Explorations in the Upper Columbia Country [pp. 255-266]

Explorations in the Upper Columbia Country.
superstition has played its part. Some years
ago the dreadful scourge of small-pox swept
the valley, then thickly settled, carrying off
large numbers of Indians, whose numerous
burial places attest their deaths, and probably
hold out a warning sign to others. These
graves, which are rarely raised to a mound,
are surrounded by a rude log fence, and for
a headstone is placed a stick of wood. In
many of these enclosures, frequently seen
throughout the valley, I was told that there
were from ten to twenty bodies. The deaths
were so numerous and rapid that a separate
burial could not be given to each. It is not
to be wondered at that they hastily moved
from the Methow to the Okenagan, after having been the victims of such a terrible disease.
Clear and almost ice-cold streams, rising
far up in the mountains, and emptying into
the Methow, were crossed at intervals, and
their names, as given by the Indians, I will
mention. The Ni-mi-e-malk, Sa-ha-ne-tache-lo, Chee-whelch, As-chin-chin-natk, and
Ne-quam-tum. The last-named is the first
tributary of the Methow at its source, and
from the confluence of these a regular cahon
extends to their headwaters.
After running along the side of the cafion
for a few miles, the trail up the main branch
turns down to the water; and my guide said
we would have to proceed up the river bed,
which we could do at this season of low water. I, however, was looking for a practicable pass across the Cascade mountains, and
it was evident that it did not exist here, for
steep, rocky mountains enclose the river in
a narrow gorge, where travel is impossible
except in the river bed, and that only when
the river is low during a few months of the
year. Deer trails leading down to the river
were numerous, but no signs could be found
of any previous visitation by man. I therefore
retraced my steps to the junction of the Methow and Nequamtum, where I found the
Doctor, who, after proceeding several miles
up the latter stream, had arrived at the same
conclusions as myself in regard to crossing
the mountains at this point. We then turned
our faces towards the south, hoping to find
a pass from some point farther down the river. My guide said that he knew of no pass,
and fiuture events showed that none of a
practicable nature existed. Every small
stream was explored as far as possible, but
all ran into impassable caions near their
headwaters.
WAVe then turned our attention to another
feature of this country, Lake Chelan, which
forms part of the western boundary of the
Moses Reservation, and about which very
little was definitely known.
About eight miles up the Methow from
the point where we first reached it when
crossing over from the Okenagan, the river
Twitsp comes down from the mountains to
the west. It is very similar to the Methow,
although somewhat smaller; the scenery
throughout its narrow valley is wilder. Before reaching this stream on our way down
from the headquarters of the Methow, we
had struck farther back into the valley, to
ascertain the nature of the surrounding country. It was very fertile throughout, well timbered, and plentifully watered. Several lakes
of considerable size, at the headwaters of
small streams, were found, whose waters
were reported to be well stocked with fish.
Leaving the Methow and following the
course of the Twitsp, we experienced hard
travel through thick timber and around immense rock-slides, until, at a point about
fifteen miles from its mouth, the trail became
completely obliterated, and we followed the
blazes on trees made by a party the previous
year. The thick standing timber was certainly a sufficient barrier to progress, but the
fallen trees strewn in every direction across
our path added to our difficulties, and caused
many a wide detour to be made. The river
was at this point a regular mountain torrent,
and, dashing down over its rocky bed, sent
forth reverberations like huge waves breaking upon the sea-shore.
We did not care to meet with any grizzly
bears, and, fortunately, perhaps, were spared
an encounter; although the scratches on the
bark of trees where these creatures had
sharpened their claws, indicated that they
were near us. One night'scamp on the Twitsp
262
[March,