Mr. Johnson’s trek

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October 23, 2014

… and the next day on the road

Posted by Jennifer under early roads, history, Mr. Johnson's trek
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Mr. Johnson continued his tale from where we left him in yesterday’s post …

“On the morning of the 28th I was up again before it was light enough to travel. I gave my cattle grain, but they would not touch it they were so thirsty. As soon as light came I drove into the trail and moved on. I knew that my cattle must have water, so I drove on as fast as possible; after traveling about eight miles, we came to water, which I tested and found it fair water, so I gave to the cattle as much as they would drink. After which I gave them their grain, and while they were eating had a breakfast of crackers and milk. I did not stop long, but went on and about ten o’clock met a man on horseback, leading a pack-horse. ‘Good morning, stranger,’ I said. ‘Good morning, sir.’ ‘How far have you come this morning?’ I asked.  ‘About ten or twelve miles,’ he said. ‘Did your horses have grass last night?’ I asked. ‘No, not any; I should have stopped at the creek, there was grass there,’ he said. ‘How is the trail on ahead?’ I asked. ‘First best for me; I can go anywhere as I am, you can’t with your wagon.’ ‘Where are you going to?’ I asked. ‘I am going to California,’ he said. ‘California; I am just from there.’ ‘You from California; what, you have not come from California with that outfit?’ he asked. ‘I have; just as I am, and I am going East, to Massachusetts,’ I answered. ‘The devil you are. Well, I will give it up, if you have come so far, I think I ought to do as much; goodbye, stranger.’ ‘Goodbye, sir.’ We parted and went on, I saying, ‘Well, Fanny and Bessie, we must make that creek before night. There is grass; you did not get any last night, tonight you may get some.’

“On we went, a good trail and down grade; we are traveling at the rate of three miles an hour, and about four p.m., I made a stop of about thirty minutes, giving the cattle some grain, after which we went on. Talking to my horse I said, ‘Come, Fanny, do your best, it is a good road, you shall have grass tonight.’ I was crowding along as fast as I could, when looking off to my left, saw smoke, and soon I came to tracks of wagons and was sure there was a camp somewhere near. When the horse saw the tracks she stopped, looking around. I said, ‘Fanny, we will go in here and follow those tracks and see what we can find.’ Traveling around a bluff we came in sight of a camp — a tent and three wagons and eight horses; five men, a boy, two women, and a girl. As I went into the camp I called out, ‘Don’t be afraid, I have come to see who is here!’ ‘Come in, stranger; you are welcome,’ was answered. ‘I am going East and you are going West, I suppose. Can I stop with you tonight; or, in other words, can I go into camp here?’ I asked. ‘Yes, sir; you can,’ was answered.

“I detached the horse from the wagon and unharnessed her, turning her loose and she went rolling about for some time. I gave the cow the same chance, but she went for the grass. It is half-past six and I went to gather fuel for a fire. ‘Stranger, do your cooking by our fire; don’t trouble yourself in making a fire.’ I got my supper, such as coffee, boiled eggs, crackers, and milk. I brought in my cattle for the night, securing and giving them their grain, made up my bed, and went to rest.”

to be continued …

 

October 22, 2014

still on the road to Laramie

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About two months ago, I abandoned Mr. Johnson on the road to Laramie. And several people have asked me to please get back to his story, so …

“The morning of the 27th [of May 1883] found me up before there was any light. I turned the cattle loose for grass, greased my wagon, made a fire, boiled coffee and eggs, and opened a can of salmon. My breakfast being ready I brought in the cattle and gave them some grain, then I sat down to my breakfast to be ready to move onwards together. After breakfast, started onward, and having traveled about a mile came to a house. Here was a man, his wife, and two children. I inquired the name of this canyon. ‘It is called Miller’s canyon, stranger.’ ‘How far is it to Green River city?’ ‘Twenty-five miles, stranger.’ ‘How far to the next house?’ ‘I do not know the distance, but it is a long way; in fact, I never was east of here more than fifty miles, stranger.’ ‘How long have you been here?’ ‘Six years or more, stranger.’

“I left them and ascended the mountain, attaining its summit — traveling three-fourths of a circle in the distance of eight miles. About ten o’clock I passed a trail to my left and on a board nailed to a post I read, ‘To Soda Springs, crossing on Green River without Ferry.’ Went down the mountain and at its base I crossed a deep gulch on snow. A short distance from this gulch I came to a creek of good water. Here we stopped, my cattle took water and grain, myself and dog, bread, cheese, and cold coffee. We go on our road today, so far good, no rivers, creeks, or sloughs.

“The day is fast closing; it is time we should have come to grass. I have traveled all day and seen none; we must go into camp without water or grass. I spoke to my horse, ‘Fanny, we will go no further today; we have no grass or water, you will be obliged to eat your grain without.’ It is hard, plenty of grass and water one day and none the next. I drove into the sage bush, just out of the trail, and stopped. Fed my cattle with grain, spread my blankets on the ground and laid down for the night, but could not go to sleep. I would lay awhile and then get up and talk to my cattle and then lay down again, but could not drop off to sleep. Several times I got up and laid down again, and after a while I dropped off to sleep, not knowing it at the time.”

to be continued …

 

August 21, 2014

… and on the road toward Laramie

Posted by Jennifer under history, horses & driving, Mr. Johnson's trek
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Checking in with Mr. Johnson the next morning …

“On the morning of the 26th I left Green River city for Laramie, where I arrived on the 10th of June.

“Leaving [Green River] city I followed the railroad to Rock Springs, where I left it and did not see it again until arriving in Laramie. After leaving the city and having traveled about six miles, I came to Bitter Creek river. The waters are said to be poisonous and cattle are not allowed to drink its waters. In fording this river, my cattle were not dry, so did not attempt to drink.

“About twelve o’clock I made Rock Springs, which is a telegraph station. Here I made a short stop, giving water and grain to the cattle and took a dish of cold coffee and crackers myself. Here I leave the railroad for a long time. About four miles or more from here, I met an ox team, accompanied by two men, and inquired if I was on the right trail for Laramie. ‘You are not; you should have taken the other trail,’ they said. ‘Then I shall have to go back and take the other trail?’ I said. ‘No, go on a little further and turn to your left, you will come into the trail.’ I went on and, coming to the place, turned to the left, as I had been told, coming back to the trail all right, and about five o’clock came to a slough; it was an awful looking hole. After looking at it I got up on my wagon and drove over it all right.

“After a little while I came to another of the same kind, which I passed all right. Went on, coming to some grass, which was fenced in and some cattle feeding, and going on a little further came to a house and barn. After passing the house, we came to a good grass plat where I camped for the night. I turned my cattle loose to feed for themselves, while I gathered some fuel, made a fire, prepared some coffee and cooked some dried beef, partaking of an excellent supper. A good dish of coffee, well seasoned with milk and sugar, all alone, tastes good, you bet.

“After supper I brought in the cattle, gave them some grain and secured them for the night; spread out my blankets, laid down and allowed myself to go to sleep. Just think of it: in the dead of night to wake up and find yourself alone; then I have a long talk with my cattle. My dog, Bertie, is at all times with me in my bed.”

 

August 12, 2014

… and on to the Green River …

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Continued from yesterday …

“On the morning of the 25th I was up before the dawn of day, getting ready to break camp. As soon as it was light enough, I hauled out and went on. About eight o’clock I descended a steep bluff into a canyon and after traveling about a mile came to some grass; I stopped here, giving my cattle a chance at it. While they were feeding I gathered some fuel, made a fire and boiled some eggs for my breakfast. Having heard so much about Green River I was anxious to see it; so I got ready and went on.

“I am still in the canyon and ascending a heavy bluff and expect soon to reach the river, which I did at half-past eleven, and at twelve o’clock we cross Green River by the ferry boat. I went on down to the railroad bridge; this bridge spans the Bitter Creek. Here I went into camp, giving my cattle the last of 200 pounds of grain I had bought at Evanston, and at three o’clock I went into Green River City for grain and other things.

“I made inquiries if there were two roads to Laramie city, and was told there were: one following the railroad, the other the old emigrant trail, and I would do the best to take the emigrant trail; nine-tenths of the travel from Laramie coming by that trail. The railroad trail is not traveled enough to make it good, if traveled more it would be better and not as far that way. When the emigrant is in Laramie, they tell him to take the emigrant trail to Green River City. ‘What is the distance to Laramie by the old emigrant trail?’ I asked. ‘By the railroad it is two hundred and seventy-two miles, and by the emigrant trail it must be three hundred and twenty-five miles.’ ‘Can I get grain on my way?’ ‘No, you will have to buy here all you need on the way.’ ‘How about grass?’ ‘You will not find much grass, our spring has been so late and cold. It will take you twelve days at least to get to Laramie. On the last two or three days you may get grass, and as you get nearer to Laramie you will find it much warmer.’ ‘How much will you charge me for 100 pounds each of corn, oats, and barley?’ ‘I shall charge you six dollars for 300 pounds, that is the least.’ ‘Why didn’t you say seven dollars, you could have got it as quickly as six; you have it all your own way and you know we must have it. In Evanston, I only paid three dollars for 200 pounds. It came from Nebraska, right by your door, one hundred and twenty miles further. I suppose you only do business three months out of the twelve, which accounts for the high price.’ ‘You are right there, we do not have much trade after the emigrant season is over.’

“I bought the grain and paid for it and my wagon had 300 pounds more weight on it. The wagon itself only weighs 325 pounds; pretty slender for the Rocky Mountains. In my wagon there is a box a half foot deep, a half foot wide, and three feet long, water-tight, in which are clothing, tea, coffee, sugar, several kinds of canned meats, and some tools, such as a wrench, hammer, hatchet, saw, square, and many smaller tools. The weight of the whole being about 175 pounds; making a total of goods of 500 pounds and [with the added grain] 800 pounds for my horse to draw. When passing through creeks, rivers, and sloughs I get on and ride, thus adding 180 pounds more, for the horse to draw through and up the rivers and creeks.

“About six o’clock I returned to my camping ground, inspected my wagon and made the weak places stronger and more perfect. After everything had been done as I thought could be, to make it safer, I prepared for the night, securing my cattle to their posts, made up my bed, and went to rest.”

Did you catch the nugget that Mr. Johnson dropped while rattling off the weights of the various parts of his carriage? He’s been walking alongside for most of this trek!

 

August 11, 2014

leaving the Black Fork River …

Posted by Jennifer under early roads, history, horses & driving, Mr. Johnson's trek
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After his and the other travelers’ dramatic crossing of the Black Fork River, Mr. Johnson picked up his tale the next morning …

“On the 24th, on the banks of the Black Fork River, I was up making ready to move on. While getting my own breakfast I allowed my cattle free range of grass and then a feed of grain. I left camp about six o’clock; it was a fine morning as I left the Black Fork River, and having a good trail I went on my way with merry glee.

“About eleven o’clock we came to some good water where we stopped; I gave water and grain to my cattle and took a dish of cold coffee myself; this was all I cared for. I did not stop long and as my journey continued the road grew rougher. About three o’clock in the afternoon I met a train of six teams. I stopped and passed the compliments of the day, saying, ‘Gentlemen, where are you from and where going?’ ‘We are from Kansas and have not decided finally where to locate. We started, however, for Oregon, but it is a long road, and a rough one at that. Stranger, where are you from and where are you bound to?’ ‘I am from Ogden and going East.’ ‘How far East, we would like to know, stranger?’ ‘I can’t say for certainty, no more than you, but should I have luck, I may go as far as Massachusetts.’ ‘Massachusetts, the devil you are, that is almost the jumping-off place.’ ‘How far have you come today?’ ‘We have come from Green River City, about twelve miles I think.’ ‘How far is it to water?’ ‘About three miles, I should think.’ … After bidding each other goodbye, we went on.

“On coming to water, I gave my cattle water and grain and concluded to camp here for the night. My surroundings look rough, and not a house in sight. I gathered some sagebrush for fuel, made a good, rousing fire, got supper and made everything ready for the night. As I lay on my bed, to the right of me, I heard the whistle of an engine, then I knew that we were not far from the railroad. After a time, I was lost in a sound sleep.”

to be continued …

 

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