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Continued in
Second Article
The Wonders of the Yellowstone
First 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
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I HAD indulged, for
several years, a great curiosity to see the wonders of
the upper valley of the Yellowstone. The stories told by
trappers and mountaineers of the natural phenomena of
that region were so strange and marvelous that, as long
ago as 1866, I first contemplated the possibility of
organizing an expedition for the express purpose of
exploring it. During the past year, meeting with several
gentlemen who expressed like curiosity, we determined to
make the journey in the months of August and September. |
The Yellowstone and
Columbia, the first flowing into the Missouri and the
last into the Pacific, divided from each other by the
Rocky Mountains, have their sources within a few miles
of each other. Both rise in the mountains which separate
Idaho from the new Territory of Wyoming, but the
headwaters of the Yellowstone are only accessible from
Montana. The mountains surrounding the basin from which
they flow are very lofty, covered with pines, and on the
southeastern side present to the traveler a precipitous
wall of rock, several thousand feet in height. This
barrier prevented Captain Reynolds from visiting the
headwaters of the Yellowstone while prosecuting an
expedition planned by the Government and placed under
his command, for the purpose of exploring that river, in
1859.
The source of the
Yellowstone is in a magnificent lake, nearly 9,000 feet
above the level of the ocean. In its course of 1,300
miles to the Missouri, it falls about 7,200 feet. Its
upper waters flow through deep canons and gorges, and
are broken by immense cataracts and fearful rapids,
presenting at various points some of the grandest
scenery on the continent. This country is entirely
volcanic, and abounds in boiling springs, mud volcanoes,
huge mountains of sulphur, and geysers more extensive
and numerous than those of Iceland.
Old mountaineers and
trappers are great romancers. I have met with many, but
never one who was not fond of practicing upon the
credulity of those who listened to his adventures.
Bridger, than whom perhaps no man has experienced more
of wild mountain life, has been so much in the habit of
embellishing his Indian adventures, that they are
received by all who know him with many grains of
allowance. This want of faith will account for the
skepticism with which the oft-repeated stories of the
wonders of the Upper Yellowstone were received by people
who had lived within one hundred and twenty miles of
them, and who at any time could have established their
verity by ten days' travel.
Our company, composed
of some of the officials and leading citizens of
Montana, felt that if the half was true, they would be
amply compensated for all the troubles and hazards of
the expedition. It was, nevertheless, a serious
undertaking, and as the time drew near for our
departure, several who had been foremost to join us,
upon the receipt of intelligence that a large party of
Indians had come into the Upper Yellowstone valley,
found excuse for their withdrawal in various emergent
occupations, so that when the day for our departure
arrived, our company was reduced in numbers to nine, and
consisted of the following-named gentlemen: General H.
D. Washburn, who served with distinction during the war
of the rebellion, and subsequently represented the
Clinton District of Indiana in the Congress of the
United States; Samuel T. Hauser, President of the First
National Bank of Helena; Cornelius Hedges, a leading
member of the bar of Montana; Hon. Truman C. Everts,
late United States Assessor for Montana; Walter
Trumbull, son of Senator Trumbull; Ben. Stickney, Jr.;
Warren C. Gillette; Jacob Smith, and the writer.
The preparation was
simple. Each man was supplied with a strong horse, well
equipped with California saddle, bridle, and cantinas. A
needle-gun, a belt filled with cartridges, a pair of
revolvers, a hunting-knife, added to the usual costume
of the mountains, completed the personal outfit of each
member of the expedition. When mounted and ready to
start, we resembled more a band of brigands than sober
men in search of natural wonders. Our provisions,
consisting of bacon, dried fruit, flour, &c., were
securely lashed to the backs of twelve bronchos, which
were placed in charge of a couple of packers. We also
employed two colored boys as cooks.
Major-General Hancock,
in favorable response to our application for a military
escort, had given orders for a company of cavalry to
accompany us, which we expected to join at Fort Ellis,
in the Gallatin Valley—a distance of one hundred and
twenty miles from Helena. We were none the less obliged
to Gen. Hancock for his prompt compliance with our
application for an escort, because of his own desire,
previously expressed, to learn something of the country
we explored which would be of service to him in the
disposition of the troops under his command, for
frontier defense ; and if the result of our explorations
in the least contributed to that end, we still remain
the debtor of that officer for his courtesy and
kindness, without which we might have failed altogether
in our undertaking.
Our ride to Fort Ellis, through a well-settled portion
of the Territory, was accomplished in four days. That
portion of the valleys of the Missouri and Gallatin
through which we passed, dotted with numerous ranches,
presented large fields of wheat, oats, potatoes, and
other evidences of thrift common in agricultural
districts. Large droves of cattle were feeding upon the
bunch grass which carpeted the valleys and foot-hills.
Even the mountains, so wild, solemn, and unsocial a few
years ago, seemed to be domesticated as they reared
their familiar summits in long and continuous succession
along the bordering uplands. At the three forks, where
the Jefferson, Madison, and Gallatin unite and form the
Missouri, a thriving agricultural community has sprung
up, which must eventually grow into a town of
considerable importance. Entering the magnificent valley
of the Gallatin at this point, our course up the river
lay through one of the finest agricultural regions on
the continent. The soil is remarkably fertile, and the
valley stretches away on either side, a distance of
twenty miles, to immense mountain ranges, which traverse
its entire length, enclosing a territory as large as one
of the larger New England States, every foot of which is
susceptible of the highest cultivation.
Bozeman, a picturesque
village of seven hundred inhabitants, situated at the
foot of the Belt Range of mountains, is considered one
of the most important prospective business locations in
Montana. It is near the mouth of one of the few mountain
passes of the Territory deemed practicable for railroad
improvement. Its inhabitants are patiently awaiting the
time when the cars of the "Northern Pacific" shall
descend into their streets. The village is neatly built
of wood and brick. Its surroundings are magnificent. The
eye can distinctly trace the mountains by which it is
encircled, a distance of four hundred miles.
Fort Ellis, three miles
distant, is built upon a table of land elevated above
the valley, and which overlooks it for a great distance.
Our party was welcomed by Colonel Baker, the commandant,
and we pitched our tent near the post.
On the morning
succeeding our arrival we were informed that, owing to
the absence on duty of most of the soldiers, a fraction
of a company—five cavalrymen and a lieutenant in
command—were all that could be afforded for our escort;
but, realizing that a small body of white men can more
easily elude a band of Indians than can a large party,
and without hesitating to consider the possible defense
which we could make against a war party of hostile Sioux
with this limited number, we declared ourselves
satisfied, and took our departure for the terra
incognita as fully assured of a successful journey
as if our number had been multiplied by hundreds.
Our pack-horses were
brought up and their loads fastened to them with that
incredible rapidity and skill which is the result only
of life-long practice. The dexterity with which a
skillful packer will load and unload his horses is
remarkable. The rope is thrown around the body of the
animal and securely fastened in less time than it takes
to tell it. No matter what the character of the beast,
wild or tame, it is under the perfect control of its
master. The broncho is, however, a refractory customer.
He has many tricks, unknown to his well-trained brother
of the East. Bucking is a frequent vice, for which there
is small remedy; but, as was proved in a single instance
on the morning we left the fort, that horse must be more
expert than was any in our train who can foil an
experienced packer. Every leap of the enraged brute only
increased the tension of the cord which bound and
finally subdued him, and rendered him tractable.
Once under way, our
little company, now increased to nineteen, presented
quite a formidable appearance, as by dint of whip and
spur our steeds gayly wheeled across the plain towards
the mountains. After a tedious ride of several hours up
steep acclivities, over rocks, and through dark defiles,
we at length passed over the summit of the mountain
range, took a last look of the beautiful valley of the
Gallatin, and descended into a ravine coursed by the
waters of Trail Creek. Following this two days, we came
to the Yellowstone, up which we rode to the solitary
ranch of the brothers Boteler—the last abode of
civilized man in the direction of our travels. These
hardy mountaineers received and entertained us in hearty
mountain style—giving us the best of everything their
ranch afforded, together with a great deal of
information and advice about the country, which we
afterwards found to be invaluable. The Botelers belong
to that class of pioneers, of which there are many in
the new Territories, who are only satisfied when their
location and field of operations are a little in advance
of civilization — exposed to privation and danger—and
yet unite with these discomforts some advantages of
hunting, trapping, and fishing not enjoyed by men
contented to dwell in safety. Free-hearted, jolly
 and
brave, living upon such means as the country afforded,
accustomed to roam for days and weeks in the mountains
in pursuit of game and furs, their experience renewed
our courage, and the descriptions which they gave us of
the wonders they had seen increased our curiosity. It
was not pleasant, however, to learn that twenty-five
lodges of Crows had gone up the valley a few days before
our arrival, or to be told by a trapper whom we met that
he had been robbed by them, and, in common parlance,
"been set on foot," by having his horse and provisions
stolen.
In anticipation of
possible trouble from this source, we organized our
company, and elected Gen. H. D. Washburn,
Surveyor-General of Montana, commander. It was
understood that we should make but one march each
day—starting at 8 A.M., and camping at 3 P.M. This
obviated the necessity of unpacking and cooking a
dinner. At night the horses were to be carefully
picketed, a fire built beyond them, and two of the
company to keep guard until one o'clock; then to be
relieved by two others, who were to watch until
daylight. This divided the labor among fourteen, who
were to serve as picket-men twice each week.
These precautionary
measures being fully understood, we left Boteler's,
plunging at once into the vast unknown which lay before
us. Following the slight Indian trail, we traveled near
the bank of the river, amid the wildest imaginable
scenery of river, rock, and mountain. The foot-hills
were covered with verdure, which an autumnal sun had
sprinkled with maroon-colored tints, very delicate and
beautiful. The path was narrow, rocky, and uneven,
frequently leading over high hills, in ascent and
descent more or less abrupt and' difficult. The
increasing altitude of the route was more perceptible
than any over which we had ever traveled, and the river,
whenever visible, was a perfect mountain torrent.
 While
descending a hill into one of the broad openings of the
valley, our attention was suddenly arrested by half a
dozen or more mounted Indians, who were riding down the
foot-hills on the opposite side of the river. Two of our
company, who had lingered behind, came up with the
information that they had seen several more making
observations from behind a small butte, from which they
fled in great haste on being discovered. They soon rode
down on the plateau to a point where their horses were
hobbled, and for a long time watched our party as it
continued its course of travel up the river. Our camp
was guarded that night with more than ordinary
vigilance. A hard rain-storm, which set in early in the
afternoon and continued through the night, may have
saved us from an attack by these prowlers.
When we started the
next morning, Gen. Washburn detailed four of our company
to guard the pack train,- while he, with four others,
rode in advance to make the most practicable selection
of routes. Six miles above our camp we ascended the
.spur of a mountain, which came down boldly to the
river's edge. From its summit we had a beautiful view of
the valley stretched out before us—the river fringed
with cottonwood trees—the foot-hills covered with
luxuriant, many-tinted herbage, and over all the
snow-crowned summits of the mountains, many miles away,
but seemingly rising from the midst of the plateau at
our feet. Looking up the river, the valley opened
widely, and from the rock on which we stood was visible
the train of pack-horses, slowly winding their way along
the sinuous trail, which followed the inequalities of
the mountain-side. The whole formed a scene of great
interest. Pursuing our course a few miles farther, we
camped just below the lower cañon of the river. Our
hunters provided us with a sumptuous meal of antelope,
rabbit, duck, grouse, and trout.
The night was very
cold, the mercury standing at 40° when we broke camp, at
eight o'clock the next morning. We remained some time at
the lower cañon of the Yellowstone, which, as a single
isolated piece of scenery, is very beautiful. It is less
than a mile in length, and perhaps does not exceed 1,000
feet in depth. Its walls are vertical, and, seen from
the summit of the precipice, the river seems forced
through a narrow gorge, and is surging and boiling at a
fearful rate—the water breaking into millions of
prismatic drops against every projecting rock.
After traveling six miles over the mountains above the
cañon, we again descended into a broad and open valley,
skirted by a level upland for several miles. Here an
object met our attention which deserves more than a
casual notice. It was two parallel vertical walls of
rock, projecting from the side of a mountain to the
height of 125 feet, traversing the mountain from base to
summit, a distance of 1,500 feet. These walls were not
to exceed thirty feet in width, and their tops for the
whole length were crowned with a growth of pines. The
sides were as even as if they had been worked by line
and plumb—The whole space between, and on either side of
them, having been completely eroded and washed away. We
had seen many of the capricious works wrought by erosion
upon the friable rocks of Montana, but never before upon
so majestic a scale. Here an entire mountainside, by
wind and water, had been removed, leaving as the
evidences of their protracted toil these vertical
projections, which, but for their immensity, might as
readily be mistaken for works of art as of nature. Their
smooth sides, uniform width and height, and great
length, considered in connection with the causes which
had wrought their insulation, excited our wonder and
admiration. They were all the more curious because of
their dissimilarity to any other striking objects in
natural scenery that we had ever seen or heard of. In
future years, when the wonders of the Yellowstone are
incorporated into the family of fashionable resorts,
there will be few of its attractions surpassing in
interest this marvelous freak of the elements. For some
reason, best understood by himself, one of our
companions gave to these rocks the name of the "Devil's
Slide." The suggestion was unfortunate, as, with more
reason perhaps, but with no better taste, we frequently
had occasion to appropriate other portions of the person
of his Satanic Majesty, or of his dominion, in
signification of the varied marvels we met with. Some
little excuse may be found for this in the fact that the
old mountaineers and trappers who preceded us had been
peculiarly lavish in the use of the infernal vocabulary.
Every river and glen and mountain had suggested to their
imaginations some fancied resemblance to portions of a
region which their pious grandmothers had warned them to
avoid. It is common for them, when speaking of this
region, to designate portions of its physical features,
as "Fire Hole Prairie,” the "Devil's Glen,"—" Hell
Roaring River," &c. —and these names, from a remarkable
fitness of things, are not likely to be speedily
superseded by others less impressive. We camped at the
close of this day's travel near the southwestern corner
of Montana, at the mouth of Gardiner's River.
Crossing this stream the next morning, we passed over
several rocky ridges into a valley which, for a long
distance, was crowded with the spires of protruding
rocks, which gave it such a dismal aspect that we named
it "The Valley of Desolation." The trail was so rough
and mountainous that we were able to travel but six
miles before the usual hour for camping. Much of the
distance was through fallen timber, almost impassable by
the pack train. A mile before camping we discovered on
the trail the fresh tracks of unshod ponies, indicating
that a party of Indians had recently passed over it.
Lieutenant Doane, with one of our company, had left us
in the morning, and did not come into camp this evening.
One of our horses broke his lariat during the night and
galloped through the camp, rousing the sleepers, who
grasped their guns, supposing the Indians were really
upon them.
We started early the
next morning and soon struck the trail which had been
traveled the preceding day by Lieutenant Doane. It led
over a more practicable route than the one we left. The
marks made in the soil by the travais (lodge-poles) on
the side of the trail showed that it had been recently
traveled by a number of lodges of Indians,—and a little
colt, which we overtook soon after making the discovery,
convinced us that we were in their immediate vicinity.
Our party was separated, and if we had been attacked,
our pack-train, horses, and stores would have been an
easy conquest. Fortunately we were unmolested, and, when
again united, made a fresh resolusion to travel as much
in company as possible. All precautionary measures,
however, unless enforced by the sternest discipline, are
soon forgotten—and danger, until actually impending, is
seldom borne in mind. A day had scarcely passed when we
were as reckless as ever.
From the summit of a commanding range, which separated
the waters of Antelope and Tower Creeks, we descended
through a picturesque gorge, leading our horses to a
small stream flowing into the Yellowstone. Four miles of
travel, a great part of it down the precipitous slopes
of the mountain, brought us to the banks of Tower Creek,
and within the volcanic region, where the wonders were
supposed to commence. On the right of the trail our
attention was first attracted by a small hot sulphur
spring, a little below the boiling point in temperature.
Leaving the spring we ascended a high ridge, from which
the most noticeable feature, in. a landscape of great
extent and beauty, was Column Rock, stretching for two
miles along the eastern bank of the Yellowstone. At the
distance from which we saw it, we could compare it in
appearance to nothing but a section of the Giant's
Causeway. It was composed of successive pillars of
basalt overlying and under- lying a thick stratum of
cement and gravel resembling pudding-stone. In both
rows, the pillars, standing in close proximity, were
each about thirty feet high and from three to five feet
in diameter. This interesting object, more from the
novelty of its formation and its beautiful surroundings
of mountain and river scenery than anything grand or
impressive in its appearance, excited our attention,
until the gathering shades of evening reminded us of the
necessity of selecting a suitable camp. We descended the
declivity to the banks of Tower Creek, and camped on a
rocky terrace one mile distant from, and four hundred
feet above the Yellowstone.
Tower Creek is a
mountain torrent flowing through a gorge about forty
yards wide. Just below our camp it falls perpendicularly
over an even ledge 112 feet, forming one of the most
beautiful cataracts in the world. For some distance
above the fall the stream is broken into a great number
of channels, each of which has worked a tortuous course
through a compact body of shale to the verge of the
precipice, where they re-unite and form the fall. The
countless shapes into which the shale has been wrought
by the action of the angry waters, add a feature of
great interest to the scene. Spires of solid shale,
capped with slate, beautifully rounded and polished,
faultless in symmetry, raise their tapering forms to the
height of from 80 to 150 feet, all over the plateau
above the cataract. Some resemble towers, others the
spires of churches, and others still shoot up as lithe
and slender as the minarets of a mosque. Some of the
loftiest of these formations, standing like sentinels
upon the very brink of the fall, are accessible to an
expert and adventurous climber. The position attained on
one of their narrow summits, amid the uproar of waters
and at a height of 250 feet above the boiling chasm, as
the writer can affirm, requires a steady head and strong
nerves yet the view which rewards the temerity of the
exploit is full of compensations. Below the fall the
stream descends in numerous rapids, with frightful
velocity, through a gloomy gorge, to its union with the
Yellowstone. Its bed is filled with enormous boulders,
against which the rushing waters break with great fury.
Many of the capricious formations wrought from the shale
excite merriment as well as wonder. Of this kind
especially was a huge mass sixty feel in height, which,
from its supposed resemblance to the proverbial foot of
his Satanic Majesty, we called the "Devil's Hoof." The
scenery of mountain, rock, and forest surrounding the
falls is very beautiful. Here, too, the hunter and
fisherman can indulge their tastes with the certainty of
ample reward. As a half-way resort to the greater
wonders still farther up the marvelous river, the
visitor of future years will find no more delightful
resting-place. No account of this beautiful fall has
ever been given by any of the former visitors to this
region. The name of "Tower Falls," which we gave it, was
suggested by some of the most conspicuous features of
the scenery.
Early the next morning several of our company left in
advance, to explore a passage for our pack train over
the mountains, which were very steep and lofty. We had
been following a bend in the river,—but as no sign of a
change in its course was apparent, our object was, by
finding a shorter route across the country, to avoid
several days of toilsome travel. The advance party
ascended a lofty peak,—by barometrical measurement,
10,580 feet above ocean level,—which, in honor of our
commander, was called Mount Washburn. From its summit,
400 feet above the line of perpetual snow, we were able
to trace the course of the river to its source in
Yellowstone Lake. At the point where we crossed the line
of vegetation the snow covered the side of the apex of
the mountain to the depth of twenty feet, and seemed to
be as solid as the rocks upon which it rested.
Descending the mountain, we came upon the trail made by
the pack-train at its base, which we followed into camp
at the head of a small stream flowing into the
Yellowstone. Following the stream in the direction of
its mouth, at the distance of a mile below our camp, we
crossed an immense bed of volcanic ashes, thirty feet
deep, extending one hundred yards along both sides of
the creek. Less than a mile beyond, we suddenly came
upon a hideous-looking glen filled with the sulphurous
vapor emitted from six or eight boiling springs of great
size and activity. One of our company aptly compared it
to the entrance to the infernal regions, It looked like
nothing earthly we had ever seen, and the pungent fumes
which filled the atmosphere were not unaccompanied by a
disagreeable sense of possible suffocation. Entering the
basin cautiously, we found the entire surface of the
earth covered with the incrusted sinter thrown from the
springs. Jets of hot vapor were expelled through a
hundred natural orifices with which it was pierced, and
through every fracture made by- passing over it. The
springs themselves were as diabolical in appearance as
the witches' caldron in Macbeth, and needed but the
presence of Hecate and her weird band to realize that
horrible creation of poetic fancy. They were all in a
state of violent ebullition, throwing their liquid
contents to the height of three or four feet. The
largest had a basin twenty by forty feet in diameter.
Its greenish-yellow water was covered with bubbles,
which were constantly rising, bursting, and emitting
sulphurous gas from various parts of its surface. The
central spring seethed and bubbled like a boiling
caldron. Fearful volumes of vapor were constantly
escaping it. Near it was another, not so large, but more
infernal in appearance. Its contents, of the consistency
of paint, were in constant, noisy ebullition. A stick
thrust into it, on being withdrawn, was coated with
lead-colored slime a quarter of an inch in thickness.
Nothing flows from this spring. Seemingly, it is boiling
down. A fourth spring, which exhibited the same physical
features, was partly covered by an overhanging ledge of
rock. We tried to fathom it, but the bottom was beyond
the mach of the longest pole we could find. Rocks cast
into it increased the agitation of it’s waters. There
were several other springs in the group, smaller in
size, but presenting the same characteristics.
The approach to them was unsafe, the incrustation
surrounding them bending in many places beneath our
weight,—and from the fractures thus created would ooze a
sulphury slime of the consistency of mucilage. It was
with great difficulty that we obtained specimens from
the natural apertures with which the crust is filled,—a
feat which was accomplished by one only of our party,
who extended himself at full length upon that portion of
the incrustation which yielded the least, but which was
not sufficiently strong to bear his weight while in an
upright positions, and at imminent risk of sinking into
the infernal mixture, rolled over and over to the edge
of the opening, andwith the crust slowly bending and
sinking beneath him, hurriedly secured the coveted
prize.
There was something so
revolting in the general appearance of the springs and
their surroundings—the foulness of the vapors, the
infernal contents, the treacherous incrustation, the
noisy ebullition, the general appearance of desolation,
and the seclusion and wildness of the locations—that
though awe-struck, we were not unreluctant to continue
our journey without making them a second visit. They
were probably never before seen by white man. The, name
of "Hell Broth Springs," which we gave them, fully
expressed our appreciation of their character.
Our journey the next
day still continued through a country until then
untraveled. Owing to the high lateral mountain spurs,
the numerous ravines, and the interminable patches of
fallen timber, we made very slow progress; but when the
hour for camping arrived we were greatly surprised to
find ourselves descending the mountain along the banks
of a beautiful stream in the immediate vicinity of the
Great Falls of the Yellowstone. This stream, which we
called Cascade Creek, is very rapid. Just before its
union with the river it passes through a gloomy gorge,
of abrupt descent, which on either side is filled with
continuous masses of obsidian that have been worn by the
water into many fantastic shapes and cavernous recesses.
This we named "The Devil's Den." Near the foot of the
gorge the creek breaks from fearful rapids into a
cascade of great beauty. The first fall of five feet is
immediately succeeded by another of fifteen, into a pool
as clear as amber, nestled beneath overarching rocks.
Here it lingers as if half reluctant to continue its
course, and then gracefully emerges from the grotto,
and, veiling the rocks down an abrupt descent of
eighty-four feet, passes rapidly on to the Yellowstone.
It received the name of "Crystal."
The Great Falls are at the head of one of the most
remarkable cañons in the world— a gorge through volcanic
rocks fifty miles long, and varying from one thousand to
nearly five thousand feet in depth. In its descent
through this wonderful chasm the river falls almost
three thousand feet. At one point, where the passage has
been worn through a mountain range, our hunters assured
us it was more than a vertical mile in depth, and the
river, broken into rapids and cascades, appeared no
wider than a ribbon. The brain reels as we gaze into
this profound and solemn solitude. We shrink from the
dizzy verge appalled, glad to feel the solid earth under
our feet, and venture no more, except with forms
extended, and faces barely protruding over the edge of
the precipice. The stillness is horrible. Down, down,
down, we see the river attenuated to a thread, tossing
its miniature waves, and dashing, with puny strength,
the massive walls which imprison it. All access to its
margin is denied, and the dark gray rocks hold it in
dismal shadow.
Even the voice of its
waters in their convulsive agony cannot be heard.
Uncheered by plant or shrub, obstructed with massive
boulders and by jutting points, it rushes madly on its
solitary course, deeper and deeper into the bowels of
the rocky firmament. The solemn grandeur of the scene
surpasses description. It must be seen to be felt. The
sense of danger with which it impresses you is harrowing
in the extreme. You feel the absence of sound, the
oppression of absolute silence. If you could only hear
that gurgling river, if you could see a living tree in
the depth beneath you, if a bird would fly past, if the
wind would move any object in the awful chasm, to break
for a moment the solemn silence that reigns there, it
would relieve that tension of the nerves which the scene
has excited, and you would rise from your prostrate
condition and thank God that he had permitted you to
gaze, unharmed, upon this majestic display of natural
architecture. As it is, sympathizing in spirit with the
deep gloom of the scene, you crawl from the dreadful
verge, scared lest the firm rock give way beneath and
precipitate you into the horrid gulf.
We had been told by
trappers and mountaineers that there were cataracts in
this vicinity a thousand feet high; but, if so, they
must be lower down the canon, in that portion of it
which, by our journey across the bend in the river, we
failed to see. We regretted, when too late, that we had
not made a fuller exploration—for by no other theory
than that there was a stupendous fall below us, or that
the river was broken by a continued succession of
cascades, could we account for a difference of nearly
3,000 feet in altitude between the head and the mouth of
the cañon. In that part of the cañon which we saw, the
inclination of the river was marked by frequent falls
fifteen and twenty feet in height, sufficient, if
continuous through it, to accomplish the entire descent.
The fearful descent
into this terrific cañon was as accomplished with great
difficulty by Messrs. Hauser and Stickney, at a point
about two miles below the falls. By trigonometrical
measurement they found the chasm at that point to be
1,190 feet deep. Their ascent from it was perilous, and
it was only by making good use of hands and feet, and
keeping the nerves braced to the utmost tensions, that
they were enabled to clamber up the precipitous rocks to
a safe landing-place. The effort seas successfully made,
but none others of the company were disposed to venture.
From a first view of
the cañon we followed the river to the falls. A grander
scene than the lower cataract of the Yellowstone was
never witnessed by mortal eyes. The volume seemed to be
adapted to all the harmonies of the surrounding scenery.
Had it been greater or smaller it would have been less
impressive. The river, from a width of two hundred feet
above the fall, is compressed by converging rocks to one
hundred and fifty feet, where it takes the plunge. The
shelf over which it falls is as level and even as a work
of art. The height, by actual line measurement, is a few
inches snore than 350 feet. It is a sheer, compact,
solid, perpendicular sheet, faultless in all the
elements of grandeur and picturesque beauties. The cañon
which commences at the upper fall, half a mile above
this cataract, is here a thousand feet in depth. Its
vertical sides rise gray and dark above the fall to
shelving summits, from which one can look down into the
boiling, spray-tilled chasm, enlivened with rainbows,
and glittering like a shower of diamonds. From a shelf
protruding over the stream, 500 feet below the top of
the cañon, and 180 above the verge of the cataract, a
member of our company, lying prone upon the rock, let
down a cord with a stone attached into the gulf, and
measured its profoundest depths. The life and sound of
the cataract, with its sparkling spray and fleecy foam,
contrasts strangely with the sombre stillness of the
cañon a mile below. There all was darkness, gloom, and
shadow; here all was vivacity, gayety, and delight. One
was the most unsocial, the other the most social scene
in nature. We could talk, and sing, and whoop, waking
the echoes with our mirth and laughter in presence of
the falls, but we could not thus profane the silence of
the cañon. Seen through the cañon below the falls, the
river for a mile or more is broken by rapids and
cascades of great variety and beauty.
Between the lower and
upper falls the cañon is two hundred to nearly four
hundred feet deep. The river runs over a level bed of
rock, and is undisturbed by rapids until near the verge
of the lower fall. The upper fall is entirely unlike the
other, but in its peculiar character equally
interesting. For some distance above it the river breaks
into frightful rapids. The stream is narrowed between
the rocks as it approaches the brink, and bounds with
impatient struggles for release, leaping through the
stony jaws, in a sheet of snow-white foam, over a
precipice nearly perpendicular, 115 feet high. Midway in
its descent the entire volume of water is carried, by
the sloping surface of an intervening ledge, twelve or
fifteen feet beyond the vertical base of the precipice,
gaining therefrom a novel and interesting feature. The
churning of the water upon the rocks reduces it to a
mass of foam and spray, through which all the colors of
the solar spectrum are reproduced in astonishing
profusion. What this cataract lacks in sublimity is more
than compensated by picturesqueness. The rocks which
overshadow it do not veil it from the open light. It is
up amid the pine foliage which crowns the adjacent
hills, the grand feature of a landscape unrivaled for
beauties of vegetations as well as of rock and glen. The
two confronting rocks, overhanging the verge at the
height of a hundred feet or more, could be readily
united by a bridge, from which some of the grandest
views of natural scenery in the world could be
obtained—while just in front of, and within reaching
distance of the arrowy water, from a table one-third of
the way below the brink of the fall, all its nearest
beauties and terrors may be caught at a glance.
We rambled around the
falls and cañon two days, and left them with the
unpleasant conviction that the greatest wonder of our
journey had been seen.
We indulged in a last and lingering glance at the falls
on the morning of the first day of Autumn. The sun shone
brightly, and the laughing waters of the upper fall were
filled with the glitter of rainbows and diamonds.
Nature, in the excess of her prodigality, had seemingly
determined that this last look should be the brightest,
for there was everything in the landscape, illuminated
by the rising sun, to invite a longer stay. Even the
dismal cañon, so dark and gray and still, reflected here
and there on its vertical surface patches of sunshine,
as much as to say, “See what I can do when I try."
Everything had “put a jocund humor on." Long vistas of
light broke through the pines which crowned the
contiguous mountains, and the snow-crowned peaks in the
distance glistened like crystal. Catching the spirit of
the scene, we laughed and sung, and whooped as we
rambled hurriedly from point to point, lingering only
when the final moment came to receive the very last
impression. At length we
turned our backs upon the scene, and wended our way
slowly up the river-bank along a beaten trail. The last
vestige of the rapids disappeared at the distance of
half a mile above the Upper Fall. The river, expanded to
the width of 400 feet, rolled peacefully between low
verdant banks. The water for some distance was of that
emerald hue which is so distinguishing a feature of
Niagara. The bottom was pebbly, and but for the
treacherous quicksands and crevices, of which it was
full, we could easily have forded the stream at any
point between the falls and our camping-place. We
crossed a little creek strongly impregnated with
alum,—and three miles beyond found ourselves in the
midst of volcanic wonders of great variety and
profusion. The region was filled with boiling springs
and craters. Two hills, each 300 feet high, and from a
quarter to half a mile across, had been formed wholly of
the sinter thrown from adjacent springs—lava, sulphur,
and reddish-brown clay. Hot streams of vapor were
pouring from crevices scattered over them. Their
surfaces answered in hollow intonations to every
footstep, and in several places yielded to the weight of
our horses. Steaming vapor rushed hissingly from the
fractures, and all around the natural vents large
quantities of sulphur in crystallized form, perfectly
pure, had been deposited. This could be readily gathered
with pick and shovel. A great many exhausted craters
dotted the hillside. One near the summit, still alive,
changed its hues like steel under the process of
tempering, to every kiss of the passing breeze. The
hottest vapors were active beneath the incrusted surface
everywhere. A thick leathern glove was no protection to
the hand exposed to them. Around these immense thermal
deposits, the country, for a great distance in all
directions, is filled with boiling springs, all
exhibiting separate characteristics.
The most conspicuous of
the cluster is a sulphur spring twelve by twenty feet in
diameter, encircled by a beautifully scolloped
sedimentary border, in which the water is thrown to a
height of from three to seven feet. The regular
formation of this border, and the perfect shading of the
scollops forming it, are among the most delicate and
wonderful freaks of nature's handiwork. They look like
an elaborate work of art. This spring is located at the
western base of Crater Hill, above described, and the
gentle slope around it for a distance of 300 feet is
covered to considerable depth with a mixture of sulphur
and brown lava. 'The moistened bed of a small channel,
leading from the spring down the slope, indicated that
it had recently overflowed.
A few rods north of
this spring, at the base of the hill, is a cavern whose
mouth is about seven feet in diameter, from which a
dense jet of sulphurous vapor explodes with a regular
report like a high-pressure engine. A little farther
along we came upon another boiling spring, seventy feet
long by forty wide, the water of which is dark and
muddy, and in unceasing agitation.
About a hundred yards
distant we discovered a boiling alum spring, surrounded
with beautiful crystals, from the border of which we
gathered a quantity of alum, nearly- pure, but slightly
impregnated with iron. The violent ebullition of the
water had undermined the surrounding surface in many
places, and for the distance of several feet from the
mar gin had so thoroughly saturated the incrustation
with its liquid contents, that it was unsafe to approach
the edge. As one of our company was unconcernedly
passing near the brink, the incrustation suddenly
sloughed off beneath his feet. A shout of alarm from his
comrades aroused him to a sense of his peril, and he
only avoided being plunged into the boiling mixture by
falling suddenly backward at full length upon the firm
portion of the crust, and rolling over to a place of
safety. His escape from a horrible death was most
marvellous, and in another instant he would have been
beyond all human aid. Our efforts to sound the depths of
this spring with a pole thirty-five feet in length were
fruitless.
Beyond this we entered
a basin covered with the ancient deposit of some extinct
crater, which contained about thirty springs of boiling
clay. These unsightly caldrons varied in size from two
to ten feet in diameter, their surfaces being from three
to eight feet below the level of the plain. The contents
of most of them were of the consistency of thick paint,
which they greatly resembled, some being yellow, others
pink, and others dark brown. This semi-fluid was boiling
at a fearful rate, much after the fashion of a
hasty-pudding in the last stages of completion. The
bubbles, often two feet in height, would explode with a
puff, emitting at each time a villainous smell of
sulphuretted vapor. Springs six and eight feet in
diameter, but four feet asunder, presented distinct
phenomenal characteristics. There was no connection
between them, above or below. The sediment varied in
color, and not unfrequently there would be an inequality
of five feet in their surfaces. Each, seemingly, was
supplied with a separate force. They were embraced
within a radius of 1,200 feet, which was covered with a
strong incrustation, the various vents in which emitted
streams of heated vapor. Our silver watches, and other
metallic articles, assumed a dark leaden hue. The
atmosphere was filled with sulphurous gases, and the
river opposite our camp was impregnated with the mineral
bases of adjacent springs. The valley through which we
had made our day's journey was level and beautiful,
spreading away to grassy foot-hills, which terminated in
a horizon of mountains.
We spent the next day
in examining the wonders surrounding us. At the base of
adjacent foothills we found three springs of boiling
mud, the largest of which, forty feet in diameter,
encircled by an elevated rim of solid tufa, resembles an
immense caldron. The seething, bubbling contents,
covered with steam, are five feet below the run. The
disgusting appearance of this spring is scarcely atoned
for by the wonder with which it fills the beholder. The
other two springs, much smaller, but presenting the same
general features, are located near a large sulphur
spring of milder temperature, but
 too
hot for bathing. On the brow of an adjacent hillock,
amid the green pines, heated vapor issues in scorching
jets from several craters and fissures. Passing over the
hill, we struck a small stream of perfectly transparent
water flowing from a cavern, the roof of which tapers
back to the water, which is boiling furiously, at a
distance of twenty feet from the mouth, and is ejected
through it in uniform jets of great force. The sides and
entrance of the cavern are covered with soft green
sediment, which renders the rock on which it is
deposited as soft and pliable as putty.
About two hundred yards
from this cave is a most singular phenomenon, which we
called the Muddy Geyser. It presents a funnel-shaped
orifice, in the midst of a basin one hundred and fifty
feet in diameter, with sloping sides of clay and sand.
The crater or orifice, at the surface, is thirty by
fifty feet in diameter. It tapers quite uniformly to the
depth of about thirty feet, where the water may be seen,
when the geyser is in repose, presenting a surface of
six or seven feet in breadth. The flow of this geyser is
regular every six hours. The water rises gradually,
commencing to boil when about half way to the surface,
and occasionally breaking forth in great violence. When
the crater is filled, it is expelled from it in a
splashing, scattered mass, ten or fifteen feet in
thickness, to the height of forty feet. The water is of
a dark lead color, and deposits the substance it holds
in solution in the form of miniature stalagmites upon
the sides and top of the crater. As this was the first
object which approached a geyser, we, naturally enough,
regarded it with intense curiosity. The deposit
contained in the water of this geyser comprises about
one-fifteenth of its bulk, and an analysis of it, made
by Prof. Augustus Steitz, of Montana, gives the
following result :—Silica, 36.7; alumina, 52.4; oxide of
iron, 1.8 ; oxide of calcium, 3.2 ; oxide of magnesia,
1.8 ; soda and potassa, 4.1= 100.
While returning by a
new route to our camp, dull, thundering sounds, which
General Washburn likened to frequent discharges of a
distant mortar, broke upon our ears. We followed their
direction, and found them to proceed from a mud volcano,
which occupied the slope of a small hill, embowered in a
grove of pines. Dense volumes of steam shot into the air
with each report, through a crater thirty feet in
diameter. The reports, though irregular, occurred as
often as every five seconds, and could be distinctly
heard half a mile. Each alternate report shook the
ground a distance of two hundred yards or more, and the
massive jets of vapor which accompanied them burst forth
like the smoke of burning gunpowder. It was impossible
to stand on the edge of that side of the crater opposite
the wind, and one of our party, Mr. Hedges, was rewarded
for his temerity in venturing too near the rim, by being
thrown by the force of the volume of steam violently
down the outer side of the crater. From hasty views,
afforded by occasional gusts of wind, we could see at a
depth of sixty feet the regurgitating contents.
This volcano, as is
evident from the freshness of the vegetation and the
particles of dried clay adhering to the topmost branches
of the trees surrounding it, is of very recent
formation. Probably it burst forth but a few months ago.
Its first explosion must have been terrible. We saw
limbs of trees 125 feet high encased in clay, and found
its scattered contents two hundred feet from it. We
closed this day's labor by a visit to several other
springs, so like those already described that they
require no special notice.
(Continued in
The Wonders of
the Yellowstone - Second Article)
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