Continued from The
Wonders of the Yellowstone - First ArticleThe Wonders of the Yellowstone
Second Article
by Nathaniel P.
Langford
Scribner's Monthly - An
Illustrated magazine for the People; May 1871;
Conducted by J.G. Holland; Scribner & Co.; New York
THE writer, in company with General Washburn, rode back three
miles the next morning to resurvey Crater Hill and the springs
in its vicinity. The large sulphur spring was overflowing, and
boiling with greater fury than on the previous visit, the water
occasionally leaping ten feet high. On our return we followed
the trail of the train, fording the river a short distance above
the camp. Here we found the first evidence, since leaving
Boteler's, that the country had been long ago visited by
trappers and hunters. It was a bank of earth two feet high,
presenting an angle to the river ingeniously concealed by
interwoven willows, thus forming a rifle-pit from which the
occupant, without discovery, could bring down geese, ducks,
swans, pelicans, and the numerous furred animals with which the
river abounds. Near by we stopped a moment to examine another
spring of boiling mud, and then pursued our route over hills
covered with artemisia (sage brush), through ravines and small
meadows, into a dense forest of pines filled with prostrate
trunks which had piled upon each other for years to the height
of many feet. Our passage of two miles through this forest to
the bank of the lake, unmarked by any trail, was accomplished
with great difficulty, but the view which greeted us at its
close was amply compensatory. There lay the silvery bosom of the
lake, reflecting the beams of the setting sun, and stretching
away for miles, until lost in the dark foliage of the
interminable wilderness of pines surrounding it. Secluded amid
the loftiest peaks of the Rocky Mountains, 8,337 feet above the
level of the ocean, possessing strange peculiarities of form and
beauty, this watery solitude is one of the most attractive
natural objects in the world. Its southern shore, indented with
long narrow inlets, not unlike the frequent fiords of Iceland,
bears testimony to the awful upheaval and tremendous force of
the elements which resulted in its creation. The long
pine-crowned promontories, stretching into it front the base of
the hills, lend new and charming features to an aquatic scene
full of novelty and splendor. Islands of emerald hue dot its
surface, and a margin of sparkling sand forms its jeweled
setting. The winds, compressed in their passage through the
mountain gorges, lash it into a sea as terrible as the fretted
ocean, covering it with foam. But now it lay before us calm and
unruffled, save by the gentle wavelets which broke in murmurs
along the shore. Water, one of the grandest elements of scenery,
never seemed so beautiful before. It formed a fitting climax to
all the wonders we had seen, and we gazed upon it for hours,
entranced with its increasing attractions.
This lake is about twenty-five
miles long and seventy-five or eighty in circumference.
Doubtless it was once the mighty crater of an immense volcano.
It is filled with trout, some of gigantic size and peculiar
delicacy. Waterfowl, in great variety, dot in flocks its
mirrored surface. The forests surrounding it are filled with
deer, elk, mountain sheep, and lesser game; and in the mountain
fastnesses the terrible grizzly and formidable amiss make their
lairs.
In form, it was by one of our party not inaptly compared to a
"human hand with the fingers extended and spread apart as much
as possible. The main portion of the lake is the northern, which
would represent the palm of the hand. There is a large southwest
bay, nearly cut off, that would represent the thumb, while there
are about the same number of narrow southern inlets as there are
fingers on the hand." Enclosing this watery palm, is a dense
forest of pines, until now untraversed by man. It was filled
with trunks of trees in various stages of decay, which had been
prostrated by the mountain blasts, rendering it almost
impassable; but as the beach of the lake was in many places
impracticable, there was no alternative but to recede altogether
or work our way through it.
Our course for the first six miles lay along the beach, passing
a number of hot sulphur springs and lukewarm ponds. Three steam
jets, from incrusted apertures, discharged with a hissing noise
resembling the sound of steam escaping from an engine. The water
of the lake was thoroughly impregnated with sulphur, and the
edges, at a distance of twenty to fifty feet from the beach,
bubbled with springs, which, like those on the bank, discharged
through pipes of silicious sinter. These pipes, though
completely submerged, were intensely hot, while the water of the
lake was too cold for a pleasant bath.
 At
one point along the shore are scattered curiously wrought
objects of slate, varying in size from a gold dollar to a
locomotive. We gathered specimens of cups which had been
hollowed out by the elements—discs, long pestles, resemblances
to legs and feet, and many other objects which nature in her
most capricious mood had scattered over this watery solitude. So
strikingly similar were many of these configurations to works of
art, that a fanciful old trapper who had seen them told us that
we would find on the borders of the lake the drinking-cups,
stone war-clubs, and remains of the idols of an extinct race
which had once dwelt there. These were doubtless the joint
production of fire and water,—the former roughly fashioning, and
the latter beautifully polishing and depositing them where they
could be easily obtained. We gave to this locality the name of
"Curiosity Point," and added to our collection a number of
specimens from its ample store.
Ascending the plateau from the
beach, we became at once involved in all the intricacies of a
primeval wilderness of pines. Difficulties increased with our
progress through it, severely trying the amiability of every
member of the company. Our packhorses would frequently get
wedged between the trees or caught in the traps of a net-work of
fallen trunks from which labor, patience, and ingenuity were
severely taxed to extricate them. The ludicrous sometimes came
to our relief, proving that there was nothing so effectual in
allaying excitement as hearty laughter. We had a remarkable pony
in our pack-train, which, from the moment we entered the forest,
by his numerous acrobatic performances and mishaps, furnished
amusement for the company. One part of the process of travel
through this
 forest
could only be accomplished by leaping over the fallen trunks, an
exploit which, with all the spirit needful for the purpose, our
little broncho lacked the power always to perform. As a
consequence, he was frequently found with the feat half
accomplished, resting upon the midriff, his fore and hind feet
suspended over the opposite sides of some huge log. His ambition
to excel was only equaled by the patience he exhibited in
difficulty. On one occasion, while clambering a steep rocky
ascent, his head overtopping his haunches, he literally
performed three of the most wonderful backward headsprings ever
recorded in equine history. A continued experience of this kind,
after three weeks' toilsome travel, found him as sound as on the
clay of its commencement, and we dubbed him the "Little
Invulnerable."
After fifteen miles of
unvarying toil we emerged front the forest to the pebbly beach
of the lake. Here we found carnelians, agates, and chalcedony in
abundance. The lake was rolling tumultuously, its crested waves
rising at least four feet high. The scene was very beautiful and
exhilarating.
Our route the next day was
divided between the beach of the lake and the forest, and so
much impeded by fallen timber that we traveled but ten miles.
Part of this distance was along the base of a brimstone basin
which stretched from the lake to a semicircular range of
mountains. In company with Lieutenant Doane the writer ascended
this range, traversing its slopes a distance of three or four
miles, and found it covered half way to the summit with a
mixture of carbonate of lime and flowers of sulphur.
Exhalations, issuing from all parts of the surface, impregnated
the atmosphere with strong sulphurous odors. Small rivulets of
warm water, holding sulphur in solution, coursed their way down
the mountain, uniting at its foot in a considerable stream. The
surface over which we rode was strongly incrusted, and sounded
hollow beneath the tread of our horses. It was filled with vents
and fissures, surrounded with sulphur deposits nearly washed
away. This mountain exhibited the same general phenomena as
Crater Hill, though not in an equal state of activity.
Our course during the two
following days was nearly southeast, on a line parallel with the
Wind River Mountains—that remarkable range which forms so
conspicuous a feature in Mr. Irving's Astoria and
Bonneville's Adventures. The faint outline of their distant
peaks had been visible on the northeastern horizon for several
days. On our right, seventy-five miles distant, were the
towering summits of the three Tetons, the great landmarks of the
Snake River valley. The close of the day, on Sept. 6th, found us
near the southeastern arm of the lake, into which a large river
flows. The ground was low and marshy, and being unable to find a
fording-place, we were compelled to make our camp at the base of
a range of bluffs half a mile away. During the night we were
startled by the shrill and almost human scream of an amiss or
mountain lion, which sounded uncomfortably near. This terrible
animal is much larger than the panther of the eastern forests,
but greatly resembles it in shape, color, and ferocity. It is
the terror of mountaineers, and furnishes them with the staple
for many tales full of daring exploits.
Early the next morning our
commander and several others left camp in search of a ford,
while the writer and Lieutenant Doane started in the direction
of a lofty mountain, from the summit of which we expected to
obtain a satisfactory observation of the southern shore of the
lake. At the expiration of two hours we reached a point in the
ascent too precipitous for further equestrian travel.
Dismounting, we led our horses for an hour longer up the steep
side of the mountain, pausing every few moments to take breath,
until we arrived at the line of perpetual snow. Here we
unsaddled and hitched our horses, and climbed the apex to its
summit, passing over a mass of congealed snow more than thirty
feet in thickness. The ascent occupied four hours. We were more
than 600 feet above the snow line, and by barometric calculation
11,350 feet above the ocean level.
The grandeur and vast extent of
the view from this elevation beggar description. The lake and
valley surrounding it lay seemingly at our feet within jumping
distance. Beyond them we saw with great distinctness the jets of
the mud volcano and geyser. But beyond all these, stretching
away into a horizon of cloud-defined mountains, was the entire
Wind River range, revealing in the sunlight the dark recesses,
gloomy cañons, stupendous precipices, and glancing pinnacles,
which everywhere dotted its jagged slopes. Lofty peaks shot up
in gigantic spires from the main body of the range, glittering
in the sunbeams like solid crystal. The mountain on which we
stood was the most westerly peak of a range which, in
long-extended volume, swept to the southeastern horizon,
exhibiting a continuous elevation more than thirty miles in
width ; its central line broken into countless points, knobs,
glens, and defiles, all on the most colossal scale of grandeur
and magnificence. Outside of these, on either border, along the
entire range, lofty peaks rose at intervals, seemingly vying
with each other in the varied splendors they presented to the
beholder. The scene was full of majesty. The valley at the base
of this range was dotted with small lakes and cloven centrally
by the river, which, in the far distance, we could see emerging
from a cañon of immense dimensions, within the shade of which
two enormous jets of steam shot to an incredible height into the
atmosphere.
This range of mountains has a
marvelous history. As it is the loftiest, so it is the most
remarkable lateral ridge of the Rocky Range. The Indians regard
it as the "crest of the world," and among the Blackfeet there is
a fable that lie who attains its summit catches a view of the
land of souls, and beholds the happy hunting-grounds spread out
below him, brightening with the abodes of the free and generous
spirits.
In the expedition sent across
the continent by Mr. Astor, in 1811, under command of Captain
Wilson P. Hunt, that gentleman met with the first serious
obstacle to his progress at the base of this range. After
numerous efforts to scale it, he turned away and followed the
valley of the Snake, encountering the most discouraging
disasters until he arrived at Astoria.
Later, in 1833, the indomitable
Captain Bonneville was lost in this mountain labyrinth, and,
after devising various modes of escape, finally determined to
ascend the range. Selecting one of the highest peaks, in company
with one of his men, Mr. Irving says: “After much toil he
reached the summit of a lofty cliff, but it was only to behold
gigantic peaks rising all around, and towering far into the
snowy regions of the atmosphere. He soon found that he had
undertaken a tremendous task; but the pride of man is never more
obstinate than when climbing mountains. The ascent was so steep
and rugged that he and his companions were frequently obliged to
clamber on hands and knees, with their guns slung upon their
backs. Frequently, exhausted with fatigue and dripping with
perspiration, they threw themselves upon the snow, and took
handfuls of it to allay their parching thirst. At one place they
even stripped off their coats and hung them upon the bushes, and
thus lightly clad proceeded to scramble over these eternal
snows. As they ascended still higher, there were cool breezes
that refreshed and braced them, and springing with new ardor to
their task, they at length attained the summit."
As late as 1860, Captain
Raynolds, the commander of the expedition sent by Government to
explore the Yellowstone, from his camp at the base of this
formidable range writes "To our front and upon the right, the
mountains towered above us to the height of from 3,000 to 5,000
feet in the shape of bold, craggy peaks of basaltic formation,
their summits crowned with glistening snow. It was my original
desire to go from the head of Wind River to the head of the
Yellowstone, keeping on the Atlantic slope, thence down the
Yellowstone, passing the lake, and across by the Gallatin to the
Three Forks of the Missouri. Bridger said at the outset that
this would be impossible, and that it would be necessary to pass
over to the head-waters of the Columbia, and back again to the
Yellowstone. I had not previously believed that crossing the
main crest twice would be more easily accomplished than the
transit over what was in effect only a spur, but the view from
our present camp (head of Wind River) settled the question
adversely to my opinion at once. Directly across our route lies
a basaltic ridge, rising not less than 5,000 feet above us, its
walls apparently vertical, with no visible pass or even cañon.
On the opposite side of this are the head-waters of the
Yellowstone."
We were an hour and a half
making the descent of the mountain. At its base we struck the
trail of our pack-train, which we followed to a point where the
direction it had taken would have been lost, but for the
foresight of one of our companions, who had formed a tripod of
poles, one of which, longer than the others, pointed to the
right. Obeying this Indian indication, we descended the bank and
crossed the bottom to the river, fording which we followed the
trail through a beautiful pine forest, free from undergrowth and
other obstructions, the distance of a mile. Here night overtook
us, and mistaking for the trail a dark serpentine line, we soon
found ourselves clambering up the side of a steep mountain. The
conviction that we were following a band of Indians, and
possibly were near their lodges, suggested no pleasant
reflections. Alighting from our horses, we built a fire upon the
track, and, carefully examining it, could not find the
impression of a single horseshoe. Further investigation revealed
the fact that we had been for sonic time pursuing the path worn
by a gang of elk that had crossed the trail of the pack-train
since the twilight set in.
A night on the mountain,
without supper or blankets, was not to be endured. We retraced
our route to the base of the mountain, and struck out boldly in
the darkness for the beach of the lake, where we supposed our
party had camped. Our ride through fallen timber and morass
until we reached the shore was performed more skillfully than if
we had seen the obstacles which lay in our path. We reached the
lake in safety, and after a ride of two miles on the smooth
beach rounded a point from which we saw the welcome watch-fire
of our company. A loud halloo was responded to by a dozen
sympathetic voices, showing that our anxiety had been shared by
our companions. Our camp was on the eastern inlet of the south
shore of the lake, distant but four miles from the camp of the
preceding night.
Thirteen miles of toilsome
travel, zigzagged into only seven of progress, found us
encamped, at the close of the next day, two miles from the mouth
of a small stream flowing into the lake. Our party was separated
nearly all day, searching for routes. Two members, after
suffering all the early sensations incident to a conviction of
being lost in the wilderness, came into camp at a late hour,
full of glee at their good fortune. At one of their halts, after
they had dismounted to reconnoiter, a huge grizzly jumped at one
of them from the bushes, frightening his horse so that he broke
his bridle and ran away. They caught him with difficulty. Our
commander and Mr. Hauser, in company, while seeking a route for
future travel, came suddenly upon a female grizzly and two cubs,
about half a mile from camp. On their return, six of the party
started in pursuit, but Madame Bruin, meanwhile, had made good
her retreat.
Our journey of five miles, the
next day, was accomplished with great difficulty and annoyance.
Almost the entire distance was through a forest piled full of
fallen trunks. Traveling was but another name for scrambling ;
and as man is at times the least amiable of animals, our tempers
frequently displayed alarming activity, not only towards the
patient creatures laden with our stores, but towards each other.
Once, while involved in the reticulated meshes of a vast net of
branches and tree-tops, each man, with varied expletive
emphasis, clamorously insisting upon a particular mode of
extrication, a member of the party, who was always jolly,
restored us to instant good-humor by repeating, in theatrical
tone and manner, those beautiful lines from Childe Harold:–
"There is a
pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore."
Our “Little Invulnerable," too, was the
unconscious cause of many bursts of laughter, which, like the
appreciative plaudits of an audience, came in at the right time.
We were glad, however, at an early hour in the afternoon, to
pitch our tent on one of the small tributaries of Snake
River—three miles distant from the lake. In the search made by
every member of the party for routes, our company was
unavoidably much scattered. Our first care being for the
pack-train, when it came up we missed therefrom the little
animal whose frequent mishaps had been to us all a source of so
much amusement. An instant search was instituted, and at a late
hour we found him three miles from camp. He saluted us with a
low neigh, and with hurried pace soon rejoined his companions.
One of our comrades (the Hon. Truman C. Everts, late U. S.
Assessor of Montana) had failed to come up with the rest of the
company; but as this was a common circumstance, we gave it
little heed until the lateness of the hour convinced us he had
lost his way. We increased our fire and fired our guns, as
signals; but all to no purpose. It had been a sort of tacit
agreement among us only the night before, that should any one
get parted from the company, he would at once go to the
south-west arm of the lake (that being our objective point) and
await there the arrival of the train. The belief that we should
find our companion there, hastened us into the commission of an
error, which was designed by all as a measure of speedy relief.
If we had not continued our journey with all possible expedition
towards the point indicated, Mr. Everts would probably have
rejoined us within three or four days, as he has informed us
since that he visited our camp, but the falling foliage of the
pines had entirely obliterated our departing trail.
The narrative of this
gentleman, of thirty-seven days spent in this terrible
wilderness, will furnish a chapter in the history of human
endurance, exposure, and escape as incredible as it must be
painfully instructive and entertaining.
Seven miles of struggling took
us through the timber to another inlet, five miles farther on
our way. No sign of our missing comrade. We built a large fire
on a commanding ridge, and ascended a mountain overlooking the
north and west shores of the lake, where we kindled another
fire, which could be seen at a great distance. Eight hundred
feet above Yellowstone Lake, nestled in a dark mountain glen, we
found two small lakes, completely environed with frightful
masses of basalt and brown lava, seemingly thrown up and
scattered by some terrible convulsion. Two of our company took
the backward trail at night, searching for Mr. Everts and our
anxieties were greatly increased lest they too should meet with
some disaster.
We rose early the next morning,
after passing a sleepless night. While at breakfast, our two
companions came in. They had followed the beach to a point east
of our camp of two days before, and found no trace of Mr. Everts.
More than ever assured that we should find hint at the west arm
of the lake, we struck out for that point,—three of our party,
Mr. Hauser, Lieut. Doane, and myself, in advance, to explore a
route for the train and make all possible search by the way. We
posted notices on the trees to indicate the route we had taken,
and made caches of provisions at several points. Late in the
afternoon, at the close of a fatiguing day's travel, mostly
through forest, we arrived at our objective point, and were
greatly distressed to find there no trace of our lost friend.
While gathered around our camp-fire in the evening, devising a
plan for more systematic search, our ears were saluted with a
screech so terribly human, that, for a moment supposing it to be
our missing comrade, we hallooed in response, and would have
started to his relief but that a minatory growl warned us of the
near approach of a mountain lion.
Three parties, of two each,
struck out the next morning in different directions, in pursuit
of our companion. One followed the lake shore; one the back
trail through the forest; and the third, southerly from the lake
to a large brown mountain. The party following the lake shore
returned to camp early in the afternoon, with the report that
they had seen Indians. The story of their adventures, written by
one of them, runs thus: "He and his companion having penetrated
several miles through the inhospitable wilds of that region,
dismounted and unsaddled their horses. Mr. T. commenced to fish,
and prepare them a little dinner, while Mr. S. went ahead with
his gun, to continue the search on foot. The former had just
caught four fishes, and kindled a fire, when the latter returned
in some haste, but perfectly cool and self-possessed, and stated
that there were six Indians on a point jutting out into the
lake, about a mile distant. They concluded that neither had a
mouth for fish, which they left sweltering in the noon-day sun,
and, saddling their horses, they advanced towards the foe. Mr.
S. saw them distinctly; but Mr. T. could not, probably because
he was somewhat nearsighted. Finally, the former gentleman saw
them flitting, phantom-like, among the rocks and trees, at which
juncture the party retired to camp in platoons, and in good
order, at the rate of a mile in every three minutes." This tribe
of Indians, being one of the curiosities of the expedition, and
hitherto unknown, was named after the person who discovered it.
Both of the other parties
returned, after a fruitless search. In their trip to the brown
mountain, the two who went south crossed the main range of the
Rocky Mountains through a very low pass, which on the western
side terminated in a brimstone basin containing forty or fifty
sulphur and mud springs, and a large number of craters, from
which issued jets of vapor. This slope of the mountain was
covered with a hollow incrustation through which the water from
the springs, percolating in different channels, had spread out
over the little patches of soil with which they came in
 contact,
covering them with bright green verdure. In crossing one of
these the horse of one of the party broke through to his
haunches, and being extricated, he plunged more deeply into
another trap, throwing headlong his rider, whose arm as he fell
seas thrust violently through the treacherous surface into the
scalding morass, from complete submersion in which both man and
beast were with great difficulty saved.
At the base of the brown
mountain the party saw a lake of considerable size, which they
believed to be the head-waters of Snake River—the Lewis fork of
the Columbia. They could not approach it nearer than a mile, on
account of the treacherous character of the soil.
The other party were absent two
days. They had visited all the camps of the six preceding days,
following the trail between them, mostly obliterated by the
falling foliage of the pines, with great difficulty, but without
discovering the slightest indication that Mr. Everts had come
upon it. On full consultation we came to the conclusion that he
had either been shot front his horse by an Indian, or had
returned down the Yellowstone, or struck out upon some of the
head-waters of Snake River, with the intention of following it
to the settlements. It was agreed that see should pursue the
search three clays longer from this point before renewing our
journey. Snow began to fall early in the evening. Through the
hazy atmosphere we beheld, on the shore of the inlet opposite
our camp, the steam ascending in jets from more than fifty
craters, giving it much the appearance of a New England factory
village.
Snow continued to fall all night and the next day, and we made
our camp as comfortable as possible. At night the snow was more
than two feet deep. It turned to rain the following morning.
Showers, alternated with sunshine through the day, removed the
snow rapidly. We were now so completely environed by forest, and
so far away from any recognized trail, that all our fear of
molestation by Indians, or of danger from any other cause, was
thoroughly dissipated. With true Falstaffian philosophy we felt
that we could take our ease in our inn, and the figure one of us
presented has been graphically delineated by our artist upon the
spot.
 We made a circuit round the
head of the inlet to the springs we had seen, the next day. They
were widely different from any we had visited before. In all
they numbered 150, and were scattered along the lake shore about
a mile, at a distance of 100 yards from the beach. Those
farthest inland resembled boiling mud of various degrees of
consistency, some not thicker than paint, others so dense that
as they boiled over, the contents piled into heaps, which
gradually spread over the ground, forming an extensive vitrified
surface. This sediment varies in color—that flowing from some of
the apertures being white as chalk, that from others of a
delicate lavender hue, and front others, of a brilliant pink
color. The following are the results of analyses of the various
specimens which we gathered, by Professor Augustus Steitz., of
Montana:—
| |
White sediment. |
Lavender sediment |
Pink sediment |
|
| |
Silica |
42.2 |
Silica |
28.2 |
Silica |
32.6 |
|
| |
Magnesia |
33.4 |
Alumina |
58.6 |
Alumina |
52.4 |
|
| |
Lime |
17.8 |
Boracic acid |
3.2 |
Oxide of Calcium |
8.3 |
|
| |
Alkalies |
6.6 |
Oxide of iron |
0.6 |
Soda and potassa |
4.2 |
|
| |
|
|
Oxide of calcium |
4.2 |
Water and loss |
2.5 |
|
| |
|
|
Water and loss |
5.2 |
|
|
|
| |
|
100
|
|
100
|
|
100
|
|
In close proximity- to these
springs are others of pure, odorless water. Near the shore were
several boiling springs, around which the sedimentary increment
had formed into mounds of various sizes and heights. The deposit
around one of these springs resembles a miniature forest of
pines.
The most remarkable springs in
this group, six or seven in number, are of pure ultramarine
hue—very large, and wonderfully transparent. The largest is
forty feet wide by seventy feet long. The sides are
funnel-shaped, converging regularly to the depth of forty feet,
where they present a dark and apparently unfathomable chasm.
From the surface to this opening the sides of the funnel are
furrowed and sinuous, coated with a white sediment, which
contrasts vividly with the dark orifice at its base.
This group of springs exhibit
in their deposits a great variety of shades and colors—no two of
them being alike. Their constant overflow has fashioned a
concrete bank of commingled tufa, eight feet in height and a
quarter of a mile in length, on the margin of the lake. The
waves have worn this bank into large caverns, which respond in
hollow murmurs to their fierce assaults. Between the springs are
numerous vents and craters, from which heated vapor is
constantly rising. Along the edge of the water, and ten or
twenty feet from shore, many springs are bubbling, none of which
seem to be strongly impregnated with sulphur. The beach, for a
mile or more, is strewn with fragments of sinter of various
colors, which have been worn by the waves into many fantastic
forms.
The five days during which we camped at this locality were
occupied by every possible effort to find our missing friend,
but the labors of each day only served to increase our fears for
his safety. One hope, that of meeting him at Virginia City, was
still indulged; but opposed to this were many painful
conjectures as to his possible fate—not the least prevalent of
which was the one that he might have been shot from an ambush by
an Indian arrow. Our provisions were rapidly diminishing, and
our longer stay gave promise of unfavorable results. The force
of circumstances obliged us to adopt the gloomy alternative of
moving forward the next day, leaving one of our own party and
two of the cavalrymen to prosecute a further search.
The loss of our comrade and friend was to us all a source of
much unhappy reflection, and the hope of finding him so entirely
absorbed our attention that we had little curiosity to examine,
and so escaped very many of the wonders of this region, which we
should otherwise have seen. In our constant passing to and fro
in different directions through the forest, along the lake, and
over the surrounding mountains, we had glances of objects which,
had we been free from a heavy charge, it would have been
pleasant to visit and describe. These, however, are reserved for
future investigation.
The plan of our route led us in a northwesterly direction from
the lake towards the head-waters of the Madison. We traveled
through a dense pine forest, unmarked by trails and encumbered
by fallen timber for most of the distance. The close of the
first day's travel found us only twelve miles from the lake,
still in the midst of the deep snow, with no place to pitch our
tent, and each man seeking, unsuccessfully, a dry spot whereon
to spread his blankets, under the shelter of the trees. The next
day we reached the east bank of the Fire Hole River, the largest
tributary of the Madison, down which we traveled, passing
several cascades, many craters and boiling springs, to a large
basin, two miles above the point of the union of the Fire Hole
and Burnt Hole Rivers.
We bade adieu to Yellowstone
Lake, surfeited with the wonders we had seen, and in the belief
that the interesting portion of our journey was over. The desire
for home had superseded all thought of further exploration. We
had seen the greatest wonders on the continent, and were
convinced that there was not on the globe another region where,
within the same limits, nature had crowded so much of grandeur
and majesty, with so much of novelty and wonder. Our only care
was to return home as rapidly as possible. Three days of active
travel from the head-waters of the Madison, would find us among
the settlers in the beautiful lower valley of that picturesque
river, and within twelve miles of Virginia City, where we hoped
to meet with Mr. Everts, and realize afresh that "all is well
that ends well."
Judge, then, what must have been our astonishment, as we entered
the basin at midafternoon of our second day's travel, to see in
the clear sunlight, at no great distance, an immense volume of
clear, sparkling water projected into the air to the height of
one hundred and twenty-five feet. "Geysers! geysers!" exclaimed
one of our company, and, spurring our jaded horses, we soon
gathered around this wonderful phenomenon. It was indeed a
perfect geyser. The aperture through which the jet was projected
was an irregular oval, three feet by seven in diameter. The
margin of sinter was curiously piled up, and the exterior crust
was filled with little hollows full of water, in which were
small globules of sediment, some having gathered around bits of
wood and other nuclei. This geyser is elevated thirty feet above
the level of the surrounding plain, and the crater rises five or
six feet above the mound. It spouted at regular intervals nine
times during our stay, the columns of boiling water being thrown
from ninety to one hundred and twenty-five feet at each
discharge, which lasted from fifteen to twenty minutes. We gave
it the name of "Old Faithful."
In our journey down the valley, looking down through a crevice
in the crust upon which we were traveling, we discovered a
stream of hot water of considerable size, running nearly at
right angles with and away from the Fire Hole River.
On the summit of a cone, twenty feet high, was a boiling spring,
seven feet in diameter, surrounded with beautiful incrustations,
on the slope of which we gathered twigs and pine-tree cones,
encased in a silicious crust a quarter of an inch in thickness.
But all of the curiosities of this basin sink into
insignificance in comparison with the geysers. We saw, during
our brief stay of but twenty-two hours, twelve in action. Six of
these, from vents varying from three to five feet in diameter,
threw water to the height of from fifteen to twenty-five feet,
but in the presence of others of immense dimensions these soon
ceased to attract attention. One, which we named "The Fan," has
an orifice which discharges two radiating jets of water to the
height of sixty feet, the falling drops and spray resembling a
feather fan. It is very beautiful. Its eruptions are very
frequent, lasting usually from ten to thirty minutes. A vent
connected with it, about forty feet distant, expels dense masses
of vapor fifty or sixty feet high, accompanied by loud, sharp
reports, during the time the geyser is in action.
"The Grotto” was so named from its singular crater of vitrified
sinter, full of large, sinuous apertures. Through one of these,
on our first visit, one of our company crawled to the
discharging orifice; and when, a few hours afterwards, he saw a
volume of boiling water, four feet in diameter, shooting through
it to the height of sixty feet, and a scalding stream of two
hundred inches flowing from the aperture he had entered a short
time before, he concluded he had narrowly escaped being
summarily cooked. The discharge of this geyser continued for
nearly half an hour.
 “The Castle," situated on the
summit of an incrusted mound, has a turreted crater through
which a large volume of water is expelled at intervals of two or
three hours to the height of fifty feet, from a discharging
orifice about three feet in diameter. The architectural features
of the silicious sinter surrounding it, which is very massive
and compact, indicating that at some former period the flow of
water must have been much greater than at present, suggested its
name. A vent near it is constantly discharging a large stream of
boiling water, and when the geyser is in action the water in
this vent boils and bubbles with great fierceness.
"The Giant" has a rugged
crater, ten feet in diameter on the outsde, with an irregular
orifice five or six feet in diameter. It discharges a vast body
of water, and the only time we saw it in eruption the flow of
water in a column five feet in diameter, and one hundred and
forty feet in vertical height, continued uninterruptedly for
nearly three hours. The crater resembles a miniature model of
the Coliseum.
Our search for new wonders
leading us across the Fire Hole River, we ascended a gentle
incrusted slope, and came suddenly upon a large oval aperture
with scalloped edges, the diameters of which were eighteen and
twenty-five feet, the sides corrugated and covered with a
grayish-white silicious deposit, which was distinctly visible at
the depth of one hundred feet below the surface. No water could
be discovered, but we could distinctly hear it gurgling and
boiling at a great distance below. Suddenly it began to rise,
boiling and spluttering, and sending out huge masses of steam,
causing a general stampede of our company, driving us some
distance from our point of observation. When within about forty
feet of the surface it became stationary, and we returned to
look down upon it. It was foaming and surging at a terrible
rate, occasionally emitting small jets of hot water nearly to
the mouth of the orifice. All at once it seemed seized with a
fearful spasm, and rose with incredible rapidity, hardly
affording us time to flee to a safe distance, when it burst from
the orifice with terrific momentum, rising in a column the full
size of this immense aperture to the height of sixty feet; and
through and out of the apex of this vast aqueous mass, five or
six lesser jets or round columns of water, varying in size front
six to fifteen inches in diameter, were projected to the
marvellous height of two hundred and fifty feet. These lesser
jets, so much higher than the main column, and shooting through
it, doubtless proceed from auxiliary pipes leading into the
principal orifice near the bottom, where the explosive force is
greater. If the theory that water by constant boiling becomes
explosive when freed from air be true, this theory rationally
accounts for all irregularities in the eruptions of the geysers.
This grand eruption continued for twenty minutes, and was the
most magnificent sight we ever witnessed. We were standing on
the side of the geyser nearest the sun, the gleams of which
filled the sparkling column of water and spray with myriads of
rainbows, whose arches were constantly changing,—dipping and
fluttering hither and thither, and disappearing only to be
succeeded by others, again and again, amid the aqueous column,
while the minute globules into which the spent jets were
diffused when falling sparkled like a shower of diamonds, and
around every shadow which the denser clouds of vapor,
interrupting the sun's rays, cast upon the column, could be seen
a luminous circle radiant with all the colors of the prism, and
resembling the halo of glory represented in paintings as
encircling the head of Divinity. All that we had previously
witnessed seemed tame in comparison with the perfect grandeur
and beauty of this display. Two of 'these wonderful eruptions
occurred during the twenty-two hours we remained in the valley.
This geyser we named "The Giantess."
A hundred yards distant front
The Giantess was a silicious cone, very symmetrical but slightly
corrugated upon its exterior surface, three feet in height and
five feet in diameter at its base, and having an oval orifice
twenty-four by thirty-six and one-half inches in diameter, with
scalloped edges. Not one of our company supposed that it was a
 geyser;
and among so many wonders it had almost escaped notice. While we
were at breakfast upon the morning of our departure a column of
water, entirely filling the crater, shot from it, which, by
accurate triangular measurement, we found to be two hundred and
nineteen feet in height. The stream did not deflect more than
four or five degrees from a vertical line, and the eruption
lasted eighteen minutes. We named it “The Beehive."
How many more geysers there are
in this locality it would be impossible to conjecture. Our
waning stores admonished us of the necessity for a hurried
departure, and we reluctantly left this remarkable region less
than half explored. In this basin, which is about two milers in
length and one mile in width, more than a thousand pipes or
wells rise to the surface, varying in diameter from two to one
hundred and twenty feet, the water in which varies in
temperature from 140° to the boiling-point, upwards of a hundred
of which give evidence, by the calcareous and silicious deposits
surrounding them, that they are geysers; and to an appearances
they are as likely to be as any we saw in action.
The sides of these wells were
covered with silicious incrustations, and were funnel-shaped ;
and in many of the larger ones gradually converged for a
distance of from twenty to fifty feet from the edge, below which
point the apertures enlarged laterally in all directions like a
jug below the neck, and were apparently unfathomable. None of
the springs in this locality appear to be impregnated with
sulphur. In this basin there are to be found no mud springs, of
which we discovered so many in the valley of the Yellowstone;
and we found but one spring of cold water.
This entire country is
seemingly under a constant and active internal pressure from
volcanic forces, which seek relief through the numberless
springs, jets, volcanoes, and geysers exhibited on its surface,
and which, but for these vents, might burst forth in one
terrific eruption and form a volcano of vast dimensions. It is
undoubtedly true that many of the objects we saw were of recent
formation, and that many of the extinguished craters recently
ceased their condition of activity. They are constantly breaking
forth, often assuming new forms, and attesting to the active
presence of volcanic force.
A mountaineer, who visited a
portion of this region a year ago, found at one place a small
volcano which was constantly overflowing with liquid sulphur and
lava, and emitting smoke; showing that the genuine volcanic
elements were there, and needed but the concentration of the
forces now dissipated through thousands of vents to present a
spectacle of grandeur surpassing that of Vesuvius or Ætna.
The geyser is a new and,
perhaps, the most remarkable feature in our scenery and physical
history. It is found in no other countries but Iceland and
Thibet. The geysers of the country last named are inconsiderable
when compared with either those of Iceland, or the Fire Hole or
Madison Basin; and those of Iceland, even, dwindle into
insignificance by the side of those of the Madison. Until the
discovery of the Madison geysers there were but two of any note
known to the world–the Great Geyser and the Strokr of Iceland.
The phenomena presented by these have been sufficient at various
periods during the past century to invite the personal
investigation of some of the most distinguished of European
savans. Von Troil, Stanley, Ohlsen, Hooker, MacKensie, and, at a
later day, Bunsen, have visited Iceland for the purpose of
witnessing these aqueous eruptions, and forming some
satisfactory conclusion relative to the causes in which they
originate.
The theory published by Sir George MacKenzie, that the outbursts
were produced by pressure on the air contained in cavernous
recesses under ground, for many years received the sanction of
the scientific world. The periods intervening between the
eruptions of the Great Geyser of Iceland have been very
irregular until within the past forty or fifty years, since when
it has generally projected a small jet to the height of twenty
feet every two hours, and a large one to the height of eighty
feet every six hours. MacKenzie's theory was that there were two
subterranean cavities connected with the main pipe, one much
deeper and larger than the other, which rapidly filled with
water after each eruption, and that the pressure of the vapors
upon them produced these periodic explosions.
Ingenious as this theory
appeared to be, it was dissipated by the experiments made upon
water by M. Bonny, of Ghent. He discovered that water long
boiled became more and more free from air, by which its
molecular cohesion is so greatly increased, and that, when it is
exposed to a heat sufficient to overcome the force of cohesion,
the production of steam is so instantaneous and so considerable
as to cause explosion. Bunsen ascribes the eruption of the
geysers to this cause. He found the water at the buttons of the
well of the Great Geyser to be of a constantly increasing
temperature up to the moment of an eruption. On one occasion it
was as high as 261° Fahrenheit. His idea is that on reaching
some unknown point above that temperature ebullition takes
place, vapor is suddenly generated in enormous quantities, and
an eruption of the superior column of water is the consequence.
The geysers of the Madison exhibit precisely the same physical
features, and, doubtless, originate in the same causes. They are
surrounded too, as are those of Iceland, by innumerable springs
of hot water. The bursting of a column into millions of
particles resembles an explosion more than a mere eruption ; and
the vast clouds of vapor which enshroud them and mingle with
them in their ascent sometimes give an appearance of bulk to the
upper part of the columns much greater than their real
magnitude.
The water of the Madison
geysers, like that of the geysers of Iceland, appears perfectly
pure, and, doubtless, could be used for cooking or drinking. We
had not the means of analyzing it on the spot. The sinter was
both carboniferous and silicious, the latter characteristic
predominating, but both prevailing sufficiently to have produced
large incrusted mounds, and numerous illustrations of
petrifaction in various stages of progress. All this, where such
immense volumes of water are being constantly ejected, could be
effected with a moderate infusion of silica or soda. Dr. Black
gives the following result of an analysis of a quantity of
10,000 grains (about one-sixth of a gallon) of water from the
Great Geyser of Iceland:–
Soda
.................................0.95
Alumina.............................0.40
Silica..................................5.40
Muriate of soda..................2.46
Dry sulphate of soda..........1.46
Total…………………….10.75
That the same elements are held in solution
in the waters of the Madison geysers, we have abundant proof in
the vast incrusted field by which they are surrounded. They are
but a reproduction, upon a much grander scale, of the phenomena
of Iceland.
A wider field for the
investigation of the chemist than that presented by the geysers
may be found in the many-tinted springs of boiling mud and the
mud volcano. These were objects of the greatest interest to
Humboldt, who devotes to a description of them one of the most
fascinating chapters of Cosmos. It would be rash in us to
speculate where that great man hesitated. We can only say that
the field is open for exploration—illimitable in resource, grand
in extent, wonderful in variety, in a climate favored of Heaven,
and amid scenery' the most stupendous on the continent.
By means of the Northern
Pacific Railroad, which will doubtless be completed within the
next three years, the traveler will be able to make the trip to
Montana from the Atlantic seaboard in three days, and thousands
of tourists will be attracted to both Montana and Wyoming in
order to behold with their own eyes the wonders here described.
Besides these marvels of the Upper Yellowstone, one may look
upon the strange scenery of the lower valley of that great
river, the Great Falls of the Missouri, the grotesque groups of
eroded rocks below Fort Benton, the beautiful cañon of the
Prickly Pear, and the stupendous architecture of the vast chains
and spurs of mountains which everywhere traverse that
picturesque and beautiful country. |
