The Slower Road

When we last checked in with Mr. Johnson, he’d been obliged to camp for the night at a post office, as the nearby river was too high to cross.

“On the morning of the 20th, I was up in due season and made ready to move on. I went down to the river to see how it looked and found it about the same as yesterday. I turned back rather blue, and went to the post office, where I found the proprietor, to whom I remarked, ‘I have been to the river; but saw no change in its condition. What can I do? My only chance is to go back and ford the river.’ ‘The river can be forded, but it will be a hard job. It is a deep and powerful current; you may be able to ford it, but you should not be alone,’ she answered.

“As we were talking, three teams came up to where we were and the drivers asked the road to Green River City. The postmistress said to me, ‘Now is your time.’ The teamsters were answered, ‘There are two roads: one you can’t go and the other you can if you dare ford the river.’ ‘Which road is that?’ asked the teamsters. ‘The left road.’ ‘What is the matter with the other way?’ they asked. ‘A heavy wash-out; a bridge to be built before it can be traveled. Rivers and creeks are very high, it seems.’ ‘They are high; we are on our way to Green River City, and still further east across the plains,’ said the teamsters. ‘I came to the river yesterday but found it so high I dared not cross, and came here to take this road, but find it impassable, so here I am as you see,’ I said. ‘Get ready and go with them and cross as they do,’ said the postmistress.

“We all went back to the river, and as we got there saw on the opposite side a herd of horses with three men in charge of them. They rode up to the creek, looked at it a moment and then rode down the bank and over the opposite — in no time. ‘That was quickly done,’ I said. ‘How shall I get across with my carriage?’ I asked. ‘Drive down into the river, that is the way to cross; you can’t do it while on that bank,’ said one of the horsemen. ‘If you will ride across, I will follow you,’ I said.

“He rode down into the river and I followed close after him and got across all right, but my wagon was full of water, but it soon ran out. I went on and did not stop to see how the three teams got across. In crossing, my feed got wet, but it did no other damage.” …

to be continued …

It would seem that I left you hanging last week, wondering whether Mr. Johnson would be able to cross the river …

“On the morning of the 19th, instead of river being lower, it had risen two feet. Just across the river, not more than four rods, was the railroad. As the water was higher, I concluded to turn back to a road that led to a railroad station, which I had noticed the day before. I had just got ready to return when I noticed a hand-car coming up the railroad track, with several men on it. I signaled them to stop, which they did, and inquired the distance to the station. They answered, ‘About four miles.’ ‘I came here yesterday and finding the river high, I dared not cross it.’ ‘It is very high; never saw it so high before, you had better go back to the station and take the road to Fort Bridges, you there cross the same river over a bridge, about a mile from the station,’ one of the men answered.

“I went back to the station, and on my way I came to a small village. The first building I came to was a store and post office. I introduced myself to a woman who proved to be the postmistress, relating my travels from California to this place, and telling her that ‘yesterday I came to a river about four miles below, but finding it very high, dared not cross and remained overnight, hoping that the waters would be lower in the morning, but instead they were higher, and so I was advised to take this road to Fort Bridges.’ ‘Well, but I don’t know but the bridge on this road has been carried away. I will take my horse and carriage and we will go see,’ said the postmistress. We went to the river and found the bridge all right, but the road had been washed away and the river had made a new bed. Just above the bridge there is a bend in the river which was full and overflowing, so that the waters washed out a new passage. We turned back and reported the condition of the road, and that it looked as if several days would pass before travel could be renewed. When we got back, the postmistress told me to take my horse from my carriage and put her and the cow in the barn and give them some hay, as I might have to stop several days.”

… continued from yesterday’s post …

“On the morning of the 18th I was up and around early, getting ready to go on and about six o’clock broke camp for Muddy Creek, which I reached about ten o’clock. This creek is about four rods across; had it been six, it would have been much better to cross. A large body of water flows past and its banks are full and overflowing. A short distance below the ford, there is a bend in the river which sets the water back, making the ford deep, with a strong current.

“It was discouraging; I felt blue and being all alone I was disheartened. In order to ascertain the depth of the water, I took out my horse, got on to her back and made an attempt to cross, but she would not go into the water. I made several attempts, but with no further success. It was a warm day and I remembered what the man said at Evanston: ‘The warmer the day, the higher the river.’ I went back to my wagon, removed the harness and turned the horse loose, the cow also. I returned to the river and made a mark, so that I could tell whether the water was rising or falling.

“I then returned to my carriage, gathered some wood and made a fire; made some coffee, boiled some eggs, and ate my dinner. Having some oil, I concluded to give my harness a good limbering up. Several times I went to the river to see whether the water was higher or lower. Before night, the river had fallen about four inches, and I thought that by morning I should be able to cross.”

… to be continued …

When we last checked in with Mr. Johnson, he had just forded the Bear River. Here’s what happened during the remainder of that day …

“Evanston is a thorough business town; one of more than ordinary enterprise. There are churches and schoolhouses, which are something new, I have not seen them with but one exception for a great many miles; yes, for hundreds of miles. There is more of New England in this place than in any other town I have passed through, with one exception, since leaving California. All trains stop here and time is allowed for dinner. The express from the East arrives at 1:50 p.m.; from the West at 3:50 p.m. On leaving here, after crossing the Bear River, my direction was eastward, the railroad on my right.

“After traveling about eight miles I came to another trail, but did not know whether I should take it or not. Having passed but one house since leaving in the morning, there was not much chance to get information. Looking around I could see but one way and that was to my right. On my left were mountains and on the right the railroad.

“I thought it safest to take the right-hand trail, and did so. I am now on a good trail, traveling at the rate of three miles an hour. About eleven o’clock I came in sight of a covered wagon; before reaching the wagon I saw two men with a herd of sheep and made for them. On reaching them I made known my business, relating my long story and said I had come from Evanston this morning, and on coming to two trails I took this one. ‘Am I on the right trail to Green River City?’ ‘You are not; you should have taken the other trail,’ said the strangers. ‘I suppose I shall have to go back and take the other trail?’ ‘I think you had better go back and take the other trail. If you were acquainted with the surroundings, you might get through, but as you are a stranger it is doubtful if you could find the trail.’ ‘What is the time of day?’ I asked. ‘It is about noon. Stranger, stop and get some dinner with us, we will give you some mutton and your cattle some grain, that is the best we can do.’ ‘That is good enough, I will stop; such an invitation should not be passed by.’ My cattle were fed with grain, myself with mutton chop and at one o’clock I counter-marched back to the trail I should have taken, which if taken at first would have saved me five hours’ travel, and lost me a good dinner.

“This new trail is a good road. After traveling about the same length of time I came to a ranch, on approaching which I found two men present. After introducing myself to the gentlemen, I inquired of them whether I was on the right trail to the creek called the Muddy. ‘You are,’ they answered. ‘How far is it?’ ‘About two miles,’ they said. ‘Have you any objection to my company here?’ ‘Oh, no; not in the least,’ they answered. It was then 6 p.m., so I told them I would camp with them. I took the horse from the carriage and turned her loose; the cow I staked out. After supper I secured my cattle to their several posts, spread my blankets on the ground and went to bed.

“About midnight I was  awakened by the howling of dogs; they do duty at night and are good shepherds and no mistake. There are two animals that are very troublesome to sheep owners, the wolf and the coyote; they can smell sheep a very long way off, I am told.

“I will give you a description of a sheep ranch; there are two within two miles of where I am camped. This ranch is a long wagon, about eighteen feet long, by six and a half wide, covered with heavy canvas. In the front part is a stove suitable for cooking, with all the necessary utensils. In the center there is a table four feet long, and in the rear part there is a bed, with the necessary bedding. Here you have a house with three apartments: kitchen, dining, and lodging rooms. A man with two good horses will take this house to some secluded place suitable for sheep to graze and there stop. [Behind him] follow from one to five thousand sheep. During the day, sheep roam at large, grazing, and at night they are all gathered around this wagon, or ranch. Corn is fed to them, which keeps them well content. They understand that outside there is danger; four dogs do guard duty every day and night. This grazing belongs to Uncle Sam; he has thousands of them. The best part of this ranch is the house; it is on wheels and it can be taken where you please, one, five, or twenty miles. “

… Mr. Johnson “was up early on the morning of the 17th. I had fed my cattle and was greasing my carriage as the proprietor came to feed his team. Coming up to where I was he said, ‘Come, go with me and get some breakfast; a dish of hot coffee will make you all right for fording the rivers.’ I went with him and got breakfast, came back and made ready to start on my journey. I drove along to the river and soon the man came with his team and said, ‘How does it look to you?’

“I answered back, ‘How does it look to you?’ ‘This is all right, get on to your wagon and drive close up to mine, don’t be a bit afraid.’ He drove down into the river, I close up to him. The water was much deeper than I supposed it to be, and I thought my horse would go under. I dared not look back to see how the cow was getting along. I felt as if I was swinging around, but when I looked on the wagon ahead I was all right.

“After crossing, the man said, ‘This is the largest river you will have to ford. Green River you will have to cross on a boat; it cannot be forded this time of year. The next to ford is Muddy River, and muddy you will find it, and it is doubtful if you can ford it. Should it continue to be warm, it will cut the snow on the mountains and make the rivers much higher; that is the matter with the rivers at this time of the year. It is doubtful if you will be able to travel until the rivers fall.’ ‘How much shall I pay you for your kindness?’ I asked. ‘Not a dime,’ he answered. ‘But this has been a great favor to me, and I feel as though you ought to be rewarded.’ ‘It is all right now. If we were on the other side of the river, perhaps I would take something with you, but as we are, it is all right. I hope you will get along all right. Good morning.’ ‘Thank you, good morning,’ I replied.”