John Frost

THE DIFFERENT ROUTES TO CALIFORNIA, AND THEIR RESPECTIVE CHARACTERS.

The various routes taken by the emigrants to California have afforded almost as much matter for discussion as the territory itself. The shortest and most travelled route is that by way of the Isthmus of Panama; and of this we shall first give a description, with recommendations to travellers, and the experience of some who have taken that route to the "land of promise."

Both steam and sailing vessels are constantly engaged in carrying freight and passengers from the principal ports of the Atlantic States to Chagres, the principal port on the eastern coast of the Isthmus. Tickets which will carry passengers to Chagres, and, after crossing the Isthmus, from Panama to San Francisco, can be purchased in New York, from whence to Chagres, the passage generally occupies about eight days, and has been accomplished in seven. The harbor of Chagres is a small but good one, for vessels of less than two hundred tons burden. It is protected by hills on all sides and towards the ocean, by a beetling cliff, jutting out into the sea, on the summit of which is the ancient and somewhat dilapidated castle of San Lorenzo. At the base of this cliff is the channel which forms an entrance to the town. Ignorance of this fact caused the wreck of several of the vessels which went from the United States to Chagres soon after the receipt of the news of the gold discovery. The following is a description of Chagres and its inhabitants in the early part of 1849. It has since improved considerably, on account of the travel across the Isthmus.

"The first thing which struck our wondering gaze on entering Chagres, was its bee-hive appearance. It is a strange, fantastic, and oddish-looking town, situated in a deep, dark hollow or cove. It consists of some forty or fifty huts, with pointed palm-thatched roofs, and reed walls. Nor were the innumerable buzzards which were flying about or resting on the houses, together with the energetic gesticulation of the natives when in conversation, as we drew near, at all calculated to lessen the picturesque effect of a first view. The surrounding country was any thing but devoid of interest and beauty. All had a strange, equatorial look; while the green hills around, clothed with rich tropical verdure, and the graceful and shadowy palm and cocoanut, with other strange fantastic trees, together with the ruins of the large old Spanish castle, on the heights above the town, gave to the scenery a very beautiful and picturesque aspect.

"Most of us were soon ashore and rambling through the town. We landed at the beach, on some logs, which, during the rainy season, are necessary to preserve the pedestrian from a quagmire, in the midst of dense foliage that was here luxuriant to the water's edge, surrounded by about thirty canoes and some forty or fifty huge black fellows, mostly in the garb in which nature arrayed them. We passed on beneath a burning sun, which in the shade brought the thermometer to 90° of Fahrenheit. A majority of the natives are black, but some are of a deep copper or mulatto color. The thick lips and woolly head of the African; the high cheek-bones, straight hair, and dogged look of the Indian; and the more chisled features and finely expressive eyes of the Spaniard, are all here, though often so blended, that it is difficult to say to which race they chiefly owe their origin. In truth they are a mongrel race, but generally have the most magnificent, large, dark, expressive eyes I have ever seen. These, when in conversation, which is almost continual, they use to some purpose, while the incessant rapid clatter of their tongues, and their violent gesticulations and grimaces, are often quite ludicrous. The females, some of whom have rather pretty faces, and particularly fine eyes, were dressed out in the most tawdry finery, with divers furbelows, flounces, and ruffles, encircling the shoulders, where the dress begins, and terminating somewhere about or below the knee. Some of the younger ones were entirely model artiste, at least so far as their clothing was concerned, but the forms of most were rather indifferent. Many were sitting or lounging about the doors or in the cabins, eating tamarinds, oranges, and other fruit, surrounded by hairless dogs, pigs, naked children, turkey-buzzards, and some other little live stock, forming altogether quite a congruous and homogeneous mixture.

"In a Country like this, where the temperature is so nearly alike throughout the year, there is a natural tendency to indolence and sloth, and it is remarkable what an influence the climate exerts on the character of the people. Here nature with a bounteous hand spontaneously fructifies the earth, and the natives, with few wants to supply, pluck the fruit and are satisfied; and with few necessities for enterprise and industry, such is their love of indolence, that all the charms of existence appear to consist in dreaming away life in quiet and repose. Basking beneath a tropical sun, or listlessly reclining on nature's downy couch, days—years—are passed in drowsy languor and supine sloth.

"But the influx of men from rougher climes and bleaker regions will probably exercise a salutary influence, by showing them the advantages of industry and patient toil. Already they begin to perceive this, to some extent, and though such dear lovers of money, that in closing a bargain they will jabber their patois, or bad Spanish, with uncouth gesticulations, for half a day, the majority of them are unwilling to make any extra bodily effort to procure it; but when persuaded by liberal offers to undertake a task, it is astonishing with what dogged perseverance they will often pursue it, what weights they can support, and what toil they can endure."[14]

It is recommended that passengers from the States should remain as short a time in Chagres as possible. The exhalations from its malarious atmosphere are extremely prejudicial to the health of the new-comer.

From Chagres, the travellers proceed in canoes up the Chagres river, to Gorgona, a distance of about fifty miles, or eight miles further, to Cruces. The canoes are mostly owned by the natives, and the greatest care is necessary to get them to keep their agreement. The usual plan by which their services are secured, is this: A bargain is made with the owner of the canoe, stipulating for the necessary captain and poles-men, and then some of the party going up the river in the canoe, take possession of it, and maintain it, while one goes before the alcalde, and pays the whole amount agreed upon, taking a receipt in Spanish. This precaution is rendered necessary; the proprietor of the canoe returning the money to those who engaged it, on finding he can obtain a greater price from others. At the present time, vessels, steam and sailing, are being constructed at Chagres, for the passage up the river, the increase of the Isthmus travel rendering it both necessary and profitable.

The beauty of the country through which the Chagres river flows has been the theme of frequent praise. Its banks are filled with all the luxuriant verdure which tropical climes produce. The tamarind, the date, the pomegranate, the plantain, the banana, the cocoanut, the lime, the citron, and the pine apple, are abundant. Flowers of every hue send forth their fragrance upon the air, rendering its sweetness delightful to the senses. Orange groves are numerous, and the fruit is as plentiful as the apple of the Southern States of the Union. Mountains, hills, and valleys diversify the prospect, while the ear is filled with the melodious notes of thousands of birds, native of the tropics, their music contrasting with the discordant noise of the parrots, mackaws, and chattering monkeys. Such a scene is worth the travel to the Isthmus, and the toils sometimes endured in crossing it.

Several small towns and ranches are scattered along the banks of the river. The first is Gatun, ten or twelve miles above Chagres. About ten miles further is Dos Hermano; further on, PÛro Blanco, and PalenquillÁ last, about two-thirds of the way to Gorgona. These are stopping places for the canoes, where refreshments and supplies can be procured.

At night, parties that land are compelled to build fires to keep off the wild beasts and venomous serpents, which abound in the neighborhood of the river, and to disperse the myriads of insects with which the air teems. Alligators of a large size, are to be seen lying on the banks in the day time, basking in the sun. Above PalenquillÁ are some powerful currents, which it requires considerable toil to move against. The river is in some places a half a mile wide, and in others, not more than thirty yards. The boatmen are exceedingly indolent, and require constant driving and coaxing to keep them moving; but sometimes, when they are prevailed upon to go to work, they will exhibit an endurance and perseverance almost astonishing. They have been frequently known to work at the poles, pushing the boat along, for twenty-four hours, without rest. The difficulty of ascending the Chagres river, may be appreciated, when it is stated, that although Gorgona is only fifty miles from the town of Chagres, it frequently occupies as high as forty hours for the canoes to reach that place. Stoppages are, of course, numerous, both on account of the tiring of the boatmen and for refreshment.

"Gorgona is located upon a bend of the river, from which a fine view of the river and valley is obtained. The valley is here about five miles wide, the mountains rising from it in successive ranges, and with increasing elevations. It is an admirable location for a town, and must become one of considerable importance—especially should it be on the route of the proposed railroad across the Isthmus. It has a far better appearance than Chagres; the streets are laid out with some pretensions to regularity. It is the head of canoe navigation, and steamboats of light draft can approach it. The dwellings or huts are of a better class than those at Chagres; they have an unfinished Catholic church that looks rude and ragged, but nevertheless, it is a church. The carrying trade is now almost the only business pursued by its inhabitants; what they did before the gold of California began to invite a swarm of adventurers across the Isthmus, to the town is more than can be divined. Theirs must have been as near a pastoral or primitive life, as any that can be seen in our day. The soil is teeming with the evidences of its richness—inviting the hand of man to its cultivation, by showing what it is capable of doing without it—but it is undisturbed, save in a few stinted spots of less size than our ordinary kitchen gardens. All else is left to spontaneous production. They have herds of cattle; these, with game, flesh, fish, and fowl, easily procured, must have been their principal sustenance. But it is with them as with the rest of the world, wants increase with the facilities for gratifying them. They are rapidly changing their habits since they have an opportunity to earn money and luxuries, that they have been strangers to, are brought within their means and their reach.

During the dry season, which lasts from December till June, the road from Gorgona to Panama is generally preferred; at other times, the canoes proceed up the river about eight miles, to the town of Cruces, and take the road leading from that place to Panama. Each of these routes shall receive our consideration, and their respective advantages and disadvantages be set forth. It is advisable, that travellers should rest as short a time as possible at Gorgona, as accommodations are of very poor character. Mules and a small species of mustang are easily obtained, but the mule is far preferable. Some travellers find it a great relief to walk a part of the distance, and, with that intention, parties hire mules or horses in the proportion of two to every three travellers. The baggage will have to be placed under the charge of the native muleteers, but, from their observed habits of filching wherever they get a chance, it is advisable not to trust them out of sight. There are several places upon the route where refreshments can be procured; but most of the travellers start at daylight from Gorgona, and push directly through to Panama, in one day. This is the best mode of proceeding, if the fatigue is found to be endurable; for it is above all things important that in such a climate too great fatigue should be avoided. The following account of a journey to Panama by way of the Gorgona road, and descriptions of the road is from a recently published narrative:

"We arose from cot and hammock, flea-bitten, and but little refreshed, though ready to start on what we deemed our perilous journey across the Isthmus. Hour after hour elapsed, till the most pleasant part of the day was gone, and the sun shone with torrid fervor; but still our mules were not ready, our host keeping them back, as we afterwards learned, to obtain a higher rate. Annoyed beyond endurance at the delay, and the tardy movements of the worthless set around us, we scoured the town, and at length succeeded in obtaining four miserable-looking little animals at eight dollars a-piece. Another was still wanting, and, by an offer of ten dollars, I at length succeeded in getting a tolerably good one. Though so wretched in appearance, we found these animals capable of great endurance.

"Glad that the vexatious and irritating events of the morning, which the cupidity and dogged laziness of these slothful mongrels had produced, were happily ended, we hastily swallowed a cup of bad coffee, handed by a damsel nearly nude, and mounting our Rosinantes, we started at a brisk canter, beneath a broiling sun, while our guido, all stripped and on foot, trotted off in advance.

"For the first mile, the way was very pleasant over a nearly level plain, at the termination of which there were stronger indications of rougher riding, for we soon began to descend a nearly perpendicular precipice, the only pass, down which was a narrow mule-way, where, step by step, these animals had worn a passage, over rocks, loose stones, sand and mud. We at length reached the bottom of the ravine, and, crossing a brook, which in some parts was a wide and deep chasm, we commenced a toilsome ascent on the opposite side, over a similar pathway, surrounded by scenery of wild and unknown plants and trees, on the mountain and glen, through whose dense foliage a breath could scarcely penetrate. The fervent atmosphere produced an almost stifling sensation, while the deathlike silence that reigned throughout, disturbed only by the audible footfall of our animals, as we slowly wound around the tortuous ascent, made the journey peculiarly toilsome and solitary.

SONORIANS DRY-WASHING GOLD.

"For the first few miles I followed closely at the heels of our guide, and would often pause and turn to examine the apparently almost impassable route I had traversed, watch the progress of the rest of the party, and wonder at the security with which their cautiously-stepping and sagacious animals would gradually overcome seemingly insurmountable obstacles. These mustangs and mules, early trained to travel 'in the wild mountain track,' are capable of great endurance, and certainly possess much more knowledge than most of their riders, when exercised upon what they consider the safest and surest stepping-place, and best mode of proceeding. I urged mine repeatedly, to make him choose a path, which to all appearance was preferable to his own, but to no purpose. He would turn half round, and in a slow, solemn way, put his nose to the ground, and looking keenly about the place, would cautiously put one foot forward, then another, then a third and a fourth, when, poised on all drawn under him, and close together, he would have a better opportunity for further inspection, which having satisfactorily accomplished, another equally deliberate and cautious step would be made as before, down what, to all appearance, was an impracticable route, and so on, until the difficulty was overcome. Finding that he knew so much better than I did, how, where, and when he ought to travel, I invariably threw the reins to him, when hazardous passes or other obstacles were to be surmounted. The result was always fortunate. One or two of the party, however, were satisfied that 'horses should not have their own way,' and whipped and spurred theirs to such an extent, to compel compliance with their better judgment, that the issue was as I had anticipated. One was thrown over his horse's head into a mud puddle, and the other, with horse and all, stuck fast in a quagmire, from which it was not easy to extricate him. Should these lines ever meet the eye of those worthy gentlemen, I trust they will pardon the liberty I have taken in recording here their feats of muleship. It is true that mine stumbled on some loose stones once or twice, in descending hills, and my efforts alone with the reins saved both him and me from a fall; but for unmistakeable judgment in traversing these perilous mountain-passes, I must admit he proved himself the better of the two.

"Thus we trudged on, often over difficult, and sometimes dangerous ways. Occasionally we would have to go up or down, as the case might be, for nearly half a mile at one time, through a chasm or sluice, probably worn in the mountains by the torrents of water that descend during the rainy season. These gully-holes are often ten and fifteen feet deep throughout their entire extent, and the passes are so narrow, as barely to admit of one horse or mule passing through at a time; the rider, to avoid a severe contusion, or probably a broken limb, in turning the sharp angles, being compelled to place his feet as near the animal's head as possible, and in this manner he can ride in perfect safety, though some little management is requisite to maintain an equilibrium. Before entering these defiles, the muleteers shout at the top of their voices, and stop for a short time, continuing the shouting as they advance, to apprize others at the opposite extremity of the pass, that the way is already occupied. This is necessary and important, for if two on horseback were to meet in one of these narrow but crooked paths, the scene between the Quaker and Dandy would have to be re-enacted, for many newspapers would have to be read, and many segars smoked, before either could turn out of the way for his neighbor.

"Continuing on, we passed two or three hackalas, or huts, by the way, and after several brief but pleasant stoppages at the various brooks and mountain-rills, we at length came out on a beautiful undulating meadow, where picturesque villas and shadowy trees decked the verdant plain, and soon thereafter the towers of Panama were in view. The sun was just setting as we entered the suburbs, and a flood of purple glory rested on the sky, reflected back by the sparkling waters of the Pacific, which brought the distant mountains into bolder relief, and cast a deeper shadow through the twilight groves. Half an hour's ride over the paved street, brought us to the city, which we entered at the 'Gorgona gate,' passing through a heavy stone arch way, supporting a cupola, in which hangs the alarm bell mounted by a cross."[15]

Such is the character of the Gorgona road to Panama. With regard to the Crucis road, we may observe that it is a common practice, for most of those who take the Gorgona road in going to Panama, on their return, to take the Crucis road, no doubt hoping that the difficulties and toil to be encountered are less than those they know are to be met with upon the other. The following account of a return journey by way of the Crucis road, with the full character of the route, is given in the journal of a returned adventurer.

"I had passed three days in Panama; and, feeling desirous of continuing my journey, I had no sooner concluded this arrangement, than I got my mule saddled, and my box and carpet-bag packed in the regular Isthmus fashion. The mule I obtained, like most of his fellows, was little better than a mere skeleton; but still it was the best I could procure, and I was fain to content myself with it. Some of my friends endeavored to persuade me that it was better to proceed on foot; but I knew the muddy and stony nature of the road, and thought it infinitely more comfortable to ride a slow animal than subject myself to the sufferings that I must experience from these inconveniences.

"The negro, I had hired, brought to my hotel a long frame of bamboo, with a sort of basket at the end, into which he crammed my luggage. This frame had two straps fastened to the upper part of it, through one of which he slipped his arm, whilst he passed the other over his left shoulder, and attached it under the latter to the frame which was now on his back. This contrivance not only effectually secures the load in its place, but protects the shoulders of the bearer from the continual friction they would otherwise undergo.

"A large party had preceded me; but I felt no anxiety to overtake it, as there was little or no danger of my encountering violence on the route. I was armed with a good revolving pistol, in the event of any thing of the sort presenting itself; so that, all things considered, I was just as well pleased to be left to my own society.

"I proceeded on my route with my sable attendant, and found the commencement pleasant enough travelling, the road for some distance being paved with large and regularly cut stone. This, however, soon terminated in abundance of sand; the route still continuing dry, and comparatively easy to what I had expected to find it. Soon after we had quitted the paved road, the negro stopped and asked my permission to take a few things to his family, who lived in a small hut to our left. Apprehensive that he was meditating an escape with my luggage, I replied that I had no objection, provided he would leave his basket in my care. He accordingly took the frame off his back, and, separating a small bundle containing provisions from my baggage, he took his departure. I took care, however, to keep him in sight and saw him enter a wretched-looking bamboo-hut at a little distance from the route. He remained absent a considerable time; and, having paid him half his wages in advance, according to the usual custom with these people, who are exceedingly distrustful, I began to fear that he was about to desert me, and therefore called out lustily, until at last I saw him reluctantly emerge from the hut, and make his way towards me. These negroes being constantly in the habit of deserting travellers on the route, and stealing their baggage whenever the opportunity presents itself, I was particularly careful not to lose sight of my attendant.

"A few miles further on, I again found myself on a stone road, said to have been paved by Cortes to facilitate the passage of his troops from the Atlantic to the Pacific coast; and, although I have travelled rougher and steeper routes in Lower California, I cannot say that I have ever encountered such a combination of petty difficulties and annoyances. The road is, for the greater part, barely wide enough to admit of one mule passing with its packs, the sides forming steep embankments, composed chiefly of rich clay, out, in many places, of large rocks, through which a passage had evidently been cut with great labor. But little of the country can be seen on either side, owing to the height of these embankments; but now and then the traveller obtains a glimpse of dense thickets, and occasionally of undulating hills, the summits of which are covered with a deep perennial green. The recent rains having poured in torrents down the steep sides of the road, every cavity and crevice was filled with water and mud. Owing to the nature of the soil, and the constant traffic across the route from the time it was originally cut through, innumerable stones and flags had sunk considerably below the level of their original position; whilst a few had retained their places, as if to serve as stepping-stones to the traveller over the wet and mud. It is a task of incessant and wearying exertion, however, even for those who are mounted on mules, to avoid floundering into some of these pitfalls and quagmires at every step they make.

"The mules themselves are, as I have already stated, so worn-out, and broken-down, that it requires the utmost vigilance and care on the part of their riders to prevent them dropping, and precipitating them into the mire. In order to guard as much as possible against this contingency, whenever ladies travel this route, they are obliged to discard the side-saddle, and resort to a less feminine style of equitation. I overtook a party of about twenty persons on the road, amongst whom was a married lady on her way to the States; and I watched her rather curiously, to observe how she got over the difficulties that beset her. Being fortified with that article of male attire, the figurative possession of which is said to denote domestic ascendency, she thought it incumbent upon her, I suppose, to display all the courage and nerve that should properly be encased in it. Several times, when I fancied that both she and her mule were on the point of being capsized, she recovered herself with admirable presence of mind, and seemed to enjoy the risk exceedingly.

"As to myself, I floundered on as well as I could with a mule tottering beneath me from sheer exhaustion, and sinking every minute up to his knees in mud. It seemed to me that we were making little or no progress; and I became thoroughly tired and disheartened. I do not know any temptation, however powerful, that would again induce me to encounter the never-ending series of difficulties and annoyances that laid in wait for me at every step; and I must candidly own, that even the force of female example, of which I had so merry a specimen before me, did not at all shame me into a less impatient endurance of them.

"The negroes whom I met on their way to and from Panama excited my astonishment, from the amount of physical exertion which they seemed capable of undergoing. With their legs and feet bare, and nothing but a cloth around their loins, they carried enormous burdens on their backs, stepping from stone to stone with wonderful strength and dexterity. These poor creatures must lead the most wretched and laborious of all the painful modes of existence to which their race is condemned; and not even long habit, or their peculiar physical construction, can divest it of its distressing character in the eyes of a stranger. They all bear, on their hard and wrinkled faces, the stamp of overtaxed strength; but they seemed content with their lot, and will, doubtless, regret the formation of a better route, as tending to depreciate the value of their services. Notwithstanding the toilsome and laborious nature of their occupations, however, the carriers of Panama are the hardiest and most muscular race to be seen here; for the rest of the population, both white and black, are of comparatively sickly and diminutive appearance.

"Moving somewhat like a ship in a storm, rising and sinking alternately at stern and bow, surmounting first one huge stone, then a deep mud hole, then another stone, and then a small lake, my mule and myself at last reached Crucis in the evening, the whole distance traversed not being above twenty miles."[16]

The town of Crucis is a place very similar to Gorgona, but not so large. The houses are built of cane and plastered with mud. No attention is given to arrangement, and but a small portion is so constructed as to bear any resemblance to a street. The climate is unhealthy, and travellers from the United States make as short a stay there as possible. Doubtless, with the increase of travel, the character of the town and its accommodations will improve; but the heat and humidity of the atmosphere, particularly just after the rainy season, cause a great deal of injury to the health of people from the United States, and will prevent any considerable settlement of Anglo-Saxons in the town.

Panama, the terminus of the varied and difficult route across the Isthmus, is situated on the shore of an extensive and beautiful bay. It contains about eight thousand inhabitants, most of whom are negroes. Being one of the old Spanish towns, upon the decline of the Spanish power, the place fell into decay. The houses are generally of stone or brick, two and three stories in height, whitewashed or covered with a coat of plaster, and are invariably surrounded by a balcony protected from sun and rain by the roofs of the houses extending over them. The town is regularly arranged, the strait and narrow streets intersecting each other at right angles. The substantial character of the buildings as well as the evidences of neglect and decay, strike the traveller at the same time. A wall was built by the Spaniards, around the portion of the town nearest the bay, but at least one half of the population reside beyond its limits, and it is in a dilapidated state. A venerable, decayed, but still imposing cathedral; a grand plaza, or open common—a general characteristic of Spanish built towns; several churches, partly in ruins; the ruins of the College of Jesuits, which cover a large extent, and of two monasteries, of which the walls and bells alone remain; and the frowning walls and towers of the battery, fronting the bay, are the principal features of the town of Panama. Since the commencement of the emigration to California, a number of Americans have established hotels and eating-houses in the town, and good accommodations are, therefore, to be obtained by travellers.

The atmosphere at Panama is particularly injurious to people from the northern climes, and great care must be taken by travellers during their stay at that place. It is best to avoid eating fruit altogether; but, if indulged in, it should be in very inconsiderable quantities. Exposure to the mid-day sun is a frequent cause of sickness among the travellers, and should be avoided, as well as exposure to the rain. During the rainy season, the vomito is often prevalent among the inhabitants of Panama, and is generally a fatal disease; but there is a great deal less travel across the Isthmus during that season, on account of the sickliness of the climate and the difficulties of the route. A sort of bilious fever and dysentery are the most common forms of disease among travellers from the north; but both may be avoided by proper care.

From Panama, steamships of superior size and accommodation, convey passengers to San Francisco. Starting from the front of the city, the beautiful bay, with its semi-circular shores skirted with green foliage and inclosed with high mountains, and the lofty islands of Flamingo, Perico, Taboga, and others, present themselves to the view. At the island of Taboga, all the vessels that come into the bay obtain their supplies, and the Pacific Mail Steamship Company have established their depot for coal, &c., on its shores. After obtaining all the necessary supplies the steamship moves out of the bay, rounding Point Mala. The voyage upon the Pacific, with all its variety of incident and scenery, then commences. The principal annoyance of travellers is the almost intolerable heat of the sun and furnaces of the steamship united. Water-spouts and different species of whale are frequent sights. North of the Gulf of Tehuantepec, the steamer nears the land, and the bold mountain coast of Mexico breaks upon the view, and, at night, the passengers enjoy a view of the glaring light produced by the burning volcano of Colima; though the volcano itself is but imperfectly seen being at the distance of ninety miles from the vessel. Soon after this fades from the view, the islands off the town of San Blas appear, and an immense white rock, isolated from the sea, serving as a lighthouse to ships steering for the port. At San Blas, the steamships remain some time, to obtain supplies of coal, fresh fruits, and provisions. These indispensables having been procured, the vessel proceeds upon her voyage. Cape Corientes next appears, and, soon afterwards, the entrance to the Gulf of California is approached; and then, Cape San Lucas, the extreme southern point of California, with its mountains and rocky shores, is hailed by the traveller as the first portion of the "promised land" that greets his sight. Passing along the western coast of the peninsula, the island and bay of Magdalena appear, with shores three or four thousand feet above the sea. Next, the towering ridges of Cerros Isles are passed, and the bold, rocky shores of the peninsula are in continual view. The change of the temperature of the air is generally keenly felt by those who do not take care to provide against it. Within a few days after leaving Panama, the thermometer falls from 95° to 55°, and such a change must have an injurious effect, if additional clothing is not put on to meet it.

The first portion of Upper California, or, the "Golden Land," which presents itself to the voyagers, is the Ceronados, two high, round-topped rocks off the port of San Diego. Then the beautiful, semi-circular harbor is entered, and if wanting, supplies are obtained from the town. From the harbor of San Diego, the vessel proceeds along the coast of California, and the towering peaks of the coast range of mountains, engage the attention. The high promontory of St. Vincent is passed, and then the open bay of Monterey is entered, and passengers are either let off the steamer or taken aboard as necessity may occasion. From Monterey the steamer keeps along the coast, and mountainous shores alone meet the view, until the voyagers come in sight of the Farallones, two large detached rocks at the southern side of the entrance to the bay of San Francisco. Then the Golden Gate, as the strait or entrance is called, is entered by the steamer, and the perpendicular cliffs and hills upon each shore afford matter for wonder. The strait is about three miles long, and from one to two miles broad. As the vessel reaches its terminus, the great bay of San Francisco opens to the view, looking like a miniature ocean. Bird Island, Wood Island, Angel Island, with the beautiful little bay of Sancelito, successively meet the gaze, and very soon the steamer is anchored, having reached her destination. Such is the Isthmus route to the "gold region." It is the shortest route, or the one which occupies the least time in traversing, presents great variety, and upon the whole, its beauties and pleasures outnumber the difficulties and annoyances.

THE OVERLAND ROUTE.

We now proceed to give the general character and direction of that which is considered the best land route to California, and which is the most travelled by emigrants. The principal advantage possessed by this route may be stated in a few words. It is the shortest route to the bay of San Francisco and the gold region. The Indians upon the route are friendly and very few acts of hostility have been committed. The trail is plain and good where there are no physical obstructions. To these must be added the certainty of the emigrants reaching their place of destination, in good season; which will not exist, if new and unexplored routes are attempted. The greatest calamities and sufferings have been endured by those who have either taken an entirely different route, or deviated from the line which we will describe. Advice concerning the time of starting, preparations, &c., will be interspersed in the description.

The starting point, and the general rendezvous for emigrants, is the town of Independence, Missouri, situated about six miles from the Missouri River, on the south side of it. This town has been, for many years, the principal outfitting point for the Santa Fe traders, and contains about two thousand inhabitants. Emigrants should be at the starting place by the 20th of April, and start upon their journey as soon thereafter as the grass will permit. The outfit of companies of emigrants would be too tedious to mention, and as it varies considerably, from differences of means and taste, a description would hardly be accurate. But there are certain things which are indispensable to those who take this route, and these we will mention. With respect to wagons and teams, the lightest wagon that can be constructed of sufficient strength to carry 2,500 pounds weight, is the vehicle most desirable. This can be drawn by three or four yokes of oxen, or six mules; oxen are usually employed for this purpose. Pack mules can only be employed by parties of men; but the journey can be made in great deal less time with mules than with oxen. The provisions taken by the companies, consist mainly of flour, bacon, coffee, and sugar; besides these indispensables, there is rice, crackers, salt, pepper, and other luxuries of light weight. As to the quantity necessary, that may be determined by considering the length of the route and the average number of miles which the emigrants travel per day. From Independence to the first settlement in California, which is near the gold region, it is about two thousand and fifty miles—to San Francisco, 2,290 miles. Oxen teams travel about fifteen miles per day upon an average. At that rate, it would require one hundred and thirty-one days to reach the first settlement in California. Allowance should be made for stoppages by accident. Every man should be provided with a good rifle, a pair of pistols, with a quantity of ammunition, and a bowie knife and hatchet, in his belt. A set of carpenter's tools is also necessary.

Starting from Independence, and travelling a few miles over a good road, the first prairie opens upon the view. This is called the Blue Prairie, and presents a surface undulating and clothed with rich verdure. In crossing this prairie, violent storms often overtake the emigrants, and to those who have not been accustomed to it, the scene during the storm is terrifically grand. Fourteen miles travel upon the prairie brings the emigrants to the "Blue Creek," which is fordable, except after a heavy rain. Fording the creek and crossing the timbered bottom of the stream, another magnificent prairie is entered, which is beyond the Missouri line, and within the Indian territory. Sixteen miles travel over this beautiful plain brings the emigrant to Indian Creek, the banks of which usually serve for a place of encampment. The prairie offers the best pasturage for cattle; but constant watching is necessary to keep them from straying away and returning to the settlements. From Indian Creek, the emigrants proceed across the prairie, along the Santa Fe trail, for about fifteen miles, and then leave it, turning off to the right hand. Crossing several deep ravines, which are very difficult of passage in rainy weather, the emigrants arrive on the banks of the Werkarusa Creek. This is another favorite place of encampment, groves of trees being on each side of it. From this creek, the route is over the high-rolling prairie, upon a smooth and hard trail. The want of water is the only annoyance that is experienced by the travellers, and a long day's journey is necessary to bring them to the nearest creek—a branch of the Kansas River. The banks of the creek are steep, and considerable toil is requisite to cross it.

The crossing of the Kansas River is the next difficulty to be met. There is a regular ferry about five miles from where the emigrants cross the tributary creek. At that place the river is never more than two hundred yards wide, even after heavy rains. The wagons are placed in boats, owned by the Indians, and transported to the opposite shore for the sum of one dollar per load. The oxen and horses are compelled to swim across. Following the trail for about three miles, a place of encampment, on the banks of Soldier Creek, is reached. The soil in the neighborhood of the Kansas is luxuriantly productive, and the most refreshing verdure meets the eye along the trails from that river to Soldier Creek. The route is then pursued over a flat plain—boggy in some places—for several miles, till another creek is reached, the banks of which are steep, and this, as in other cases, make its crossing a matter of great toil. The trail then runs over a high, undulating country, presenting every variety of scenery, as far as Black Paint Creek, near which are two Kansas Indian villages. The Kansas are a friendly tribe, and if they were not, they are not powerful enough to attack large parties of emigrants. They are somewhat disposed to pilfer whatever they can conveniently, and require close watching.

After crossing the creek, the trail is followed through a fertile valley, across Hurricane Creek, which is somewhat difficult of passage, and then over an open and rolling prairie, broken by small branches and ravines. Many places, convenient for encamping, are to be found on the route, some of which have springs of pure cold water. Farther on, the ground becomes more broken, and Vermilion Creek, a large and rapid stream, is reached. Its banks are steep, and its fording very toilsome and difficult. Between this creek and the Big Blue, there is neither wood nor water to be obtained, and therefore, it is customary for the emigrants to fill their casks at this place. The ground between the two streams, a distance of ten miles, is more broken than any upon the former part of the route, and on arriving at the Big Blue, a steep descent is made to the low, bottom lands near the river. The usual width of the Big Blue is about a hundred yards, at which time alone it is fordable. It becomes much swollen by heavy rains, and very rapid in its current.

Arising from the bottom of the Big Blue River, the emigrants are again upon the high and undulating prairie. Every variety of scenery is presented to the view, and springs of water, issuing from the cliffy banks of the small branches and ravines, and shaded by groves of trees offer many places for rest and refreshment. Fourteen miles from the Big Blue, one of its tributaries, exceedingly difficult to cross with large wagons and teams, is met with. After passing it, the trail runs over a smooth inclined plane for the distance of twelve miles, to another encamping place for emigrants, upon the banks of a small creek. From that creek there is a gradual ascent for the distance of about fourteen miles, and then a beautiful valley, through which flows a small stream, meets the eye of the wearied emigrants, and offers groves of oak to serve for places of rest. Then there is another gradual ascent, through a country which is more sandy and less fertile than any met with upon the former part of the route, for more than twenty miles. The Little Blue is then reached, and the train continues along up the banks of the stream for the distance of about fifty miles; the road being dry and firm, except in a few ravines. The trail then diverges from the stream to the right, ascending over the bluffs, into the high table land of the prairie, and continues to ascend gradually until the bluffs overlooking the valley of the Platte River, are reached. The soil along this part of the trail is sandy, and the grass rather scarce; but water can be obtained at several places.

The Platte River is about one hundred and fifty yards in breadth where the trail reaches it. The current is sluggish and turbid, and the water is very shallow. The trail continues along the banks of the river, the course of which is nearly from west to east, and the road is all that could be wished for travelling. The bluffs which skirt the valley present considerable variety, and as the route is continued, they become more elevated and broken. The soil of the valley becomes less fertile and the vegetation is thin and short. After traversing the valley of the Platte for the distance of one hundred and thirty miles, the trail crosses the river and continues along the northern bank of the south fork for about twelve miles, when it diverges from the stream to pass over the prairie to the north fork. The distance from the south to the north fork of the Platte, by the emigrant trail, is about twenty-two miles, without water. The country between the two streams is high and rolling. The soil is poor, the grass short, and no trees or shrubs are visible. The trail descends into the valley of the north fork of the Platte, through a pass known as Ash Hollow. There is but one steep or difficult place for wagons in the pass, and in the valley will be found a spring of pure cool water. At this place, there is a sort of post office, where letters are left by emigrants, with requests that they shall be taken to the States by those who pass this way.

For several miles from Ash Hollow the trail passes over a sandy soil, which is very soft, but which afterwards becomes firmer. The scenery then presents the aspect of barrenness and desolation. Sand and rocks are all that meet the view for many miles. The landscape then assumes a greener and more refreshing appearance, and groves of trees relieve the emigrants from pursuing their way any farther during the day. Farther on, the well-known landmark, called the "Chimney Rock," which can be seen at a great distance, is met by the emigrants. It is composed of soft rock, and is several hundred feet high. The scenery in the neighbourhood of the rock is very remarkable and picturesque. There are a number of rocky elevations which present the appearance of vast temples and pyramids, with domes and spires partially in ruins. Over a sandy soil, the trail is pursued for about twenty miles, the surrounding scenery being of the most sublime and singular character. Near a remarkable rocky conformation, called "Scott's Bluff," the trail leaves the river, and runs over a smooth valley in the rear of the bluff. It there ascends to the top of the dividing ridge, from which the Rocky Mountains can be seen. Descending from the ridge, it passes over a barren country, broken by deep chasms and ravines, for about twelve miles, when Horse Creek is reached. From that creek, the trail is followed to the Platte River, where a place for encampment is found, though the grass is very indifferent. Continuing for several miles through a barren country, the trail is followed to "Fort Bernard," a small building, rudely constructed of logs, used as a trading-post. Eight miles farther on, is Fort Laramie, or Fort John, as it is sometimes called. This fort has been the principal trading-post of the American Fur Company. It is situated in the Laramie River, near its junction with the Platte, and is six hundred and seventy-two miles from Independence. The building is quadrangular, and is constructed of adobÉ, or sun-dried bricks. Its walls are surmounted by watch-towers and its gate is defended by two brass swivels.

From Fort Laramie, the trail continues on through a broken country, to the Platte River, a distance of twenty miles. Crossing a small creek which empties into the Platte, it proceeds through the dry bed of one of its branches, over a deep sand for six or eight miles, and reaches the summit of a high ridge. From thence it descends into a narrow valley, through which flows a small stream of pure water. Another ridge of hills is then ascended, and a wild, desolate, but picturesque scene is presented to the view. Numerous lofty mountain peaks, barren rocks, and a vast prospect of low conical hills are the principal features. Through a country, the principal features of which are of this description, the trail is followed, and the monotony of the journey is only relieved by an occasional stoppage at a refreshing spring of water. The trail gradually ascends towards the summit of the Rocky Mountains, and the country becomes more broken and sterile, till it reaches Beaver Creek, a tributary of the Platte. There the grass and water are good, and the wood is abundant. The country exhibits every indication of fertility upon the trail leading from Beaver Creek, and pure and limpid streams are frequent, until the Platte River is again struck and followed upon its southern bank, for the distance of about eighteen miles. The river is then forded, and the trail ascends the high bluffs overlooking the valley, and proceeds over several miles of table-land till the valley of the Platte is again reached. At this point, the trail finally leaves the Platte, and, ascending the bluffs on the right, passes over an arid plain diversified with immense piles of rocks, deep ravines and chasms, and presenting a wide-spread sterility and desolation, for the distance of forty miles. Water is to be obtained in very small quantities and at few places on this part of the trail, and, therefore a scarcity should be provided for before leaving the Platte. At the end of that distance, the trail descends into a small valley, where spring water can be obtained and some refreshing shade. Ascending from this valley, the trail gradually ascends to the summit of a dividing ridge, from which a view of the Sweetwater River Mountains can be obtained. Descending from the ridge, a small stream, the grassy banks of which serve for an encampment, is soon reached. Farther on is a well-known landmark among the mountains, called Independence Rock. It is an isolated elevation, composed of masses of rock, about one hundred feet in height, and a mile in circumference, standing near the northern bend of the Sweetwater River, and between the ranges of mountains which border the valley of that stream.

The trail proceeds up the Sweetwater River, and passes a remarkable fissure in the Rocky Mountain wall, which is called the Devil's Gate. The fissure is about thirty feet in breadth, and the perpendicular walls on each side of the channel of the stream which flows through it, are nearly three hundred feet high. The trail leaves the river about twelve miles from where it first strikes it, and then returns to it after traversing about sixteen miles. It again diverges from the river and crosses a broken and arid plain, which presents but few signs of vegetation. Passing through a gap between two ranges of granite mountains, the first view of the Wind River Mountains is obtained. The trail then proceeds through a narrow valley several miles in length, the surface of which is white with an alkaline efflorescence, and then returns to the Sweetwater River. Continuing up the valley of the Sweetwater, occasionally leaving the bank of the stream and passing over the rolling and barren tablelands, it crosses two small creeks which present good places for encampment. Several miles farther on, the trail crosses the Sweetwater River, and then leaves it finally, making a gradual ascent to the South Pass of the Rocky Mountains, or the dividing ridge which separate the waters of the Atlantic and Pacific.

After the summit of the ridge is reached, the trail passes two or three miles over a level surface, and then descends to the spring, well known to emigrants as the "Pacific Spring." The water from this spring is emptied into the Colorado River of the West, which river empties into the Gulf of California. This Pacific Spring is two miles west of the South Pass, and nine hundred and eighty-three miles from Independence, Missouri.

From the Pacific Spring, the trail passes over an arid, undulating plain, in a west-by-north course, for about twenty-eight miles, when the "Little Sandy" River, a branch of the Green or Colorado River, presents itself, and furnishes the first water after leaving Pacific Spring. From the Little Sandy River, the trail passes over a plain of white sand or clay, and within twelve miles reaches the Big Sandy River, and passes along it for about eighteen miles, and then strikes off and crosses the Green River, or Colorado of the West. This river is shallow and only about seventy yards broad. The trail then continues down the Green River a short distance, and then, making a right angle, ascends the bluffs bordering the valley of the stream, in nearly a west course. The country then becomes still more broken and barren, and the trail ascends gradually to the summit of a ridge, from which it descends to the banks of the Black Fork, a tributary of the Green River. This Black Fork is crossed several times upon the route, but is not more than sixty yards wide and is very shallow. The trail leaves it to cut off the bends and then returns to it. The scenery along this part of the route is interesting, but the soil is frightfully sterile. Diverging from the stream the trail passes over a barren plain with no vegetation upon it except the wild sage, so common even in the most sterile country, and then passes through a bottom of grass, offering a good place for an encampment.

Near this place is Fort Bridger, a small trading-post established by a Mr. Bridger. The buildings are two or three rudely constructed log cabins, and they are situated in a handsome fertile bottom, on the banks of a small stream. This fort is about eleven hundred miles from Independence, Missouri. From Fort Bridger, many parties anxious to explore the country, take the route by way of the south end of the great Salt Lake. But the scarcity of water and the other difficulties encountered in crossing the sterile plains and the great Salt Desert should be sufficient to deter emigrants with families from taking that direction. Oxen could not travel fast enough from one watering-place to another, and must necessarily perish from thirst. Besides, the route is but poorly defined, and may be wandered from very easily.

The trail of the old route, and the one taken by most of the emigrants, leaves Fort Bridger, and pursues a north-westerly course, through the Bear River valley, which it leaves at a remarkable landmark called Sheep Rock, and crossing a dividing ridge reaches Fort Hall, by the valley of the Portneaf River. This fort was established by the Hudson Bay Company, and it is the seat of a considerable trade in furs with the Indians and trappers. From Fort Hall the trail continues on till it reaches the valley of Mary's River. There a tolerably fertile soil and refreshing vegetation greets the eye of the travel-worn emigrant. The trail crosses the river five or six times in as many miles, in order to take advantage of the narrow bottoms made by the windings of the stream. The bottom is skirted by very high ranges of mountains to where the trail leaves it, and turning to the right ascends over low, gravelly hills. Descending from the summit of a ridge of hills, it passes through a valley where good grass and water can be obtained—the valley containing several springs of pure cold water. Emerging from this valley through a narrow gap, the trail passes into another still more extensive, and pursues a south-westerly direction for about twenty miles, keeping near the margin of Mary's River. A succession of low hills are crossed, and another valley is reached. During the journey through these valleys, the emigrants are exposed to the fiery rays of the sun, and the hot winds from the desert are very oppressive. The trail then follows the course of the river in a direction nearly north-west, through valleys, or plains of great extent, and mountainous defiles, occasionally following a bend of the river towards the south-west. The greater portion of these valleys is barren, but there are frequent fertile spots near the boiling springs. The only Indians met on this part of the route are the diggers, and they do not possess the power to do much harm, if they even were hostile; but they are friendly. The want of water is the principal annoyance.

Passing over the desolate valleys and hills that border Mary's River, the trail descends into a large circular basin, in which a place for encamping is found, but with little water. From this basin, it crosses some considerable elevations and then a totally barren plain ten miles wide. Beyond this, water and grass of tolerable quality are soon found; and there, if possible, a supply should be obtained sufficient to last for a long day's journey. Rounding the base of a mountain, the trail takes a south-west course, across a totally barren plain. No sign of the river, or the existence of any water is exhibited. Near the southern edge of the plain, which is twenty miles in extent, some pools of standing water are found, and the place is known as the "Sink of Mary's River." From these pools to the Truckee, or Salmon Trout River, the distance is forty-five miles. The trail is followed over the hills of ashy earth, in which the mules often sink to their bellies, and over a ground destitute of any vegetation, except occasional clumps of wild sage. A ridge of mountains is then ascended by an easy inclined plain, and a view of the distant range of Sierra Nevada is obtained on reaching the summit. The intervening valley presents as barren a prospect as the country immediately preceding it. Descending into it, numerous boiling springs are found, which often serve to delude the thirsty emigrants. But by damming up the streams which flow from them, the water may be cooled, and, although impregnated with salt, sulphur, and magnesia, it may quench the thirst. The phenomenon of mirage is frequently presented to the view of the emigrants, and it very often assumes the appearance of things unknown to that desert region, such as lakes, cascades, and foaming and tumbling waters. About twelve miles from the springs, a ridge of sandy hills, running across the valley, is ascended, and then an elevated plain of about ten miles in extent is crossed by the trail. Over this plain the travelling is very laborious—the sand being very deep. But at length the Truckee River is reached, and water, grass and trees, larger than any upon the former part of the route for five hundred miles preceding, greet the wearied and thirsty emigrant.

The Truckee River is about fifty feet in breadth with a shallow but rapid current of clear water. The bottom land is exceedingly fertile, and game is sometimes to be obtained in its neighborhood. The trail crosses the Truckee very frequently, in its winding course, but the country being agreeable, this is not considered toilsome by the emigrant, after traversing the barren plains in the vicinity of Mary's River. The course of the Truckee is nearly from the south-west to the north-east, and in some places it passes between very high mountains, affording scarcely room for travellers to pass. Sometimes the trail is followed through fertile valleys and then over barren hills and rocky passes till the summit of a gap in the mountains is reached, and a pleasant valley opens to the view, offering a fine place for encampment. The trail then turns to the left, and proceeds in a southerly direction, crossing the Truckee several times, until the Truckee Lake breaks upon the view. This small sheet of water is surrounded by lofty mountains, except upon the side where its outlet flows from it. The trail strikes the shore of the lake at its eastern end, and continues around its north-eastern side over a very difficult, boggy road. Having reached the upper end of the lakes, the trail leaves the shore on the right hand, ascends over some rocky hills, and, crossing some deep ravines and swampy ground, arrives at the base of the crest of the Sierra Nevada. Then comes the ascent of the steep pass—a work of difficulty and danger. The mules are compelled to leap from crag to crag, and, when heavily laden, are often precipitated backward in climbing the almost perpendicular rocks.

Having attained the summit of the pass, the view is inexpressibly grand and comprehensive. A mile journey upon the top of the mountain brings the traveller to a small lake, surrounded by good grass, which is often used as a place of encampment. Leaving the lake on the right hand, the trail descends over the rocky ground for a few miles, and then enters a beautiful valley about five miles long. Through this valley, which is called the Yuba valley, by the emigrants, flows the Yuba River, a tributary of the Feather River, and the scene of considerable gold digging and washing. This is the commencement of the gold region, and after their journey through the wilderness, here the emigrants greet the "promised land." From this point to Sacramento city, the great terminus of the overland emigration, it is about sixty miles; but the trading post of Yuba, Johnson's ranche, Vernon, and the other posts, offer convenient intermediate resting places.

We have thus sketched the general character of the principal overland route to California, and have followed the trail of the emigrant over all the difficulties and obstacles which present themselves upon the route. That there are portions of the journey which are productive of considerable suffering, and which demand stout hearts and strong constitutions to meet them, is not to be doubted. But they are few compared with the dangers to be encountered by deviating from the particular trail whose course we have followed. The want of water is the principal source of annoyance towards the lake part of the route, but this occurs in few places. The longest distance to be travelled without finding water, is about forty-five miles—from the "Sink" of Mary's River to Truckee River, and this may be prepared for. It is a matter of great importance, that the delay upon the route should be as little as possible. Great suffering and many deaths have been caused by delaying too long at different camping places. It should be made an urgent duty to get over as much ground every day as possible, and to keep in the old trail.

The overland route which we have sketched, and the route by way of Chagres and Panama, are the two routes by which most of the California emigrations had proceeded; but there are others projected, and some have been followed. Many persons have proceeded to California through Mexico; but the difficulty and delay in the matter of passports, and the opposition of the Mexicans to armed parties of another country passing their territory, must prove weighty objections to any such route. Another has been projected, and will probably be opened. It is a route across the territory of Nicaragua, in Central America. This will be the shortest and most convenient route to the gold region, and will absorb the greater portion of the travel thither; but the overland route will always be taken by those who have been accustomed to a country life, or have a thirst for adventure. It presents the greatest variety of scenery—some of it of a character not to be seen elsewhere; and affords opportunities for studying nature in all her visible forms; and, though attended with toils and dangers, which will daunt the feeble, it possesses the strongest attractions for the lovers of variety, and the hardy adventurer who has confidence in his own powers of endurance.