Lewis and Clark Crosses the Rocky Mountain Pass

The mountains were equally inaccessible; neither man nor beast could pass them, and therefore neither he nor any of his nation had ever attempted it.

Continuing The Lewis and Clark Expedition,
our selection from an essay published in Great Events by Famous People, Vol. 15 by Robert Southey published in 1905. The selection is presented in 6.4000000000000004 easy 5 minute installments. For works benefiting from the latest research see the “More information” section at the bottom of these pages.

Previously in The Lewis and Clark Expedition.

Time: 1805

A species of flax was observed here, which, it was thought, would prove a most valuable plant: eight or ten stems sprang from the same root to the height of two and a half or three feet, and the root appeared to be perennial. There were young suckers shooting up, though the seeds were not yet ripe, and they inferred that the stems, which were in the best state for producing flax, might be cut without injuring the root. The heat in these defiles was almost insupportable, and whenever they caught a glimpse of the mountain-tops they were tantalized with a sight of snow. One tremendous pass they named the “Gates of the Rocky Mountains.” For nearly six miles, the river, which was there three hundred fifty yards in width, flows between rocks of black granite, which rise perpendicularly from its edges to the height of nearly twelve hundred feet. Nothing, said they, could be imagined more awful than the darkness of these rocks. During the whole distance the water is very deep, even at the edges, and for the first three miles there was not a spot, except one of a few yards, where a man could stand between the water and the wall of rock. Several fine springs burst out from the chasms of the rocks and increase the stream; the current is strong, but they were able to overcome it with their oars, most fortunately, for it would have been impossible to use either the cord or the pole.

A great smoke was perceived the next day, as if the country had been set on fire — the Indians had heard a gun, and, believing that their enemies were approaching, made the signal of alarm and fled into the mountains. Captain Lewis, with Chaboneau, the interpreter, and two other companions, preceded the party now in search of the Shoshones. On August 1oth he came to a fork in the Jefferson, beyond which it was not navigable. The next day he perceived, with the greatest delight, a man on horseback, but the man, when they were within a hundred paces of each other, suddenly wheeled round, though every amicable gesture had been made to him, gave his horse the whip and presently disappeared. They followed his track till it was lost, and the next day, proceeding up the stream, they came where it was so narrow that one of the men put his foot across it, and thanked God that he had lived to bestride the Missouri. It was not long before they reached its actual source and drank of the fountain; a situation not altogether unworthy of being compared with that of Bruce at the fountain of the Abyssinian [Blue] Nile. Leaving this memorable spot they got upon the ridge which forms the dividing line between the streams that flow into the Atlantic and Pacific oceans, and there they drank of the waters which run to the Columbia or Oregon, the “Great River of the West.”

The fears and suspicions of the Shoshones, and the embarrassments of Captain Lewis after he had met them, and before his companions were arrived, form a very interesting part of his narrative. The two captains went now to the tent of Cameahwait, the chief of this tribe, and sent for Sacajawea to be their interpreter.

The accounts which the explorers received of the way before them were most discouraging. To follow the course of the water, Cameahwait said, was impossible, as the river flowed between steep precipices, which allowed of no passage along the banks; and it ran with such rapidity among sharp-pointed rocks that as far as the eye could reach it was one line of foam. The mountains were equally inaccessible; neither man nor beast could pass them, and therefore neither he nor any of his nation had ever attempted it. He had learned from some of the Chopunnish or Pierced Nose Indians,* who resided on the river to the westward, that it ran a great way toward the setting sun and there lost itself in a lake of ill-tasting water where the white men lived. Captain Clark, not relying upon this report, went with a guide to reconnoiter the country, and found it equally impracticable to keep the course of the river or cross the mountains in the same direction. The guide, however, said there was a way to some Indian settlements on another river, which was also a branch of the Oregon [Columbia]. The Shoshones all denied this, which was imputed to their desire of keeping among them strangers so able to protect them and so well stocked with valuable commodities; they sold them, however, horses enough for the party, and the adventurers began their journey on August 30th.

[* The Nez Percés, a tribe to later become famous under Chief Joseph.-—ED.]

They suffered dreadfully from fatigue and hunger; game was so scarce that they were obliged to feed upon their horses; their strength began to fail them; most of the men were now complaining of sickness, and having reached a settlement of the Chopunnish on the Kooskooskee, they determined to build canoes there. The labor which the men had gone through in the latter part of their way up the Missouri had made them desirous of travelling on horseback, but they now more gladly returned to their river navigation. September 25th they began to build eight canoes, and having entrusted their remaining horses to the Chopunnish, and buried the saddles in a cache, they embarked on October 7th, accompanied by two chiefs.

On November 2nd they perceived the first tide-water; four days afterward they had the pleasure of hearing a few words of English from an Indian, who talked of a Mr. Haley as the principal trader on the coast; and on the 7th a fog clearing off gave them a sight of the ocean. They suffered greatly at the mouth of the river. At one place where they were confined two nights by the wind, the waves broke over them, and large trees which the stream had brought down were drifted upon them, so that with their utmost vigilance they could scarcely save the canoes from being dashed to pieces. Their next haven was still more perilous; the hills rose steep over their heads to the height of five hundred feet; and as the rain fell in torrents, the stones upon their crumbling sides loosened, and came rolling down upon them. The canoes were, in one place, at the mercy of the waves, the baggage in another, and the men scattered upon floating logs or sheltering themselves in the crevices of the rocks and hillside.

James Davie Butler began here. Robert Southey began here.

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