Cannibalism in the High Sierras

By James Creamwood

Donner Lake, was the scene of one of the most thrilling, heart-rending tragedies ever recorded in all of California's history. Interwoven with the very name of the lake is a tale of destitution, loneliness, and utter despair, which borders on the incredible. It was a story which became repeated in many a miner's cabin, by many a hunter's campfire, and in many a frontiersman's home, and everywhere it was listened to with bated breath.

• Language: English
• Publisher: James Creamwood
• Release date: Sep 6, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370048625

James Creamwood

The author wishes to keep his private life confidential and does not desire to reveal any information about himself at this time.

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Preface

The history of California is full of many tragic events and one of the most famous of these is the cannibalism that took place in the High Sierras. More terrible than fiction, this is the true story of the tragic sufferings endured by the Donner Party. The scenes of horror and despair which took place in the snowy Sierra in the winter of 1846-7, needs no exaggeration, or embellishment. From previously published works, from over one thousand letters written by the survivors, and from newspaper interviews given by the most important actors in this tragedy, the facts have been carefully researched and presented here for all the world to see.

New and fragmentary versions of this sad story have appeared almost every year for several decades after its unfortunate occurrence. To forever correct these distorted and fictitious reports--which have usually been sensationalized in the news articles from that time period--the survivors deemed it wise to provide the truth of what really happened. The truth is sufficiently terrible all by itself.

Where conflicting accounts of particular incident has been found, every effort has been made to make them harmonious and reconcilable. This book has been written with justice and impartiality in mind, and with strict adherence to what appears to be truthful and reliable. This is an honest effort towards telling the truth of these tragic events, and as such is given to the world.

Chapter 1

Located three miles from Truckee, Nevada County, California, is one of the prettiest and most picturesque lakes in all the Sierra. Above, and on either side, are high mountains, with castle-like granite crests, while below, at the mouth of the lake, a grassy, meadow widens out and extends almost to Truckee. The lake is three miles long, one and a half miles wide, and four hundred and eighty-three feet deep, at least it was before the great drought of recent years hit California.

Tourists and picnickers annually flock to its shores, and Albert Bierstadt (January 7, 1830--February 18, 1902) made it the subject of one of his finest paintings. In the summer, its willowy thickets, its groves of tamarack and forests of pine, are the favorite haunts and nesting places of such birds as quail and grouse. Beautiful, speckled mountain trout are plentifully and abound in its crystalline waters. A rippling breeze usually blows across its surface, but in calmer moments, it surface reflects the lofty, overhanging mountains, with its stately pines like a polished mirror.

When the railroad was being constructed, three thousand people resided on its shores; the surrounding forests resounded with the music of axes and saws, and the terrific blasts would explode in the lofty, overshadowing cliffs of the area. They filled the canyons with reverberating thunders, and hurled huge boulders high in the air over the lake's quivering surface.

In winter, the lake is almost as popular as it is during the summer. The shouts and laughter of skating parties, can be heard almost constantly. The lake forms the one of the grandest skating park on the Pacific Coast.

Yet this same location here at Donner Lake, was the scene of one of the most thrilling, heart-rending tragedies ever recorded in all of California's history. Interwoven with the very name of the lake is a tale of destitution, loneliness, and utter despair, which borders on the incredible. It was a story which became repeated in many a miner's cabin, by many a hunter's campfire, and in many a frontiersman's home, and everywhere it was listened to with bated breath.

The pioneers of a new country are deserving of a niche in the country's history. The famed Donner Party was in a peculiar sense, pioneer martyrs of California. These hearty souls set out for California before the discovery of gold, before the highway was built across the continent, while untold dangers still lurked by the wayside, and unnumbered foes awaited these emigrants. No one but the bravest, adventurous, energetic and courageous, would undertake such a dangerous journey.

Back in 1846, comparatively few had dared attempt to cross the almost unexplored plains which lay between the Mississippi and the sunny young land called California. Therefore, a certain grandeur, and heroism seems to have cling to the men and women composing this party, even from the day they started their dangerous journey across the plains. California, with her golden harvests, and marvelous commercial facilities, may well enshrine the memory of these noble-hearted martyrs.

The States along the Mississippi River were only sparsely settled back in 1846, yet the stories about the almost tropical beauty of the land bordering the Pacific, tempted many people to leave their homes and set out on a perilous journey. These homes were situated in Illinois, Ohio, Iowa, Missouri, and Tennessee. Families from each of these States joined the wagon train and participated in its terrible fate.

The party was organized in Sangamon County, Illinois, by George and Jacob Donner and James F. Reed. Early in April, 1846, the party set out from Springfield, Illinois, and by the first week in May had reached Independence, Missouri. Here the wagon train was increased by additional members, and the party was made up of about one hundred people.

Every care was taken to obtain ample provisions and all necessary preparations made for the long journey. There was no doubt that it was going to be a long and difficult journey for many in the party. But, still there was great enthusiasm and eagerness with which these noble-hearted pioneers yelled out the cry of those times, Ho! for California! The road was difficult, and in places almost impassible; warlike Indians roamed the way, and death, in a thousand forms, lurked around in their march through the great wilderness.

The party consisted of fathers with their trusting families around them, mothers whose very lives were wrapped up in their children, men in the prime and vigor of manhood, young females in all the sweetness and freshness of budding womanhood, children full of glee and mirth, and babies feeding on maternal breasts. Lovers were there also, to whom the journey was tinged with rainbow hues of joy and happiness.

Many strong, manly hearts drew constant support and encouragement from the memory of dear ones left behind. The cloud of gloom which was finally settling down in a death-pall over their heads was not as yet perceptible, although, as we shall soon see, its mists began to grow almost at the start, in the delays which marked their tragic journey.

As they traveled along the trails, the party experienced awe and wonder while viewing the scenery along the line of the old emigrant road. Few descriptions had been provided about the route, but everything was novel and unexpected. In later years, the road would be widened and clearly marked where good camping grounds could be found.

The bleaching bones of cattle that had perished, or the broken fragments of wagons or articles that had been cast aside, were thickly strewn on either side of the highway. In 1846 the trail led through almost trackless valleys waving with grass, along rivers where few paths were visible, except those made by the feet of buffaloes and antelope, and over mountains and plains where little more than the westward course of the sun could be used to act as a guide for the travelers.

The travelers rarely meet any other humans on the trial, except for some bands of wandering Indians. Trading-posts were few and far between and stationed at only a few widely distant points along their route. Yet these first days were considered to be among the most peaceful and pleasant of their journey according to the accounts later provided by the survivors.

There were beautiful flowers located by the roadside, an plenty of game in the meadows and mountains. At night they would sing, dance, and put on plays. Several of the party had musical instruments, and many had excellent singing voices. During this time, the kindliest feeling and good-fellowship prevailed among the members of the wagon train.

The formation of the company known as the Donner Party happened purely by accident. The coming together of so many emigrants in one train was not something at occurred by any prior arrangement. Many of the those joining the Donner Party were not aware, at the outset, that there was such a large tide of emigration was heading to California.

In many instances small groups would hear about the colossal wagon train just ahead of them or just behind them, and by hurrying their pace, or stopping for a few days, sought to become a part of the great western movement. Many stayed with the train through a large part of the journey, but some left the train for some cause or other before reaching Donner Lake. Soon after the train left Independence it had between two and three hundred wagons, and after the journey started it stretched out for some two miles in length.

It is alleged by some of the survivors of the dreadful tragedy that certain impostors and lairs claimed to have been members of the Donner Party, and as such wrote untruthful and exaggerated accounts of what happened. While this is undoubtedly true, it is possible that some who claimed to be a part of the wagon train accompanied it during a portion of the journey and were really a part of the Donner Party. Bearing this in mind, it makes it less difficult to reconcile the conflicting statements coming from different narrators.

The members of the Donner wagon train numbered ninety in total, and were as follows:

George Donner, Tamsen Donner (his wife), Elitha C. Donner, Leanna C. Donner, Frances E. Donner, Georgia A. Donner and Eliza P. Donner. The last three were children of George and Tamsen Donner; Elitha and Leanna were children of George Donner by a former wife.

Jacob Donner, Elizabeth Donner (his wife), Solomon Hook, William Hook, George Donner, Jr., Mary M. Donner, Isaac Donner, Lewis Donner and Samuel Donner. Jacob Donner was a brother of George; Solomon and William Hook were sons of Elizabeth Donner by a former husband.

James Frazier Reed, Margaret W. Reed (his wife), Virginia E. Reed, Martha F. (Patty) Reed, James F. Reed, Jr., Thomas K. Reed, and Mrs. Sarah Keyes, the mother of Mrs. Reed.

The two Donner families and the Reeds came from Springfield, Illinois. Also from the same place were Baylis Williams and his half-sister Eliza Williams, John Denton, Milton Elliott, James Smith, Walter Herron and Noah James.

The following individuals came from Marshall County, Illinois, Franklin Ward Graves, Elizabeth Graves (his wife), Mary A. Graves, William C. Graves, Eleanor Graves, Lovina Graves, Nancy Graves, Jonathan B. Graves, F. W. Graves, Jr., Elizabeth Graves, Jr., Jay Fosdick and Mrs. Sarah Fosdick (Graves). John Snyder also accompanied this family.

From Keokuk, Lee County, Iowa, came Patrick Breen, Mrs. Margaret Breen, John Breen, Edward J. Breen, Patrick Breen, Jr., Simon P. Breen, James F. Breen, Peter Breen, and Isabella M. Breen. Patrick Dolan also came from the same location.

William H. Eddy, Mrs. Eleanor Eddy, James P. Eddy, and Margaret Eddy were from Belleville, Illinois.

The following came from Tennessee came Mrs. Lavina Murphy, a widow, and her family, John Landrum Murphy, Mary M. Murphy, Lemuel B. Murphy, William G. Murphy, Simon P. Murphy, William M. Pike, Mrs. Harriet F. Pike (Murphy), Naomi L. Pike, and Catherine Pike. Another son-in-law of Mrs. Murphy, William M. Foster, with his wife, Mrs. Sarah A. C. Foster, and infant boy George Foster, were from St. Louis, Missouri.

William McCutchen, Mrs. W. McCutchen, and Harriet McCutchen came from Jackson County, Missouri.

Lewis Keseberg, Mrs. Phillipine Keseberg, Ada Keseberg, and L. Keseberg, Jr., Mr. and Mrs. Wolfinger, Joseph Rhinehart, Augustus Spitzer, and Charles Burger, were from Germany.

Samuel Shoemaker was from Springfield, Ohio, Charles T. Stanton from Chicago, Illinois, Luke Halloran from St. Joseph, Missouri, Mr. Hardcoop from Antwerp, in Belgium, Antoine from New Mexico. John Baptiste was a Spaniard, who joined the train near the Santa Fe trail, and Lewis and Salvador were two Indians, who had been sent out from California by Captain Sutter.

The Breens joined the company at Independence, Missouri, and the Graves family caught up with the train one hundred miles west of Fort Bridger. Each family, prior to joining the train, had there own individual stories to tell. For example, William Trimble, who was traveling with the Graves family, was killed by the Pawnee Indians about fifty miles east of Scott's Bluff.

Trimble left behind a widow and two or three children. The grieving wife and some of her relatives were so disheartened by what had happened, and by the fact that many of their cattle had been stolen by the Indians, that they decided to turn back to the homes from where they had started their journey.

An amusing incident was told in the Healdsburg (Cal.) Flag, by Mr. W. C. Graves, of Calistoga, which occurred soon after his group left St. Joseph, Missouri. It happened on the fourth night out, when Mr. Graves and several others were assigned to stand guard duty. The greatest fear of the emigrants during those days was Indians.

Both the Sioux, the Pawnees, and the Snakes were powerful warlike tribes, who were jealous, revengeful, and merciless toward the whites. That night a mysterious fire somehow started in the prairie grass about half a mile from where the wagon train was camped. There was a west wind which was blowing fierce and strong, which carried the flames in great surging gusts through the tall prairie grass.

There was a resin weed which grew in bunches in that part of the country, generally attaining a height of four to five feet. The night was very dark, and these weeds could be seen standing between the fire and the guards. As the flames burned past the weeds, the impression was very naturally created on the mind that the weeds were moving in the opposite direction.

This optical illusion caused some of the guards to think that the Indians had set fire to the grass, and were moving in large numbers between them and the fire with intentions of surrounding them, stampeding the cattle, and massacring the all of the whites. The man next to Mr. Graves saw what he thought was the enemy, and rushed breathlessly to warn his comrades.

Hardly had Mr. Graves calmed the man down before it became evident that a general alarm had been spread in the camp. Two other guards thought that they too had seen the Indians, and the aroused camp marched out to do battle with the imaginary foe, while armed to the teeth. It was a big joke, but it was some time before those scared travelers heard the last of the resin Indians.

Before reaching Salt Lake, death only came once to the joyous Donner company once. It happened near the present site of Manhattan, Kansas, when Mrs. Sarah Keyes passed away. This woman was the mother of Mrs. J. F. Reed, and had reached the rip old age of ninety. Her aged body and poor health could stand the fatigues and exposure of the trip, and on May thirtieth, they laid her to rest.

Mrs. Keyes was buried on a beautiful knoll overlooking the valley in a coffin carefully constructed from the trunk of a cottonwood tree. A large old oak guarded the lonely grave of the fragile old woman who was spared from watching the misery which lay in store for her loved ones. If those who performed the last sad rites had caught sight of the horrors awaiting the wagon train, they would have known how fortunate it was that God had mercy on the elderly woman and took her before tragedy struck.

Chapter 2

The following letters give an interesting glimpse of the first portion of the journey. They were written by Mrs. Tamsen Donner, and were published in the Springfield (Illinois) Journal. There are allusions made in these letters to botanical research. Mrs. Donner, C. T. Stanton, and perhaps one or two others who were prominent individuals in the later history, were particularly fond of botany. Mrs. Donner created several valuable collections of rare flowers and plants. Her journal containing a full description of the contents of her botanical portfolios, were to have been published when she arrived in California.

Although the letters presented here have the same date, the letters were written at different times. The following article appeared in the Springfield Journal, on July 23, 1846:

Near the Junction of the North and South Platte, June 16, 1846.

My Old Friend: We are now on the Platte, two hundred miles from Fort Laramie. Our journey so far has been pleasant, the roads have been good, and food plentiful. The water for part of the way has been indifferent, but at no time have our cattle suffered for it. Wood is now very scarce, but buffalo chips are excellent; they kindle quickly and retain heat surprisingly. We had this morning buffalo steaks broiled upon them that had the same flavor they would have had upon hickory coals.

We feel no fear of Indians, our cattle graze quietly around our encampment unmolested.

Two or three men will go hunting twenty miles from camp; and last night two of our men lay out in the wilderness rather than ride their horses after a hard chase.

Indeed, if I do not experience something far worse than I have yet done, I shall say the trouble is all in getting started. Our wagons have not needed much repair, and I can not yet tell in what respects they could be improved. Certain it is, they can not be too strong. Our preparations for the journey might have been in some respects bettered.

Bread has been the principal article of food in our camp. We laid in 150 pounds of flour and 75 pounds of meat for each individual, and I fear bread will be scarce. Meat is abundant. Rice and beans are good articles on the road; cornmeal, too, is acceptable. Linsey dresses are the most suitable for children. Indeed, if I had one, it would be acceptable. There is so cool a breeze at all times on the plains that the sun does not feel so hot as one would suppose.

We are now four hundred and fifty miles from Independence. Our route at first was rough, and through a timbered country, which appeared to be fertile. After striking the prairie, we found a first-rate road, and the only difficulty we have had, has been in crossing the creeks. In that, however, there has been no danger.

I never could have believed we could have traveled so far with so little difficulty. The prairie between the Blue and the Platte rivers is beautiful beyond description. Never have I seen so varied a country, so suitable for cultivation. Everything was new and pleasing; the Indians frequently come to see us, and the chiefs of a tribe breakfasted at our tent this morning. All are so friendly that I can not help feeling sympathy and friendship for them. But on one sheet what can I say?

Since we have been on the Platte, we have had the river on one side and the ever varying mounds on the other, and have traveled through the bottom lands from one to two miles wide, with little or no timber. The soil is sandy, and last year, on account of the dry season, the emigrants found grass here scarce. Our cattle are in good order, and when proper care has been taken, none have been lost. Our milch cows have been of great service, indeed. They have been of more advantage than our meat. We have plenty of butter and milk.

We are commanded by Captain Russell, an amiable man. George Donner is himself yet. He crows in the morning and shouts out, Chain up, boys - chain up, with as much authority as though he was something in particular. John Denton is still with us. We find him useful in the camp. Hiram Miller and Noah James are in good health and doing well. We have of the best people in our company, and some, too, that are not so good.

Buffaloes show themselves frequently.

We have found the wild tulip, the primrose, the lupine, the eardrop, the larkspur, and creeping hollyhock, and a beautiful flower resembling the bloom of the beech tree, but in bunches as large as a small sugar-loaf, and of every variety of shade, to red and green.

I botanize, and read some, but cook heaps more. There are four hundred and twenty wagons, as far as we have heard, on the road between here and Oregon and California.

Give our love to all inquiring friends. God bless them. Yours, truly,

Mrs. George Donner.

The next letter was published in the same journal on July 30, 1846:

South Fork of the Nebraska, Ten Miles from the Crossing, Tuesday, June 16, 1846.

Dear Friend: To-day, at nooning, there passed, going to the States, seven men from Oregon, who went out last year. One of them was well acquainted with Messrs. Ide and Cadden Keyes, the latter of whom, he says, went to California. They met the advance Oregon caravan about 150 miles west of Fort Laramie, and counted in all, for Oregon and California (excepting ours), 478 wagons. There are in our company over 40 wagons, making 518 in all, and there are said to be yet 20 behind. To-morrow we cross the river, and, by reckoning, will be over 200 miles from Fort Laramie, where we intend to stop and repair our wagon wheels. They are nearly all loose, and I am afraid we will have to stop sooner, if there can be found wood suitable to heat the tires. There is no wood here, and our women and children are out now gathering buffalo chips to burn, in order to do the cooking. These chips burn well.

Mrs. George Donner.

Some members of the Donner Party celebrated the Fourth of July, 1846 at Fort Laramie. After arriving there on the evening of the third, they setup camp somewhat earlier than usual, and prepared a large dinner to celebrate the Fourth. A large party of Sioux who were on the war-path against the Snakes or Pawnees were at the Fort.

The Sioux were, perhaps, the most warlike and aggressive Indian nation on the great prairies, and when dressed in their war paint and mounted on their horses, presented a truly imposing appearance. The utmost friendliness prevailed during this time, and there was a mutual interchange of gifts and genial courtesies.

When the Donner Party resumed their march, and had journeyed half a day from the Fort, they were overtaken and escorted for quite a distance by about three hundred young warriors. The Indians rode in pairs alongside the train in true military fashion. Finally stopping, they opened ranks; and as the wagons passed through, each warrior held in his mouth a green twig or leaf, which was said to represent peacefulness and good intentions.

The wagon train was never seriously molested by the Sioux. However, on one instance, about fifty warriors on horseback surrounded a part of the train, in which the Graves family resided. While generally friendly, a few of the wilder Indians persisted in attempting to steal, or take by force, trivial articles which struck their fancy.

The main body of Indians were camped about half a mile away, and when the annoyances became too troublesome, W. C. Graves mounted his horse, rode to the Indian encampment, and notified the Chief about the actions of his tribe. Grabbing an old-fashioned single-barreled shotgun, the Chief sprang upon his horse and raced over the plains toward the emigrant wagons.

When he got within about a hundred yards of the train he attracted attention by giving a loud Indian whoop, which was so full of rage that the startled warriors there stopped what they were doing and scattered in every direction like frightened quail. One of the Indians was a little tardy in mounting his horse, and as soon as the Chief got within range, the shotgun was leveled and discharged fully at the unruly red man.

Three of the lead buckshot entered the pony's side and one grazed the warrior's leg. As if satisfied that his orders to treat the whites in a friendly manner would not be disregarded again, the Chief wheeled his horse about, and in the most grave and stately manner rode back to his camp site.

On another occasion, a very beautiful young woman named Mary Graves, was riding on horseback accompanied by her brother. They were a little behind the train, when a band of Sioux Indians passing by, became enamored with the maiden, and offered to purchase her. The Indians made a very handsome offer, but the brother was not willing to give up his sister to them. This caused one of the Indians to seize the bridle of the girl's horse and attempt to led her away as his captive. Perhaps this attempt was made half in jest. However, the bridle was promptly turned lose when the brother leveled his rifle at the Indian's chest.

On July, 20, 1846, George Donner was elected Captain of the train at the Little Sandy River, and from that time on it was known as the Donner Party.

One incident, that was not all that unusual for a trip across the plains, was described in a letter written by C. T. Stanton to his brother, Sidney Stanton. The incident alludes to is the unfriendliness and lack of harmony so likely to exist between different companies, and between members of the same company. The following is taken from one of Mr. Stanton's letters:

At noon we passed Boggs' company on the Sweetwater; a mile further up the river, Dunlavy's; a mile further, West's; and about two miles beyond that, was Dunbar's. We encamped about half way between the two latter. Thus, within five miles were encamped five companies. At Indian Creek, twenty miles from Independence, these five companies all constituted one, but owing to dissensions and quarreling they became broken into fragments. Now, by accident, we all again once more meet and grasp the cordial hand; old enmities are forgot, and nothing but good feeling prevails. * * * * * The next morning we got rather a late start, owing to a difference of opinion arising in our company as to whether we should lie by or go ahead. Those wishing to lie by were principally young men who wished to have a day's hunting among the buffaloes, and there were also a few families out of meat who wished to lay in a supply before they left the buffalo country. A further reason was urged that the cattle were nearly fagged out by hard travel, and that they would not stand the journey unless we stopped and gave them rest. On the other side it was contended that if we stopped here the other companies would all get ahead, the grass would all he eaten off by their thousand head of cattle, and that consequently, when we came along, our cattle would starve. The go-ahead party finally ruled and we rolled out.

As will soon be seen, the dissensions existing in the company, and the petty differences of opinion, were the fundamental causes of the calamitous problems which befell the Donner Party.

When the company drew near Fort Bridger, Edward Breen's leg was broken when he fell from a horse. His mother refused to allow them to amputate, or rather she left the decision up to Edward's decision, who refused to have the operation performed. Contrary to expectations, the bone knitted quickly, and in a month he was able to walk around without a crutch.

When the travelers arrived at Fort Bridger, which was at that time only a small trading post, the party heard about a new route which ran through Salt Lake. This route passed along the southern shore of the Lake, and rejoined the old Fort Hall emigrant road on the Humboldt. It was claimed that this trail would shorten the distance three hundred miles.

The new route was known as the Hastings Cut-off, and was named after the famous Lansford W. Hastings, who was even then guiding a small group over that same trail. The large trains halted for three or four days at Fort Bridger, while debating which course to take. It was claimed that but for the advice of Bridger and Vasquez, who were in charge of the fort, the entire wagon train would have continued on by the more familiar route. These men had a direct interest in the Hastings Cut-off, since they furnished the emigrants with supplies, and had employed Hastings to guide the first group over the road to Salt Lake.

After deliberation, the members of the wagon train was divided, with the greater majority wanting to take what was considered the safer route by Fort Hall. In total eighty-seven people decided to take the Hastings Cut-off. Their names are included in the ninety mentioned in the preceding chapter, however, remember that Mrs. Sarah Keyes had died, and that Lewis and Salvador had not yet became members of the party.

For several days the travelers journeyed without much difficulty. They finally reached the Weber River which was located near the head of the well-known Weber Canyon. When they made the first crossing of this river, August the third, they discovered a letter from Hastings stuck in the split of a stick, informing them that the road leading down Weber Canyon was in a terrible condition, and that it was doubtful that the sixty-six wagons which L. W. Hastings was then guiding through the canyon would ever succeed in reaching the plain beyond.

In the letter, Hastings advised all travelers to avoid the canyon road, and take a route over the mountains which he only vaguely described. In order to obtain more information, and, if possible, to induce Hastings to return and act as their guide, Messrs. Reed, Stanton, and Pike were sent ahead to catch up with him and the party he was leading.

This was accomplished after a very fatiguing trip, which so exhausted Stanton and Pike's horses that these men were unable to return to the Donner Party. Hastings was finally overtaken at a point near the southern end of Great Salt Lake, and came back with Reed to the foot of the bluffs overlooking what is the present day city of Salt Lake.

Here he insisted that he had to return to the group he was guiding, and despite the urgent pleas of Mr. Reed, who decided that it was his duty to start back the first thing next morning. However, he finally consented to ascend to the summit of the Wahsatch Mountains, from where he endeavored, as best he could, to point out the direction in which the wagons should travel from the head of Weber Canyon. Mr. Reed proceeded alone on the trail indicated, taking notes of the country and occasionally hacking marks in the trees to assist him in retracing the course.

Mr. William G. Murphy stated that the wagons remained in the meadows at the head of Weber Canyon until Reed returned. They then learned that the wagon train which preceded them had been forced to travel very slowly down the Weber River, filling in many irregular places in the trail with brush and dirt. At last they reached a place where vast tall pillars of rock approached so closely on either side that the river had barely room to flow between, and here the water plunged over a precipice. It was an awful task to lower the wagons down this precipice.

The Donner Party unanimously decided it would be best to travel across the mountains in a more direct line toward Salt Lake. They soon found themselves among rolling highlands and small summit valleys on the divide between Weber River and Salt Lake. Following one of the