CHAPTER XII.
FROM THE JUNCTION OF THE KOOSKOOSKEE WITH
LEWIS'S RIVER TO THE COLUMBIA
From the mouth of the Kooskooskee to that of the Lewis is about a hundred miles; which distance they descended in seven days. The navigation was greatly impeded by rapids, which they passed with more or less danger and difficulty; being greatly indebted to the assistance of the Indians, as they thankfully acknowledge. Sometimes they were obliged to unload their boats, and to carry them round by land. All these rapids are fishing-places, greatly resorted to in the season.
On the 17th of October (1805), having reached the junction of Lewis's River with the Columbia, they found by observation that they were in latitude 46° 15´, and longitude 119°. They measured the two rivers by angles, and found, that, at the junction, the Columbia is 960 yards wide; and Lewis's River, 575: but, below their junction, the joint river is from one to three miles in width, including the islands. From the point of junction, the country is a continued plain, rising gradually from the water. There is through this plain no tree, and scarcely any shrub, except a few willow-bushes; and, even of smaller plants, there is not much besides the prickly-pear, which is abundant.
In the course of the day, Capt. Clarke, in a small canoe, with two men, ascended the Columbia. At the distance of five miles, he came to a small but not dangerous rapid. On the bank of the river opposite to this is a fishing-place, consisting of three neat houses. Here were great quantities of salmon drying on scaffolds; and, from the mouth of the river upwards, he saw immense numbers of dead salmon strewed along the shore, or floating on the water.
The Indians, who had collected on the banks to view him, now joined him in eighteen canoes, and accompanied him up the river. A mile above the rapids, he observed three houses of mats, and landed to visit them. On entering one of the houses, he found it crowded with men, women, and children, who immediately provided a mat for him to sit on; and one of the party undertook to prepare something to eat. He began by bringing in a piece of pine-wood that had drifted down the river, which he split into small pieces with a wedge made of the elk's horn, by means of a mallet of stone curiously carved. The pieces were then laid on the fire, and several round stones placed upon them. One of the squaws now brought a bucket of water, in which was a large salmon about half dried; and, as the stones became heated, they were put into the bucket till the salmon was sufficiently boiled. It was then taken out, put on a platter of rushes neatly made, and laid before Capt. Clarke. Another was boiled for each of his men. Capt. Clarke found the fish excellent.
At another island, four miles distant, the inhabitants were occupied in splitting and drying salmon. The multitudes of this fish are almost inconceivable. The water is so clear, that they can readily be seen at the depth of fifteen or twenty feet; but at this season they float in such quantities down the stream, and are drifted ashore, that the Indians have nothing to do but collect, split, and dry them. The Indians assured him by signs that they often used dry fish as fuel for the common occasions of cooking. The evening coming on, he returned to camp.
Capt. Clarke, in the course of his excursion, shot several grouse and ducks; also a prairie-cock, – a bird of the pheasant kind, about the size of a small turkey. It measured, from the beak to the end of the toe, two feet six inches; from the extremity of the wings, three feet six inches; and the feathers of the tail were thirteen inches long. This bird we have seen nowhere except upon this river. Its chief food is the grasshopper, and the seeds of wild plants peculiar to this river and the Upper Missouri.
ADVENTURE OF CAPT. CLARKE
Oct. 19. – Having resumed their descent of the Columbia, they came to a very dangerous rapid. In order to lighten the boats, Capt. Clarke landed, and walked to the foot of the rapid. Arriving there before either of the boats, except a canoe, he sat down on a rock to wait for them; and, seeing a crane fly across the river, shot it, and it fell near him. Several Indians had been, before this, passing on the opposite side; and some of them, alarmed at his appearance or the report of the gun, fled to their houses. Capt. Clarke was afraid that these people might not have heard that white men were coming: therefore, in order to allay their uneasiness before the whole party should arrive, he got into the canoe with three men, and rowed over towards the houses, and, while crossing, shot a duck, which fell into the water. As he approached, no person was to be seen, except three men; and they also fled as he came near the shore. He landed before five houses close to each other; but no person appeared: and the doors, which were of mat, were closed. He went towards one of them with a pipe in his hand, and, pushing aside the mat, entered the lodge, where he found thirty-two persons, men and women, with a few children, all in the greatest consternation; some hanging down their heads; others crying, and wringing their hands. He went up to them all, and shook hands with them in the most friendly manner. Their apprehensions gradually subsided, but revived on his taking out a burning-glass (there being no roof to the lodge), and lighting his pipe. Having at length restored some confidence by the gift of some small presents, he visited some other houses, where he found the inhabitants similarly affected. Confidence was not completely attained until the boats arrived, and then the two chiefs who accompanied the party explained the friendly intentions of the expedition. The sight of Chaboneau's wife also dissipated any remaining doubts, as it is not the practice among the Indians to allow women to accompany a war-party.
To account for their fears, they told the two chiefs that they had seen the white men fall from the sky. Having heard the report of Capt. Clarke's rifle, and seen the birds fall, and not having seen him till after the shot, they fancied that he had himself dropped from the clouds.
This belief was strengthened, when, on entering the lodge, he brought down fire from heaven by means of his burning-glass. We soon convinced them that we were only mortals; and, after one of our chiefs had explained our history and objects, we all smoked together in great harmony.
Our encampment that night was on the river-bank opposite an island, on which were twenty-four houses of Indians, all of whom were engaged in drying fish. We had scarcely landed when about a hundred of them came over to visit us, bringing with them a present of some wood, which was very acceptable. We received them in as kind a manner as we could, smoked with them, and gave the principal chief a string of wampum; but the highest satisfaction they enjoyed was in the music of our two violins, with which they seemed much delighted. They remained all night at our fires.
AN INDIAN BURYING-PLACE
We walked to the head of the island for the purpose of examining a vault, or burying-place, which we had remarked in coming along. The place in which the dead are deposited is a building about sixty feet long and twelve feet wide, formed by placing in the ground poles, or forks, six feet high, across which a long pole is extended the whole length of the structure. Against this ridge-pole are placed broad boards, and pieces of wood, in a slanting direction, so as to form a shed. The structure stands east and west, open at both ends. On entering the western end, we observed a number of bodies wrapped carefully in leather robes, and arranged in rows on boards, which were then covered with a mat. This part of the building was destined for those who had recently died. A little farther on, limbs, half decayed, were scattered about; and in the centre of the building was a large pile of them heaped promiscuously. At the eastern extremity was a mat, on which twenty-one skulls were arranged in a circular form: the mode of interment being first to wrap the body in robes; and, as it decays, the bones are thrown into the heap, and the skulls placed together in order. From the different boards and pieces of wood which form the vault were suspended on the inside fishing-nets, baskets, wooden bowls, robes, skins, trenchers, and trinkets of various kinds, intended as offerings of affection to deceased relatives. On the outside of the vault were the skeletons of several horses, and great quantities of bones in the neighborhood, which induced us to believe that these animals were sacrificed at the funeral-rites of their masters.
In other parts of the route, the travellers found a different species of cemetery. The dead were placed in canoes, and these canoes were raised above the ground by a scaffolding of poles. The motive was supposed to be to protect them from wild beasts.
FALLS OF THE COLUMBIA
About a hundred and fifty miles below the junction of Lewis's River, we reached the Great Falls. At the commencement of the pitch, which includes the falls, we landed, and walked down to examine them, and ascertain on which side we could make a portage most easily. From the lower end of the island, where the rapids begin, to the perpendicular fall, is about two miles. Here the river contracts, when the water is low, to a very narrow space; and, with only a short distance of swift water, it makes its plunge twenty feet perpendicularly; after which it rushes on, among volcanic rocks, through a channel four miles in length, and then spreads out into a gentle, broad current.
We will interrupt the narrative here to introduce from later travellers some pictures of the remarkable region to which our explorers had now arrived. It was not to be expected that Capts. Lewis and Clarke should have taxed themselves, in their anxious and troubled march, to describe natural wonders, however striking.
Lieut. Frémont thus describes this remarkable spot: —
The Dalles. – "In a few miles we descended to the river, which we reached at one of its highly interesting features, known as the Dalles of the Columbia. The whole volume of the river at this place passes between the walls of a chasm, which has the appearance of having been rent through the basaltic strata which form the valley-rock of the region. At the narrowest place, we found the breadth, by measurement, fifty-eight yards, and the average height of the walls above the water twenty-five feet, forming a trough between the rocks; whence the name, probably applied by a Canadian voyageur."
The same scene is described by Theodore Winthrop in his "Canoe and Saddle: " —
"The Dalles of the Columbia, upon which I was now looking, must be studied by the American Dante, whenever he comes, for imagery to construct his Purgatory, if not his Inferno. At Walla-walla, two great rivers, Clarke's and Lewis's, drainers of the continent north and south, unite to form the Columbia. It flows furiously for a hundred and twenty miles westward. When it reaches the dreary region where the outlying ridges of the Cascade chain commence, it finds a great, low surface, paved with enormous polished sheets of basaltic rock. These plates, in French, dalles, give the spot its name. The great river, a mile wide not far above, finds but a narrow rift in this pavement for its passage. The rift gradually draws its sides closer, and, at the spot now called the Dalles, subdivides into three mere slits in the sharp-edged rock. At the highest water, there are other minor channels; but generally this continental flood is cribbed and compressed within its three chasms suddenly opening in the level floor, each chasm hardly wider than a leap a hunted fiend might take."
It is not easy to picture to one's self, from these descriptions, the peculiar scenery of the Dalles. Frémont understands the name as signifying a trough; while Winthrop interprets it as plates, or slabs, of rock. The following description by Lieut. (now Gen.) Henry L. Abbot, in his "Report of Explorations for a Railroad Route," &c., will show that the term, in each of its meanings, is applicable to different parts of the channel: —
"At the Dalles of the Columbia, the river rushes through a chasm only about two hundred feet wide, with vertical, basaltic sides, rising from twenty to thirty feet above the water. Steep hills closely border the chasm, leaving in some places scarcely room on the terrace to pass on horseback. The water rushes through this basaltic trough with such violence, that it is always dangerous, and in some stages of the water impossible, for a boat to pass down. The contraction of the river-bed extends for about three miles. Near the lower end of it, the channel divides into several sluices, and then gradually becomes broader, until, where it makes a great bend to the south, it is over a quarter of a mile in width."
After this interruption, the journal is resumed: —
"We soon discovered that the nearest route was on the right side, and therefore dropped down to the head of the rapid, unloaded the canoes, and took all the baggage over by land to the foot of the rapid. The distance is twelve hundred yards, part of it over loose sands, disagreeable to pass. The labor of crossing was lightened by the Indians, who carried some of the heavy articles for us on their horses. Having ascertained the best mode of bringing down the canoes, the operation was conducted by Capt. Clarke, by hauling the canoes over a point of land four hundred and fifty-seven yards to the water. One mile farther down, we reached a pitch of the river, which, being divided by two large rocks, descends with great rapidity over a fall eight feet in height. As the boats could not be navigated down this steep descent, we were obliged to land, and let them down as gently as possible by strong ropes of elk-skin, which we had prepared for the purpose. They all passed in safety, except one, which, being loosed by the breaking of the ropes, was driven down, but was recovered by the Indians below."
Our travellers had now reached what have since been called the Cascade Mountains; and we must interrupt their narrative to give some notices of this remarkable scenery from later explorers. We quote from Abbot's Report: —
"There is great similarity in the general topographical features of the whole Pacific slope. The Sierra Nevada in California, and the Cascade range in Oregon, form a continuous wall of mountains nearly parallel to the coast, and from one hundred to two hundred miles distant from it. The main crest of this range is rarely elevated less than six thousand feet above the level of the sea, and many of its peaks tower into the region of eternal snow."
Lieut. Abbot thus describes a view of these peaks and of the Columbia River: —
"At an elevation of five thousand feet above the sea, we stood upon the summit of the pass. For days we had been struggling blindly through dense forests; but now the surrounding country lay spread out before us for more than a hundred miles. The five grand snow-peaks, Mount St. Helens, Mount Ranier, Mount Adams, Mount Hood, and Mount Jefferson, rose majestically above a rolling sea of dark fir-covered ridges, some of which the approaching winter had already begun to mark with white. On every side, as far as the eye could reach, terrific convulsions of Nature had recorded their fury; and not even a thread of blue smoke from the camp-fire of a wandering savage disturbed the solitude of the scene."
The Columbia River. – "The Columbia River forces its way through the Cascade range by a pass, which, for wild and sublime natural scenery, equals the celebrated passage of the Hudson through the Highlands. For a distance of about fifty miles, mountains covered with clinging spruces, firs, and pines, where not too precipitous to afford even these a foothold, rise abruptly from the water's edge to heights varying from one thousand to three thousand feet. Vertical precipices of columnar basalt are occasionally seen, rising from fifty to a hundred feet above the river level. In other places, the long mountain-walls of the river are divided by lateral cañons (pronounced canyons), containing small tributaries, and occasionally little open spots of good land, liable to be overflowed at high water."
Cañons. – The plains east of the Cascade Mountains, through the whole extent of Oregon and California, are covered with a volcanic deposit composed of trap, basalt, and other rocks of the same class. This deposit is cleft by chasms often more than a thousand feet deep, at the bottom of which there usually flows a stream of clear, cold water. This is sometimes the only water to be procured for the distance of many miles; and the traveller may be perishing with thirst while he sees far below him a sparkling stream, from which he is separated by precipices of enormous height and perpendicular descent. To chasms of this nature the name of cañons has been applied, borrowed from the Spaniards of Mexico. We quote Lieut. Abbot's description of the cañon of Des Chutes River, a tributary of the Columbia: —
"Sept. 30. – As it was highly desirable to determine accurately the position and character of the cañon of Des Chutes River, I started this morning with one man to follow down the creek to its mouth, leaving the rest of the party in camp. Having yesterday experienced the inconveniences of travelling in the bottom of a cañon, I concluded to try to-day the northern bluff. It was a dry, barren plain, gravelly, and sometimes sandy, with a few bunches of grass scattered here and there. Tracks of antelopes or deer were numerous. After crossing one small ravine, and riding about five miles from camp, we found ourselves on the edge of the vast cañon of the river, which, far below us, was rushing through a narrow trough of basalt, resembling the Dalles of the Columbia. We estimated the depth of the cañon at a thousand feet. On each side, the precipices were very steep, and marked in many places by horizontal lines of vertical, basaltic columns, fifty or sixty feet in height. The man who was with me rolled a large rock, shaped like a grindstone, and weighing about two hundred pounds, from the summit. It thundered down for at least a quarter of a mile, – now over a vertical precipice, now over a steep mass of detritus, until at length it plunged into the river with a hollow roar, which echoed and re-echoed through the gorge for miles. By ascending a slight hill, I obtained a fine view of the surrounding country. The generally level character of the great basaltic table-land around us was very manifest from this point. Bounded on the west by the Cascade Mountains, the plain extends far towards the south, – a sterile, treeless waste."
The Cascades. – "About forty miles below the Dalles, all navigation is suspended by a series of rapids called the Cascades. The wild grandeur of this place surpasses description. The river rushes furiously over a narrow bed filled with bowlders, and bordered by mountains which echo back the roar of the waters. The descent at the principal rapids is thirty-four feet; and the total fall at the Cascades, sixty-one feet. Salmon pass up the river in great numbers; and the Cascades, at certain seasons of the year, are a favorite fishing resort with the Indians, who build slight stagings over the water's edge, and spear the fish, or catch them in rude dip-nets, as they slowly force their way up against the current."
We now return to our travellers.
INDIAN MODE OF PACKING SALMON
Near our camp are five large huts of Indians engaged in drying fish, and preparing it for market. The manner of doing this is by first opening the fish, and exposing it to the sun on scaffolds. When it is sufficiently dried, it is pounded between two stones till it is pulverized, and is then placed in a basket, about two feet long and one in diameter, neatly made of grass and rushes, and lined with the skin of the salmon, stretched and dried for the purpose. Here they are pressed down as hard as possible, and the top covered with skins of fish, which are secured by cords through the holes of the basket. These baskets are then placed in some dry situation, the corded part upwards; seven being usually placed as close as they can be together, and five on the top of them. The whole is then wrapped up in mats, and made fast by cords. Twelve of these baskets, each of which contains from ninety to a hundred pounds, form a stack, which is now left exposed till it is sent to market. The fish thus preserved are kept sound and sweet for several years; and great quantities of it, they inform us, are sent to the Indians who live lower down the river, whence it finds its way to the whites who visit the mouth of the Columbia. We observe, both near the lodges and on the rocks in the river, great numbers of stacks of these pounded fish.
Beside the salmon, there are great quantities of salmon-trout, and another smaller species of trout, which they save in another way. A hole of any size being dug, the sides and bottom are lined with straw, over which skins are laid. On these the fish, after being well dried, is laid, covered with other skins, and the hole closed with a layer of earth, twelve or fifteen inches deep. These supplies are for their winter food.
The stock of fish, dried and pounded, was so abundant, that Capt. Clarke counted one hundred and seven stacks of them, making more than ten thousand pounds.
THE INDIAN BOATMEN
The canoes used by these people are built of white cedar or pine, very light, wide in the middle, and tapering towards the ends; the bow being raised, and ornamented with carvings of the heads of animals. As the canoe is the vehicle of transportation, the Indians have acquired great dexterity in the management of it, and guide it safely over the roughest waves.
We had an opportunity to-day of seeing the boldness of the Indians. One of our men shot a goose, which fell into the river, and was floating rapidly towards the great shoot, when an Indian, observing it, plunged in after it. The whole mass of the waters of the Columbia, just preparing to descend its narrow channel, carried the bird down with great rapidity. The Indian followed it fearlessly to within a hundred and fifty feet of the rocks, where, had he arrived, he would inevitably have been dashed to pieces; but, seizing his prey, he turned round, and swam ashore with great composure. We very willingly relinquished our right to the bird in favor of the Indian, who had thus secured it at the hazard of his life. He immediately set to work, and picked off about half the feathers, and then, without opening it, ran a stick through it, and carried it off to roast.
INDIAN HOUSES
While the canoes were coming on, impeded by the difficulties of the navigation, Capt. Clarke, with two men, walked down the river-shore, and came to a village belonging to a tribe called Echeloots. The village consisted of twenty-one houses, scattered promiscuously over an elevated position. The houses were nearly equal in size, and of similar construction. A large hole, twenty feet wide and thirty in length, is dug to the depth of six feet. The sides are lined with split pieces of timber in an erect position, rising a short distance above the surface of the ground. These timbers are secured in their position by a pole, stretched along the side of the building, near the eaves, supported by a post at each corner. The timbers at the gable-ends rise higher, the middle pieces being the tallest. Supported by these, there is a ridge-pole running the whole length of the house, forming the top of the roof. From this ridge-pole to the eaves of the house are placed a number of small poles, or rafters, secured at each end by fibres of the cedar. On these poles is laid a covering of white cedar or arbor-vitæ, kept on by strands of cedar-fibres. A small distance along the whole length of the ridge-pole is left uncovered for the admission of light, and to permit the smoke to escape. The entrance is by a small door at the gable-end, thirty inches high, and fourteen broad. Before this hole is hung a mat; and on pushing it aside, and crawling through, the descent is by a wooden ladder, made in the form of those used among us.
One-half of the inside is used as a place of deposit for their dried fish, and baskets of berries: the other half, nearest the door, remains for the accommodation of the family. On each side are arranged, near the walls, beds of mats, placed on platforms or bedsteads, raised about two feet from the ground. In the middle of the vacant space is the fire, or sometimes two or three fires, when, as is usually the case, the house contains several families.
The inhabitants received us with great kindness, and invited us to their houses. On entering one of them, we saw figures of men, birds, and different animals, cut and painted on the boards which form the sides of the room, the figures uncouth, and the workmanship rough; but doubtless they were as much esteemed by the Indians as our finest domestic adornments are by us. The chief had several articles, such as scarlet and blue cloth, a sword, a jacket, and hat, which must have been procured from the whites. On one side of the room were two wide split boards, placed together so as to make space for a rude figure of a man, cut and painted on them. On pointing to this, and asking what it meant, he said something, of which all we understood was "good," and then stepped to the image, and brought out his bow and quiver, which, with some other warlike implements, were kept behind it. The chief then directed his wife to hand him his Medicine-bag, from which he brought out fourteen fore-fingers, which he told us had once belonged to the same number of his enemies. They were shown with great exultation; and after an harangue, which we were left to presume was in praise of his exploits, the fingers were carefully replaced among the valuable contents of the red Medicine-bag. This bag is an object of religious regard, and it is a species of sacrilege for any one but its owner to touch it.
In all the houses are images of men, of different shapes, and placed as ornaments in the parts of the house where they are most likely to be seen.
A SUBMERGED FOREST
Oct. 30. – The river is now about three-quarters of a mile wide, with a current so gentle, that it does not exceed a mile and a half an hour; but its course is obstructed by large rocks, which seem to have fallen from the mountains. What is, however, most singular, is, that there are stumps of pine-trees scattered to some distance in the river, which has the appearance of having been dammed below, and forced to encroach on the shore.
NOTE. Rev. S. Parker says, "We noticed a remarkable phenomenon, – trees standing in their natural position in the river, where the water is twenty feet deep. In many places, they were so numerous, that we had to pick our way with our canoe as through a forest. The water is so clear, that I had an opportunity of examining their position down to their spreading roots, and found them in the same condition as when standing in their native forest. It is evident that there has been an uncommon subsidence of a tract of land, more than twenty miles in length, and more than a mile in width. That the trees are not wholly decayed down to low-water mark, proves that the subsidence is comparatively of recent date; and their undisturbed natural position proves that it took place in a tranquil manner, not by any tremendous convulsion of Nature."
THE RIVER WIDENS. – THEY MEET THE TIDE
Nov. 2, 1805. – Longitude about 122°. At this point the first tidewater commences, and the river widens to nearly a mile in extent. The low grounds, too, become wider; and they, as well as the mountains on each side, are covered with pine, spruce, cotton-wood, a species of ash, and some alder. After being so long accustomed to the dreary nakedness of the country above, the change is as grateful to the eye as it is useful in supplying us with fuel.
The ponds in the low grounds on each side of the river are resorted to by vast quantities of fowls, such as swans, geese, brants, cranes, storks, white gulls, cormorants, and plover. The river is wide, and contains a great number of sea-otters. In the evening, the hunters brought in game for a sumptuous supper, which we shared with the Indians, great numbers of whom spent the night with us. During the night, the tide rose eighteen inches near our camp.
A LARGE VILLAGE. – COLUMBIA VALLEY
Nov. 4. – Next day, we landed on the left bank of the river, at a village of twenty-five houses. All of these were thatched with straw, and built of bark, except one, which was about fifty feet long, built of boards, in the form of those higher up the river; from which it differed, however, in being completely above ground, and covered with broad split boards. This village contains about two hundred men of the Skilloot nation, who seem well provided with canoes, of which there were fifty-two (some of them very large) drawn up in front of the village.
On landing, we found an Indian from up the river, who had been with us some days ago, and now invited us into a house, of which he appeared to own a part. Here he treated us with a root, round in shape, about the size of a small Irish potato, which they call wappatoo. It is the common arrowhead, or sagittifolia, so much esteemed by the Chinese, and, when roasted in the embers till it becomes soft, has an agreeable taste, and is a very good substitute for bread.
Here the ridge of low mountains running north-west and south-east crosses the river, and forms the western boundary of the plain through which we have just passed.3 This great plain, or valley, is about sixty miles wide in a straight line; while on the right and left it extends to a great distance. It is a fertile and delightful country, shaded by thick groves of tall timber, watered by small ponds, and lying on both sides of the river. The soil is rich, and capable of any species of culture; but, in the present condition of the Indians, its chief production is the wappatoo-root, which grows spontaneously and exclusively in this region. Sheltered as it is on both sides, the temperature is much milder than that of the surrounding country. Through its whole extent, it is inhabited by numerous tribes of Indians, who either reside in it permanently, or visit its waters in quest of fish and wappatoo-roots. We gave it the name of the Columbia Valley.