Continuing with the diary of James Field, teamster for the Riggs family, as published in the Willamette Farmer.
Photo of a display at
Woman mourning death of child
Fri., 18. - A child died in St. Clair's company last evening, and as they were close to us it was saddening indeed to hear the mournful lamentations of its friends in that lonely and desolate part of creation where the calm stillness of the midnight hour is seldom disturbed by any sound save the low murmur of the river, as it rushes rapidly past, and the howlings of the roving wolves, now rising like the yells of a band of savages, then dying away into the low, plaintive whining of a famished cur. We only traveled about three miles to-day, fording the river about half way between the three camps. It was a very good ford for crossing wagons, although rather difficult to get to, as we were obliged to descend a steep hill with the wheels locked; when in we turned and went down stream, quartering across a couple of islands, and I believe the water did not wet a single wagon-bed. Green River is a rapid and deep stream, with very few good fording places, and we were told by the Oregon company we met on Sweetwater that we would be obliged to raft it if we went the regular road. In the afternoon the child spoken of this morning was buried about a mile above our camp, and as I saw the little procession moving out from their camp on foot, two men with coffin leading the way, I thought that heavy indeed must be the heart of the parent who is compelled to deposit it in such a place as this barren region is. It is indeed worse if possible than ever, for excepting narrow belts of grass along the river or around a springy marsh, nothing grows that can sustain a solitary beast, and the eternal wormwood or wild sage or whatever it is, is short and dried up, and where the land is clayey it is hard and full of cracks, and as the wagons pass over it they rais a blinding cloud of dust. The sandy part of the road is also very dusty. The country is very high and broken, although we have some level stretches. There has been a scarcity of timber ever since we left Platte River, but it is plenty on Green River.
Sat., 19. - The bluffs were so steep and high, shutting in close to the river, as to compel us to double our teams to get out of camp this morning, and when on the bluffs had a rough road for about two miles until we struck Tethro's trail. We followed up, going about 11 miles in all, and camping on a very pretty little branch of Green River, which winds its way through a fine bottom among the mountains, and having first rate grass along the borders. The day was nearly spent in getting over a high bluff which shut into the river just below Tethero's last camp. After spending all the forepart of the day in ascending it, a person at 2 o'clock could almost have thrown a stone to where we were at 10 o'clock. It reminded me of an old couplet that would fir Capt. Riggs with all his teams and men - "Marched up a hill and then marched down again."
Sun., 20. - This morning there is ice three-fourths of an inch thick in some of the vessels about camp. We went about 10 miles to-day, camping on the side of a mountain called Pine Grove.
Mon., 21. - Went about 16 miles, the road the same as yesterday, leading across a succession of hills, some of which might be called mountains. Our camp was visited by a large party of Snake Indians, they being the first natives we have seen this side of Fort Larimie. They had a number of excellent ponies with them, and were anxious to trade with us, asking a gun with a few charges of powder and lead for a horse. The guns they like best are smooth-bores with single triggers and flint locks; they prefer a shot-gun to a rifle.
Tues., 22. - We are camped upon a branch of Green River called Ham's Fork. I learn this morning that it is considerable of a stream, although it is very bad camping on account of grass. The Indians are going into camp, and have traded off several horses. We went about 14 miles, it being all the way up hill to the last mile, which led down one of the steepest hills I ever saw wagons pass down. We had to lock the wheels, and finally camped in a deep hollow along with Tethero again. The country we passed over to-day is more fertile than any we have seen for weeks, having quite a sod of grass upon it, and being nearly destitute of the wild wormwood which everywhere abounds in the barrenest parts of the country.
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| Bear River Canyon photo from: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bear_River_(Great_Salt_Lake)#/media/File:Bear_River_Canyon.jpg |
Wed., 23. - Went about 10 miles to-day, over one more mountain, coming down upon Bear River and camping on it. This river is one of the streams which empty into the Great Salt Lake.
Thurs., 24. - This morning is showery, and it is the first rain we have had for many weeks. Went about 15 miles to-day, keeping down the river bottom and crossing the river once. One mile from last camp crossed Smith's fork. I omitted mentioning yesterday that where we struck Bear River we came into the old road again.
From “The Diary of James Field” Willamette Farmer (Portland, OR, Fridays: April 18 – August 1, 1879).
13 Jun 1879 (July 16- 21)
20 Jun 1879 (July 22-29)
#/media/File:Bear_River_Canyon.jpg){kind=link}
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