Journal of Western Travel
by John McTurk Gibson
edited by Weldon Hoppe
June 18th, 1859 -- Powell and I started up the creek this morning on a hunting expedition, followed it some 8 or 9 miles, got completely walled in with mountains, struck for a deep gorge in one of them, where we thought our course lay, travelled about 12 miles, suffered greatly for want of water; found a large creek with a current swift as a mill tail, followed it for six miles down through the mountains, wading through it up to our middles over 20 times, clambering, slipping, sliding, rolling, and tumbling on precipices inaccessible to any thing but mountain sheep, another six miles down the creek luckily brought us to camp, having actually travelled 33 miles (Powell puts it down at 40). We hunted faithfully all day, and only saw one deer which I shot at and missed about a mile from camp. We are both pretty well used up, and having fasted all day, I am so d----d hungry I can't write any more, so here we are, two months on the road.
Travelled twenty miles. We have had hilly roads. We are in camp by a large creek. I and Gibson have been hunting all day. We have travelled all of thirty-five miles. We arrived at dark to camp and are as tired as the bill calls for. We passed over the roughest and stoniest country I ever saw. We came in on the same creek that we are camped on. We waded it no small number of times up to our middles. In some places the creek runs through the rock forming allmost perpendicular walls two hundred feet high and in one of the remotest places the beavers were doing their work. This creek had cut a tunnel under a hill about twenty five feet wide by ten in depth. On the head of this creek we saw snow. We found plenty of water. Gibson and I got separated, I fearing he had fallen prey to the Indians fired my rifle but got no reply and when I arrived at camp I found him. He had just finished his supper for which we had a keen appetite, having eaten but two buiscuits since morning. We crossed a small creek this morning.
Copyright © 1997 Weldon Hoppe