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continued from
The Washburn
Yellowstone Expedition, No.1
The Washburn
Yellowstone Expedition
No.2
by Walter Trumball
Overland Monthly; May 1871, San Francisco
AFTER remaining one day in the vicinity of the first
geyser, we forded the Yellowstone just above our camp, and
shaped our course for the lake. At the ford the river was quite
wide, and a narrow bench of rock rose up from the bottom,
stretching from bank to bank. On this bench the water was about
three feet deep, but on either side of it was a foot or two
deeper. In fording the stream, each man led a pack animal. All
did very well while they kept upon the bench. Occasionally some
one would get into deeper water, and become drenched, but he had
the benefit of encouraging cheers from those who had crossed in
safety, and who stood ready to welcome him upon the anticipated
shore.
From the ford to the lake—a
distance of about ten miles—our course was generally through
timber, much of which had been blown down by strong winds,
rendering traveling exceedingly tedious and difficult. In open
places near the river we were continually meeting with
mud-springs, some of them of considerable magnitude. At one
point in the river we discovered a short series of rapids,
between high, rocky banks; the one on the east side rising to
the proportion of a bluff. After fording a stream, about
one-third the size of the Yellowstone, emptying into the lake,
we camped on the edge of the timber, about a hundred yards from
the lake-shore.
Lake Yellowstone is a lonely,
but lovely inland sea, everywhere surrounded by "forests
primeval," and nestled in the bosom of the Rocky Mountains. Some
trappers have insisted that its waters ran both to the Atlantic
and the Pacific, but such is not the case. The summit of the
main chain, however, approaches within half a mile of its south
shore, and in places the divide is very little above the lake.
Its shape resembles the broad hand of an honest German, who has
had his forefinger and the two adjoining shot off at the second
joint, while fighting for glory and Emperor William. The palm of
the hand represents the main body, or north part, of the lake.
The fingers and thumb, spread to their utmost extent — the thumb
and little finger being much the longest—represent inlets
indenting the south shore, and stretching inland, as if to wash
away the Rocky Mountains. Between these inlets project high,
rocky promontories, covered with dense timber. The largest
stream flows into the lake at its upper end, or the extreme
south-east corner. This stream is really the Yellowstone River,
which, for a distance of thirty miles, has an average width of
over fifteen miles. This enlargement constitutes the lake,
which, after being augmented by several smaller streams, narrows
down to the width of an eighth of a mile, and flows northward
toward the great falls.
The mood of the lake is ever
changing; the character of its shore is ever varying. At one
moment, it is placid and glassy as a calm summer's sea; at the
next, "it breaks into dimples, and laughs in the sun." Half an
hour later, beneath a stormy sky, its waters may be broken and
lashed into an angry and dangerous sea, like the short, choppy
waves which rise in storms on Lake Erie and Lake Michigan. Where
we first saw it, it had a glittering beach of gray and
rock-crystal sand, but as we continued around it, we found rocky
and muddy shores, gravel beaches—on which several varieties of
chalcedony were profusely scattered —and hot springs in
abundance. Near the south-east end of the lake is the highest
peak in the vicinity. It is steep and barren, and from the
lake-shore appears to taper to a point. On the south side is a
precipice, nearly a thousand feet high. Two of the party
ascended it. It took them all of one day to make the trip and
return. About two-thirds of the way up they were obliged to
leave their horses, and continue the ascent on foot. The
altitude of the mountain, as obtained by observations with the
barometer and thermometer, was 11,163 feet. Much snow was found
before reaching the summit. A fine view of the surrounding
country, and a good idea of the shape of the lake, were
obtained. Immense steam-jets were seen to the south; but as our
time was becoming somewhat limited, we did not remain to visit
them. Several barometrical calculations were made; and we
determined the height of the lake to be 8,300 feet.
On the south side of the lake
we found dense timber, much of which was fallen. Through it were
no trails, and traveling was exceedingly difficult. Many large
trees had fallen, with their branches clear out into the lake,
rendering it very hard to follow the lake-shore. We, however,
kept the shore as much as possible, except when we cut across
the bases of the promontories; though on one occasion we crossed
a low divide in the main chain, and camped on the head-waters of
Snake River, without finding it out for a day or two afterward.
We thought the brook on which we were camped circled around, and
ran into the lake.
While straggling irregularly
through the dense timber which covers the main chain, one of the
party, Mr. Everts, became separated from the rest of us; but his
disappearance was unnoticed until we reached a small strip of
open country on the head- waters of Snake River. Leaving the
party for a short time, either in pursuit of game or for the
purpose of viewing the country, was not an unusual occurrence
with members of the expedition; and consequently little was
thought of Mr. Everts' absence. We, however, at once camped, and
waited for him to catch up.
One of the pack animals was
missing; and the two packers, together with one of the party,
went back on the trail to find him, hoping also to meet Mr.
Everts, and to save him all trouble by guiding him into camp.
The lost pack-horse was an extraordinary animal—a beautiful,
golden stallion of vast proportions, some thought as much as
thirteen hands high. Some people would have called him of
buckskin color, but he was of that intensely brilliant hue which
buckskin assumes when wet and in the shade. He was one of the
animals which, in fording the Yellowstone, managed to flounder
into deep water and saturate his pack; and whenever we waded
through a slough, he was sure to be the horse that got stalled.
In such cases he invariably waited until the packers, with their
patience severely tried, went back and lifted him out by main
force. On this particular occasion, he had proven himself the
acrobat of the pack-train by turning a number of somersaults
backward, down the hill, pack and all; and when found, was
astride a log lengthwise, his feet just touching on either side,
but either unable to extricate himself, or too proud and patient
to make an effort to do so. He consequently very resignedly
contemplated his position and surroundings. He was too proud and
spirited to betray any emotion, though his situation was
undoubtedly distasteful to his feelings. In war, he might have
been a lion; in peace, he was certainly a lamb. He was just the
kind of a horse that, in a race, would have driven every thing
else before him. The pedigree of the beast has not been
authentically preserved, but there is good reason to believe
that his clam was Rosinante, while he was sired by Baalbec, the
horse Mark Twain rode through the Holy Land. He was dubbed the
"Yellowstone Wonder."
Toward evening Mr. Everts'
disappearance excited grave apprehensions. It would have been
extremely difficult for any one to have followed our trail
through the dense forests and over the fallen timber. Besides,
Mr. Everts was quite near-sighted. Every endeavor was made to
attract his attention, by firing guns and building fires on
prominent points near the camp. Failing to find him, we changed
our camp to the lake-shore, and remained for more than a week in
the immediate vicinity, searching vigilantly for him. We
expected to find him somewhere on the south-west shore of the
lake, as at the time he was lost it was generally understood we
would that evening camp on the southwestern arm of the lake.
On the afternoon of September
13th, when Mr. Everts had been missing four days, there were
slight indications of snow, which indications continued for two
days, by which time it was two feet deep. The weather was not
very cold, and by means of the tent we got along quite
comfortably; but we feared that the storm would prove fatal to
our poor, lost friend. Conjectures as to his probable fate were
numberless, but futile. Our chief hope lay in the fact of his
being well mounted, and the hope that, failing to find us on the
second day, he had started for the settlements; in which case he
might possibly be beyond the region of the snow-storm. When lost
he was without provisions, but had with him a needle-gun. We
continued our efforts until nearly out of provisions; and then,
leaving three persons to still look for him, the rest of us
turned toward the settlements.
Immediately on our arrival, two
old mountaineers were furnished with six weeks' provisions, and
offered a large reward if they succeeded in finding him, or
should bring back his body. They found him, quite exhausted, and
nearly famished, about sixty miles from Bozeman. He was trying
to follow back on the route by which we ascended the
Yellowstone. It seems that his horse got away from him the day
after he left us. His gun was made fast to the saddle, and his
revolver was in his cantinas; so that he had no means of
providing himself with food. During the snow-storm he got along
by building a shelter of pine boughs over a warm spring. For
forty days he lived on roots, and two minnows, which he caught
in his hat. He tried to eat grasshoppers, but he found their
jumping propensities were not confined to a living state; for he
had no sooner swallowed one than it cleared his throat with a
bound. It was weeks after his rescue before he fully recovered
his strength. His escape from a terrible death was almost
marvelous.
Our last camp on the lake was
near the extremity of the south-west arm. Close by us was a
collection of warm springs—the largest, most numerous, varied,
and peculiar which we had then discovered. Several were from
fifty to eighty feet in length, by from twenty to fifty in
width. The water was generally clear, and of great depth. All
were hot, but of different temperatures. Around the larger ones
the ground was marshy, and largely composed of a reddish earth,
which looked like wet brick-dust. A number of hot streams flowed
from these springs into the lake. The lake-shore was covered
with a subsilica, broken into small pieces, and washed smooth by
the action of the waves. Many of these pieces were pure and
white as alabaster. Many of the smaller springs were
mud-springs, boiling and spluttering incessantly. These were
generally a few feet below the surface, and encased in clay
banks. They emitted a strong, sulphurous smell, which rendered a
close examination rather disagreeable. Several springs were in
the solid rock, within a few feet of the lake-shore. Some of
them extended far out underneath the lake; with which, however,
they had no connection. The lake water was quite cold, and that
of these springs exceedingly hot. They were remarkably clear,
and the eye could penetrate a hundred feet into their depths,
which to the human vision appeared bottomless. A gentleman was
fishing from one of the narrow isthmuses, or shelves of rock,
which divided one of these hot springs from the lake, when, in
swinging a trout ashore, it accidentally got off the hook and
fell into the spring. For a moment it darted about with
wonderful rapidity, as if seeking an outlet. Then it came to the
top, dead, and literally boiled. It died within a minute of the
time it fell into the spring.
On the 17th of September, the
party left Lake Yellowstone for home, by way of the Madison
River. Our immediate objective point was a small lake, in which
the Fire Hole River, the main branch of the Madison, has its
source. This was supposed to be about twelve miles west of us.
In crossing the divide we found that the snow-storm had been
general; about two feet of snow still remaining. We failed to
find the lake, but finally camped in the snow, on a small stream
running to the south, probably into the lake. The mountains were
everywhere thickly timbered. Nearly all the trees had great
lumps, like hornets'-nests, upon their trunks. They were
generally large, but scraggy and irregular, and wholly unlike
the tall, straight pines of the Sierras. It is said that nothing
was created in vain; but it was a long time before I could
conceive the utility of a forest so vast in a locality so remote
and inaccessible. It was suggested to me by a comrade that the
trees protected the snow, preventing it from all melting at once
during the first warm days of spring, and thereby producing a
freshet destructive of every thing in its wake. I can think of
no other reason for their creation.
The following day we traveled
northwest, and soon reached the Fire Hole River. After passing
by a fine cascade —which we stopped but a short time to
examine—we forded the river, and camped about noon in the midst
of the most wonderful geysers yet discovered in any country. The
basin in which they were situated was over two miles long, and
about a mile wide. It was nearly destitute of vegetation, but
there were a few clumps of trees scattered through it, and in
one place we found grass enough for our horses. The basin was
chiefly on the west side of the river, but there was a narrow
strip, with an average width of three hundred yards, on the east
side, which was literally alive with geysers and steam-jets. We
remained two days in this wonderful basin. The most prominent
geysers which we saw in operation we named as follows : "Old
Faithful," which was farthest up the river on the western bank;
"The Castle," which was a third of a mile below "Old Faithful; "
"The Giant," which was a half- mile below "The Castle; " "The
Grotto," a short distance below "The Giant;" then crossing the
river, lowest down was the "Fantail," and much higher up, nearly
opposite "Old Faithful," were "The Giantess" and "Beehive."
All around the geysers the
ground was covered with incrustations and subsilica; and
immediately about the vent of most of them the incrustations
rose several feet above the surrounding level, assuming
grotesque and fanciful shapes.
"Old Faithful" was the first
geyser we saw throwing up a column of water. It was named on
account of its almost constant action. It did not intermit for
more than an hour at any time during our stay. It had a vent
five feet by three, and projected a solid column of water to a
height of eighty or ninety feet. All around it were found
pebbles and small stones, which, when broken open, proved to be
simply pieces of wood, thoroughly incrusted, and perfectly hard
and smooth on the outside, having the appearance of an ordinary
stone.
About the crater of "The
Castle" was the largest cone, or mass of incrustations, in the
basin. For a hundred yards around, the ground, flooded with
subsilica, of glittering whiteness, sloped gradually up to the
cone, which itself rose thirty feet, nearly perpendicular. It
was quite rugged and efflorescent, and on its outer sides had a
number of benches, sufficiently wide for a man to stand upon.
These enabled us to climb up and look into its crater, which was
irregular in shape, and about seven feet, the longest way, by
five feet, the shortest. The outside of the mound was nearly
round, and not less than thirty feet through at its base. We
called it "The Castle," on account of its size and commanding
appearance. It was in action a short time on the morning after
our arrival, but only threw water about thirty feet high. The
water did not retain the shape of a column, like that thrown out
by "Old Faithful," but rather splashed up and slopped over. This
geyser did not appear to be doing its best, but only spouted a
little in a patronizing way, thinking to surprise us novices
sufficiently without any undue exertion on its part.
The mound around "The Giant"
was about twelve feet high, and had a piece knocked out of one
side of it, so that we could look into the crater, which was
shaped like a hollow cylinder, and six feet in diameter. "The
Giant" discharged a column of water, of the same size as its
crater, to a height of a hundred feet. It played as if through
an immense hose. We thought it deserved to be called "The
Giant," as it threw out more water than any other geyser which
we saw in operation. Its cone was also large, and the water was
very hot; as, in fact, was the case with the water of all the
geysers. The day of our arrival, it was in nearly constant
action for about three hours, after which we did not see it
again discharge.
"The Grotto" has two craters,
connected on the surface by the incrustations which surround
them. We did not ascertain whether there was any subterranean
connection between them. We did not observe both craters
discharge at the same time, but one began when the other ceased.
Neither was in action for more than an hour. A solid stream was
thrown up more than sixty feet; that from the larger crater
being about five feet in diameter, and that from the smaller one
not more than three feet. The larger mound of incrustations was
.about ten feet high, and twenty feet through at the base. There
were several holes in it large enough for a man to crawl
through, which some of the party did, when the geyser was not in
action. The smaller mound was not more than five feet high, and
shaped like a hay-cock, with a portion of the top knocked off.
The two mounds were about twenty feet apart, and connected by a
ridge, or neck of incrustations, two feet high. "The Grotto" was
about a hundred yards from the river. A quarter of a mile
farther back, and just at the edge of the timber, we found a
mound in the true shape of a cone. At the vertex was a small
opening, not more than a foot in diameter. This geyser did not
appear to have discharged for some time. The ground was quite
dry all around, and a number of incrusted pine twigs, leaves,
and cones were found, which retained their shape perfectly, but
were hard, smooth, and white as alabaster. At that point, much
ballast was obtained for the pack animals.
Crossing the river, we named
the "Fantail" geyser from the fact that it discharged two
streams from its vent which spread out very much like a fan.
One of the most remarkable
geysers was "The Giantess." For yards around, the ground rose
gradually to its crater, but immediately about it was no
formation rising above the surface, as was the case with all the
other geysers which we saw in active operation. When quiet, it
was a clear, beautiful pool, caught in a subsilica urn, or vase,
with a hollow, bottomless stem, through which the steam came
bubbling, just like the effervescence of champagne from the
bottom of a long, hollow-necked glass. The mouth of the vase,
represented by the surface, was twenty feet by thirty; and the
neck, fifty feet below, was fifteen feet by ten. The water, at
times, retired to the level of the neck, or vent, and at other
times rose nearly to the surface. When in action, "The Giantess"
became a fountain with five jets, shooting the spray to a height
of two hundred feet. At the surface the largest jet was about
two feet in diameter, and it kept in solid column for more than
a hundred and fifty feet before breaking into drops and spray.
It burst forth just before sunset, and the last rays of light
gave prismatic tints to the glistening drops, when, having
reached their utmost altitude, they trembled at their coming
fall. The clouds of steam, which in this, as in all other
instances, accompanied the boiling water, became a golden fleece
lit up by wreaths of rainbows. Though inferior to "The Giant" in
immensity of volume, and perhaps in grandeur, "The Giantess" was
by far the most beautiful sight we saw in the geyser basin.
"The Beehive" — named from the
shape of its mound —was quite small, but threw its water higher
than any other geyser which we saw. The stream was less than two
feet in diameter, and ascended two hundred and twenty feet, from
accurate measurement by triangulation. It remained in action
only a few moments.
We saw many other geysers in
action, but those I have particularly described were the most
notable. They were all intermittent, few of them continuing in
action more than half an hour at a time. There were also many
mounds from which the water was evidently discharged at times,
but they were quiet during our stay. We were probably very
fortunate
in the time of our visit, for those we left
behind to search for Mr. Everts came by these geysers several
days later, and saw but two in operation: "The Fantail," and a
smaller one near it. They were, however, short of provisions,
and remained in the vicinity of the geysers but a few hours.
Steam-jets and clear, deep
pools occurred in great numbers, all over the geyser basin. The
latter were very beautiful. Four or five miles below the geyser
basin, on the west side of the Fire Hole, were four hot lakes.
They were similar to the clear, pale-violet pools which we saw
above, and at the point where we left the lake, but were very
much larger. Three of the party paced around the largest one,
making the circumference four hundred and fifty paces. It looked
very deep. The sides, of the whitest subsilica, converged at an
angle of about forty-five degrees. It was full to the brim, and
a track, about twenty feet wide all around it, was covered with
two inches of water, which was so hot that it almost scalded our
feet, through heavy boots. Before our pacers got all the way
round, they stepped not only very high, but in quite a lively,
animated style. Beyond the track of water which circled the
lake, the ground, covered with subsilica, sloped away gradually
on all sides. Immense volumes of steam rose from all these
lakes, and first attracted our attention to them. So much hot
water flowed from them that the Fire Hole was tempered for
several miles below. We found no fish anywhere in the Fire Hole,
though after its junction with the Madison they were quite
plentiful.
Leaving the hot lakes, we continued
homeward. On the way we passed through two beautiful cantons;
one on the Fire Hole, and one on the Madison. The cañon
on the Fire Hole is grand and beautiful. Its sides are granite,
nearly perpendicular, and from eight hundred to a thousand feet
high. It is cut on both sides by small, lateral ravines, which
are filled with evergreens; and on both sides of the river is a
narrow bottom, also covered with trees and verdure. The canon on
the Yellowstone is grand and gloomy. This one is beautiful and
cheerful. The first was seen from above, the last from below.
The former inspires one with awe, the latter with delight.
The Madison Cañon may be
less grand, but scarcely less beautiful. Its walls are not so
high, and generally not quite so precipitous. It is filled with
fine timber, affords splendid and picturesque camping-places,
and is watered not only by the Madison River, but by pleasant,
clear, rippling brooks, which flow through ravines entering the
sides of the cañon.
On the 22d of September, just
one month after leaving Fort Ellis, the party reached Farley's,
the frontier rancho on the Madison River. It was a little
strange to feel that we were again within the pale of
civilization. During our month's absence, we had seen so much
that was new and strange that it seemed more like a year. Every
one felt funny; and we looked at each other and laughed in a
silly way, as one small boy does, when, on entering church or
any other place where he ought to keep quiet, he catches the eye
of another small-boy acquaintance. There was a pleasure in
getting home; and all felt curious to hear the news. Papers, old
and new, were alike seized, and devoured with wonderful avidity.
One gentleman even got hold of a Norwegian paper, but it was too
much for his brain.
As an agricultural country, I was not favorably
impressed with the great Yellowstone basin, but its brimstone
resources are ample for all the matchmakers of the world. A
snow-storm in September, two feet deep, is hardly conducive to
any kind of agricultural enterprise or stock-raising; still, I
think sheep would do well in that country, if some shelter were
erected for them in winter. When, however, by means of the
Northern Pacific Railroad, the falls of the Yellowstone and the
geyser basin are rendered easy of access, probably no portion of
America will be more popular as a watering-place or summer
resort than that which we had the pleasure of viewing, in all
the glory and grandeur of its primeval solitude. |
