader, left Whitton Springs on November 3 and passing south of Franklin Lake crossed the Humboldt, or Ruby, mountains and camped on November 8 on a small creek tributary to the south fork of the Humboldt, which he named Crane Creek for one of his Delaware Indians. It was at this point that Fremont gave the name of Humboldt to the range of mountains over which he had just passed, and to "the river stretching across the Basin," which he looked down upon from the summit of the pass. It was a misnomer so far as the river is concerned ; it had been known as Ogden's River for Peter Skene Ogden, chief of the Hudson's Bay Company's party who, first of white men, trapped on its waters in 1828, as related in a former chapter. By right of discovery and priority of usage the name of Ogden should have been retained for this stream. From the head of Crane Creek the party went down to the valley of the south fork of the Humboldt and thence south to the headwaters of that branch. The route now travelled from the Humboldt Mountains to Walker Lake had never before been visited by white men, unless, possibly, by Jedediah Smith on his return journey in 1828. Years afterward the Indians were wont to relate to the white settlers their terror at the appearance

NEVADA        91

of the white men with their horses and guns, and how at the unwonted visitation they had taken their children and fled to the mountains. So it happened that while Fremont discovered frequent signs of them he rarely saw the Indians themselves.

After leaving the south fork of the Humboldt on November 9, Fremont pushed forward with all possible speed in order to cross the Sierras before winter set in. In his Memoirs he says :

But the tortuous course rendered unavoidable by the necessity of using just such passes as the mountains gave, and in searching for grass and water, greatly lengthened our road. Still it gave me knowledge of the country. The early morning began the day's work by the usual careful study of the ground ahead for the indications of the best line of travel, and as soon as they were ready the hunters started out to the right and left, scouring the country as we advanced. When anything worthy of note was discovered a shot was fired. We succeeded always in finding good camping grounds, usually availing ourselves of the Indian trails which skirted the foot of the ridges. When well-marked, showing usage, these never failed to lead to water, and the larger the trail the more abundant the water. This we always found at the foot of the mountains, generally in some ravine, and quickly sinking into the ground ; never reaching the valley except in seasons of rain. Doubtless artesian wells would find it and make fertile these valleys, which are now dry and barren. Travelling along the foot of a mountain on one of these trails we discovered a light smoke rising from a ravine, and riding quickly up, found a single Indian standing before a little sage-brush fire over which was hanging a small earthen pot filled with sage-brush squirrels. Another bunch of squirrels lay near it and close by were his bow and arrows. He was in a deep brown study, thinking perhaps of some game trail which he had seen and intended to follow that afternoon. Escape for him was not possible and he tried to seem pleased, but his convulsive start and wild look around showed that he thought that his end had come. And so it would—abruptly—had the Delawares been alone. With a deprecating smile he offered us a part of his pot-au-feu and his bunch of squirrels. I reassured him with a friendly shake of the hand and a trifling gift. He was a good-looking young man, well made, as these Indians usually are, and naked as a worm. The Delawares lingered as we turned away, but I would not let them remain. Anyhow they regarded our journey as a kind of war-path, and no matter what kind of a path he is upon a Delaware is always ready to take a scalp when he is in a country where there are strange Indians. We had gone but a short distance when I found they had brought away his bows and arrows, but I had them taken immediately back. These were well made; the bow strong, and made still stronger with sinews, and the arrows were all headed with obsidian worked in the usual spear shape by patient labor, and nearly as sharp as steel.

At one of our camps on the foot-slopes of a ridge we found again springs of boiling water; but a little way distant a spring of cold water which supplied us. A day or two later

92        NEVADA

we saw mountain sheep for the first time in crossing the Basin. None were killed, but that afternoon Carson killed an antelope. That day we travelled late, making for the point of a wooded mountain, where we expected to find water; but on reaching it found only the bed of a dry creek where there was sometimes running water. It was too late to go farther, and I turned up the creek bed, taking the chance to find it above as the mountain looked promising. Well up, towards the top of the mountain, nearly two thousand feet above the plain, we came to a spring where the little basin afforded enough for careful use. A bench of the mountain near by made a good camping ground, for the November nights were cool, and newly-fallen snow marked out the higher ridges of the mountains. With grass abundant, and pine wood and cedars to keep up the night fires, we were well provided for. Sagundais who had first found the spring saw fresh tracks made in the sand by a woman's naked foot, and the spring had recently been cleaned out. But we saw no other sign of human life. We had made our supper on the antelope and were lying around the fire, and the men taking the great comfort in smoking. A good supper and a pipe make for them a comfortable ending no matter how hard the day has been. Carson, who was lying on his back with his pipe in his mouth, his hands under his head and his feet to the fire, suddenly exclaimed, half rising and pointing to the other side of the fire : "Good God! Look there !" In the blaze of the fire, peering over her skinny, crooked hands, which shaded her eyes from the glare, was standing an old woman apparently eighty years of age, nearly naked, her grizzly hair hanging down over her shoulders. She had thought it the camp of her people and had already begun to talk and gesticulate, when her open mouth was paralyzed with fright, as she saw the faces of the whites. She turned to escape, but the men gathered about her and brought her around to the fire. Hunger and cold soon dispelled her fear, and she made us understand that she had been left by her people at the spring to die, because she was very old and could gather no more seeds and was no longer good for anything. She told us she had nothing to eat and was very hungry. We gave her immediately about a quarter of the antelope, thinking she would roast it by our fire, but no sooner did she get it in her hand than she darted off into the darkness. Some one ran after her with a brand of fire, but calling after her brought no answer. In the morning, her fresh tracks at the spring showed that she had been there for water during the night. Starvation had driven her to us, but her natural fear drove her away as quickly, so soon as she had secured something to eat. Before we started we left for her at the spring a little supply from what food we had. This, with what she could gather from the nut-pine trees on the mountain, together with our fire which she could easily keep up, would probably prolong her life even after the snows came. The nut-pines and cedars extend their branches out to the ground, and in one of their thickets, as I have often proved, these make a comfortable shelter against the most violent snow-storms.

NEVADA        93

The names of my camps here along became the record of the rivalry of the men in finding good camps. It became the recurring interest of each day to prove their judgment of the country as well as their skill as hunters. The region here along had a special interest for me and our progress was slow for the next two days. We had now reached a low valley line that extends along the eastern foot of the ridges that constitute the Sierra Nevada. Into this low ground the rivers from the Sierra as well as from the Basin gather into a series of lakes extending south towards the head of the Gulf of California. I had a reason for carefully examining this part of the Basin, but the time needed for it would interfere with other objects and the winter was at hand. The place appointed for meeting the main party was on the eastward shore of Walker Lake near the point where the river to which I had given the same name enters into it. Making our way along the foot of the mountain towards our rendezvous we had reached one of the lakes where at this season the scattered Indians were gathering to fish. Turning a point on the lake shore a party of Indians, some twelve or fourteen in number, came abruptly into view. They were advancing along in Indian file, one following the other, their heads bent forward and eyes fixed on the ground. As our party met them the Indians did not turn their heads nor raise their eyes from the ground. Their conduct indicated unfriendliness, but, habituated to the uncertainties of savage life, we too, fell into their humor, and passed on our way without a halt. Even to us it was a strange meeting. It was the solitary occasion where I met such an instance of sullen and defiant hostility among Indians, and where they neither sought nor avoided conflict. I judged that they either regarded us as intruders, or that they had received some recent injury from the whites, who were now beginning to enter California, and which they wished but feared to avenge.

In this region the condition of the Indians is nearly akin to that of the lower animals. Here they are really wild men. In this wild state the Indian lives to get food. This is his business. The superfluous part of his life, that portion which can be otherwise employed, is devoted to some kind of war-fare. From this lowest condition, where he is found as the simplest of existence, up to the highest in which he is found on this continent, it is the same thing. In the Great Basin, where nearly naked he travelled on foot and lived in the sage-brush, I found him in the most elementary form; the men living alone, the women living alone, but all after food. Some-times one man cooking by his solitary fire in the sage-brush which was his home, his bow and arrows and a bunch of squirrels by his side; sometimes on the shore of a lake or river where food was more abundant, a little band of men might be found occupied in fishing; miles away a few women might be met gathering seeds and insects, or huddled up in a shelter of sage-brush to keep off the snow. And the same on the mountains or prairies where the wild Indians were found in their highest condition, where they had horses and lived in lodges. The labor of their lives was to get something to

94        NEVADA

eat. The occupation of the women was in gleaning from the earth everything of vegetable or insect life; the occupation of the men was to kill every animal they could for food and every man of every other tribe for pleasure. And in every attempt to civilize, these are the two lines upon which he is to be met.

On the 24th we camped at our rendezvous on the lake where beds of rushes made good pasturage for our animals. Three days afterwards the main party arrived. They were all in good health, and had met with no serious accidents. But the scarcity of game had made itself felt, and we were now all nearly out of provisions. It was now almost mid-winter, and the open weather could not be expected to last. In this journey across the Basin, between latitudes 41 and 38, during the month of November, from the 5th to the 25th, the mean temperature was 29 degrees at sunrise, and 40 at sunset, ranging at noon between 41 and 60. The weather continued uninterruptedly clear and beautiful until the close of the month. But though the skies were clear it was colder now that we had come within the influence of the main Sierra.

Fremont's route is fairly well established by the astronomical observations taken at the different camps. Coming down into Diamond Valley through the Ruby, or Chokup, Pass, he camped on November 11 at a spring north of Eureka to which he gave the name of Connor, for one of his men. Turning west and "using just such passes as the mountains gave" he came on November 14 to a small stream at the north end of Big Smoky Valley, to which he gave the name of Basil Creek. Following along the east flank of the Toiyabe Range to the south, he camped on the 16th at the well-known boiling springs south of the alkali lake ; and the next day was on Moore's Creek near the present site of the old town of San Antone. Turning to the west, he camped on the 21st at a spring south of Walker Lake, to which he gave the name Sagundais, for his Delaware chief who found it. Three days later he was on the east shore of Walker Lake awaiting the arrival of Kern's party.

In the meantime the party under Kern and Walker turning to the northwest from Whitton's Springs, had crossed the Goshoot mountains through Flowery Pass into Independence Valley and followed in a general course the present route of the Western Pacific Railroad to Trout Creek which they struck at a point about six miles above its confluence with the Humboldt. Concerning their route Mr. Kern's journal gives the following account:

November 5, 1845, Whitton's Springs. Today we parted company, the captain passing to the southward with a small party, to examine that portion of the Great Basin supposed to be a desert, lying between the Sierra Nevada and the Rocky Mountains. The main body of the camp, under the guidance of Mr. Joseph Walker, are to move toward the head of Mary's or Ogden's River, and down that stream to its sink or lake. From thence to Walker's Lake, where we are to meet again. These springs spread in a large marsh, furnishing an abundant supply of good grass for the animals. On the 6th, ow-

NEVADA        95

ing to a severe snow-storm, we were obliged to remain in camp. On the 7th we commenced our ascent by a steep and rocky road. The snow was falling lightly when we started, but before we reached the summit we were nearly blinded by the storm. A short descent brought us into a pleasant valley, well watered by several small streams, and timbered by aspen and cottonwood. This is really a beautiful spot, surrounded by high mountains, those on the west covered with snow. Crossing a low range of hills, we entered another valley, that takes its waters from the snowy mountains on either side. The stream (Trout Creek) after winding among the grass-covered hills, emerges into a plain, through which we could see Ogden's River flowing. Walker has given this creek the name of Walnut Creek, from one of his trappers having brought into his camp a twig of that tree found near its head ; a tree scarcely known so far west as this. Camped on Walnut Creek, having made fourteen and one-half miles.

November 8. At about six miles from our camp of last night, we struck Ogden's River. It is about 25 feet wide here and about two feet deep, with a tolerable current. Crossing without difficulty we struck the emigrant wagon-trail. Continuing down it for a few miles, we encamped a little be-low where the river receives a tributary of considerable size, coming from the northwest.

November 9. Still on emigrant trail. This has proved of great assistance to our tired animals ; they appear to have new life. Met today Sho-sho-nee Indians, who report three separate parties of emigrants having passed this fall. About four miles above our camp tonight are some hot springs (Elko) too hot to bear one's hands in.

November 10. Crossed the river several times. At one point the high rocky ridges that bound the bottom came so close to the banks of the river, we were obliged to pass in the water. The timber is principally cottonwood.

November 12. Continued among the hills for about five miles, when we again struck the river. The country is be-coming more open. The hills on the right make a wide sweep from the river, returning to it again at our camp of this evening.

November 13. On the left bank the mountains are close and high and rugged, in their character. The river presents but little variety, always the same winding crooked stream.

On the 23rd November we arrived at the sink or lake. This lake (Humboldt) is about eight miles long by two in width ; it is marshy, overgrown with bull-rushes, at the upper end. On the eastern side is a range of low hills. On the western side is a level plain of clay mixed with sand. The country here becomes more desolate in its appearance. We have been fifteen days on this river, making a distance of nearly two hundred miles. The grass has been generally good. The only timber is a few cottonwood trees and willows; the latter are in great abundance on its banks, but small. The river bottoms from four to twenty miles in width. Vegetation failing as we approach the sink, the soil becoming more sandy and sterile. The Indians we first met were better clad than

96        NEVADA

            A curious feature of this river is the number of small streams (springs?) near its banks and immediately in its bed. We tried the temperature of one on the 10th instant with a thermometer graduated to 160 degrees, to which point the mercury rose in a few seconds. From its situation forming as it does a long line of travel of the emigrant parties, this river will soon become an interesting and noted point in this now great wilderness. Portions of its immediate bottoms may be capable of cultivation; but the bare, sandy bluffs that surround or border it, produce little save bunch-grass, and no timber. Great numbers of ducks and geese are to be found in this region. A small grey duck is of excellent flavor. Provisions becoming scarce. Leaving our camp of the 24th November, . . . . we crossed a low gravelly ridge, mixed with heavy sand, for four or five miles; we then struck a level plain resembling the dry bed of a lake, extending to a low range of hills on the western side 10 to 12 miles distant; . . . . the incrustation yielded to the tread of our horses. Nothing can appear worse than the surrounding country ; the glare of the white sand, relieved only by the rugged, distant mountains, the absence of animal and vegetable life, make up a whole in the way of dreariness and desolation.

The outlet of Ogden's Lake, after running several miles toward the rim of this basin, forms a large marsh in the midst of the sand-hills. Our animals failing, we encamped among the sand-hills without grass or water.

November 25. A couple hours' ride this morning brought us to the outlet of another lake, where we encamped, having ridden twenty-five miles. The water in this stream is running but is indifferently good. The banks are 8 to 10 feet high; growth willow; sand-hills on either side. About ten miles below us this stream forms a large marsh, hidden from us by sand-hills. Walker tells me that its waters are extremely disagreeable. I found skulls of the natives killed here by Walker's party some ten years ago. The emigrants turn towards the California mountains from the sink of Ogden's River. After a noon halt and rest to our animals, we crossed and continued down the river, camping near the lake.

November 26. In a southeasterly direction nine miles, along the border of the lake. For 30 or 40 yards about its

NEVADA        97

edge in width is a thick growth of bulrushes. It is a very pretty sheet of water; various kinds of fowl in abundance. The greatest length is about 11 miles. On the east side runs a low range of burnt hills. The lake is bounded on the west side by a low range of mountains ; about midway on the western side a stream (Carson River) enters it. Slightly timbered ; probably cottonwood.

November 27. In a southern course, over a level for about three miles, then crossing a low ridge of sand and burnt rock down an open ravine, leading into a larger plain, we made camp among the sand-hills, at some Indian wells of bad water, thoroughly impregnated with sulphur. Continuing our route over low, heavy sand-hills, we rejoined Captain Fremont at our place of rendezvous, Walker's Lake.

            As soon as Fremont's party was reunited at the north end of Walker Lake, he determined to again divide it and send Kern to the south through Owen's Valley, "around the Point of the California Mountain into the head of the San Joaquin Valley. There as already described, the great Sierra comes down nearly to the plain, making a point, as in the smaller links, and making open and easy passes where there is never, or rarely, snow. As before, Walker, who was familiar with the southern part of Upper California, was made the guide of the party; and, after considering the advantages of different places, it was agreed that the place of meeting of the two parties should be at the little lake in the valley of a river called the Lake Fork of the Tulare Lake.

"With a selected party of fifteen, among whom were some of my best men, including several Delawares, I was to attempt the crossing the mountain in order to get through to Sutter's Fort be-fore the snow began to fall. At the fort I could obtain the necessary supplies for the relief of the main party. Leaving them in good order, and cheerful at the prospect of escaping from the winter into the `Beautiful California Valley,' as it was then called, we separated, and I took up my route for the river which flows into Pyramid Lake, and which on my last journey I had named Salmon Trout River, I now entered a region which hardship had made familiar to me, and I was not compelled to feel my way, but used every hour of the day to press towards the pass at the head of the river."

Fremont's route took him north, up the Walker River, which he left at the bend, thence to the Carson, which he crossed near the present site of Fort Churchill, not far from the point where his former expedition had turned back from the desert in order to cross the mountains a year before. Holding to a northerly course until he came to the Truckee River, near the present site of Wadsworth, he turned up that stream to the west, camping on the night of December 4 "on the east side of the pass in the Sierra Nevada," elated at his success in reaching the summit ahead of the winter snows. The next morning they climbed the ridge under which they camped and "at sunrise were on the crest of the divide 7,200 feet above the sea; the sky perfectly clear, and the temperature 22°. There was no snow in the pass, but already it showed apparently deep on higher ridges and mountain-tops. The emigrant road now passed here following down a fork of Bear River, which leads from the pass down into the Sacramento Valley.

NEVADA        99

Finding this a rugged way, I turned to the south and camped in a mountain meadow where the grass was fresh and green. We had made good our passage of the mountain and entered now among the grand vegetation of the California Valley."

Following roughly the present line of the Southern Pacific Railroad, Fremont reached the American River near Sutter's Fort on December 9, where Captain Sutter received them " with the same friendly hospitality which had been so delightful to us the year before." Remaining at the fort only long enough to secure supplies and fresh horses, Fremont set out to the southeast, up the valley of the San Joaquin to meet the balance of his party at the appointed rendezvous.

Meantime the party under Kern had remained at Walker Lake for ten days in order to recruit their well-nigh exhausted horses. On December 8 they again started out to the south. Water and grass were scarce and of poor quality. The cook, "in order to improve the already horrid taste given to our coffee by the bad water, added some greasewood, or other noxious weed, giving it a flavor too unsavory even for appetites as keen set as ours." Walker reported that on his route of 1843 he had followed down a valley several miles to the east with an abundance of good grass and springs. On December 12 they crossed the divide south of Sodaville, and went down into Owen's Valley. From the summit of the pass, "we obtained a fine view of the great Sierra Nevada from the far north till it faded on the distant horizon far to the south of us. This bold and rocky barrier, with its rugged peaks, separates us from the valley of California. We are to travel along its base till by its lessening height it will offer but a slight obstacle to our passage across it. To .the southeast and east of us mountain rises beyond mountain as far as the eye can see." Going down into the valley the party came to Owen's River, named for a member of Fremont's expedition, and followed it to the lake. From this point the party went over Walker's Pass into "the California Valley," its objective point. Many of its members became followers of Captain Fremont in the stirring events of the next two years in the history of California.

On crossing the divide by Walker's Pass, to the head-waters of the Kern River (so named by Fremont for Mr. Kern) the party left the Great Basin ; and the subsequent experiences of Fremont and his men belong to, and form a notable chapter in, the political history of California, in the taking of which by the United States they were important actors. Kern's party waited several days at the forks of the river, living on acorns and a little venison; and then deciding that some error had been made in the place of meeting, went on down into the valley of the San Joaquin. Meantime Fremont had reached the point on King's River, at which he expected to meet Kern's party, and spent several days in fruitless search for them. Fremont and Walker had somehow confused the two rivers when they arranged the place of rendezvous while on the shore of Walker Lake. Leaving a party under Carson and Owen to continue the search, Fremont went over to the missions of San Jose. A few days later the two parties met at the crossing of the San Joaquin River north of Tulare Lake, and all re-joined Captain Fremont at San Jose.

In point of original exploration Fremont's second expedition into the Great Basin had been the first to cross the desert south

100      NEVADA