[William Clayton Journal] This morning wc have had two pleasant showers accompanied by pretty loud thunder. At 1/4 to 9 we proceeded onward passing through a narrow ravine between very high mountains. After traveling 1 1/4 mile passed a deep ravine whcrc most of the teams had to double to get up. 1/2 mile further crossed the creek and found the crossing place very bad .... the mountains secm to increase in height, and come so near together in some places, as to leave merely room enough for a crooked road...As wc halted O. P. Rockwell came up from Elder Pratt's company. He reports that it is about 25 or 30 miles to the canyon. They have found the road leading ovcr the mountains to avoid the canyon and expect to be on top today at noon....for several miles there arc many patches or groves of the wild currant, Hop vines, Elder and Black Birch. Willows arc abundant and high. The currants arc yet green and taste most like a gooseberry, thick rind and rather bitter . . .
In some places we had to pass closc to the foot of high perpendicular red mountains of rock supposed to be from 600 to 1000 feet high...There is a very singular echo in this ravinc, the rattling of wagons resembles carpenters hammering at boards inside the highest rocks. The report of a rifle resembles a sharp crack of thunder and echoes from rock to rock for some time. The lowing of cattle and braying of mules seems to be answered beyond the mountains. Music especially brass instruments have a very pleasing effect and resemble a person standing inside the rock imitating every note. The echo the high rocks on the north high mountains on the south with the narrow ravine for a road form a scenery at once romantic and more interesting than I have ever witnessed. Soon after we camped I walked up the highest mountain on the south. The ascent is so steep that there is scarce a place to be found to place the foot flat and firm and the visitor is every moment if he makes the least slip or stumbles, [in danger] of being precip[it]ated down to the bottom, and once overbalanced, there is no possibility of stopping himself till he gets to the bottom, in which case he would doubtless be dashed to pieces. After resting about half a dozen times I arrived at the top and found the ascent equally steep all the way up. In many places I had to go on my hands and feet to keep from falling backwards. From this mountain I could see the red fork of Webers River about a mile west of the Camp, looking back I could see the road we had come for several miles, but in every other direction nothing but ranges of mountains still as much higher than the one I was on as it is above the creek. The scenery is truly wild and melancholy . . .
[source: George D. Smith, An Intimate Chronicle; The Journals of William Clayton, Signature Books in association with Smith Research Associates, Salt Lake City, 1995, http://amzn.to/william-clayton]
No comments:
Post a Comment