Contents ▼▲
Front Matter A Change of Homes "Joe Bowers" The Reasons for Moving Mother's Anxiety How we were to Travel Our Movable Home Leaving Ashley Eben Jordan On the Road Eben's Predictions What about California The First Encampment Night in Camp The Town of Independence Kansas Indians Looking into the Future A Stormy Day A Lack of Fuel Making Camp in a Storm A Thunderstorm Another Company of Pikers The Stock Stray Away An Indian Village I Weary with Traveling Eben's Boasts Suffering with Thirst In Search of Water Quenching Our Thirst Making Butter A Kansas Ferry At Soldier Creek Bread Making Prairie Peas Eben as a Hunter A Herd of Buffaloes Excitement in the Camp A Feast of Buffalo Meat Curing the Meat A Wash Day Uncomfortable Traveling Ellen's Advice Indians and Mosquitoes Prairie Dogs Colonel Russell's Mishap Chimney Rock At Fort Laramie Cooking in a Fireplace Trappers, Hunters, Indians On the Trail Once More Independence Rock Arrival at Fort Bridger Toward California At Bear River The Coming of Winter Utah Indians A Dangerous Trail Sunflower Seeds and Antelope A Forest Fire The Great Salt Lake Eben as a Fisherman Grasshopper Jam A Deserted Village The Great Salt Desert A Dangerous Journey Bread and Coffee Making Breaking Camp at Midnight Approaching the Salt Desert A Plain of Salt Like A Sea of Frozen Milk Salt Dust A Bitter Disappointment Coffee instead of Water A Spring of Sweet Water The Oasis Searching for Water The Beautiful Valley Snake Indians A Scarcity of Food Springs of Hot Water In the Land of Plenty The Truckee River The Sacramento Valley The Mission of San Jose Our Home in California

Martha of California - James Otis




A Dangerous Trail

However, there was nothing to be done save attempt the dangerous passage, unless, indeed, we were willing to turn our faces toward Fort Bridger, admitting we had been beaten.

My heart was literally in my mouth when we began that terrible climb among loose rocks, over a path so narrow that it seemed, if the wheels of the wagon slipped ever so little, we would be hurled to the bottom of the canon, which is another word for a deep valley or a rift in the rocks.

The ascent was so steep that when we started no less than twelve yoke of oxen were needed to each wagon, and there was a steady, upward scrambling climb of fully two miles; therefore you can well understand how many hours we spent in making that short portion of the journey.

[Illustration] from Martha of California by James Otis

Only one wagon was sent up the trail at a time, lest through some accident it should run backward and crush whatever might be in its Path.

Until we were upon the side of the mountain where the trail pitched downward into the valley, I kept my eyes tightly closed, not daring to look at that dreadful depth into which the slightest mishap might plunge us.

When the panting oxen were brought to a standstill, the fearful labor having been performed, Ellen said that she had been so frightened she was actually exhausted, and indeed the perspiration, caused no doubt by fear, was streaming down her face when I ventured to open my eyes in order to look around.

I can conceive of nothing more horrifying than that journey, short though it was in point of distance, yet so long while one was in a state of terror as to seem almost endless.

In going down on the other side, but one yoke of cattle was hitched to each wagon, and kept there only in order to hold the tongue steady and thus steer the huge cart, while the hind wheels were chained, so that, not being able to turn, they might act as a drag to prevent us from sliding swiftly to destruction.

Father said we had traveled no more than seven miles when we had crossed that terrible mountain. There we found ourselves in a valley green with grass, where ran a small brook which was most pleasing to look upon, since it told us that we would have water in abundance. Coming upon such a spot after so much horror, caused it to appear all the more beautiful.