The First Trappers

View of the Sawtooths from Galena Summit

Although the Louisana Purchase was made in 1803, and fur companies established in the Great Northwest even before Lewis and Clark made their trek in 1805-06 no white man had ever set eyes on the Stanley-Sawtooth country before 1824. He came in the person of Alexander Ross, a Scot school teacher transplanted from Canada, and who, at the age of twenty-eight, relinquished his profession to fall in with John Jacob Astor’s Pacific Fur Company in 1811.

From the start, Ross was curious to know what lay southwest of Pierre’s Hole and Henry’s Fork. Even so, it was thirteen years later before he was able to organize a party to make the expedition. In the spring of 1824, with a mixed party of Canadians and Indians, numbering fifty-five, he penetrated from what we know as Montana over Lost Trail Pass to the mouth of the Lemhi where the town of Salmon is now located. He named this junction of the rivers “Canoe Point”. Here, he cached over 1,000 beaver pelts to lighten their load, and went on to explore much of the Lost River drainage, working his way to the Boise and Weiser areas, and eventually to Big Wood River. Near its headwaters, he was drawn by the splendor of the Sawtooth and Boulder mountains.

“What lies beyond?” he wrote in his journal, “On the Morrow we shall see.” And see they did, from Galena Summit (elevation 8,701 ft.), which he called “Simpson Mountain” in honor of the governor of Mantitoba, Canada… Date: September 18, 1824. While he stood there with with those of his party, enthralled by the wild, scenic beauty of the valley spread below, Ross calculated that by following the river (Salmon) downstream, they could surely connect back at Canoe Point by mid-October. This was important with winter near, coupled by the fact he had agreed to meet back with old Pierre when the party had split on the Lost River that spring. Therefore, he knew he could not tarry long in the Valley and Basin, but felt he must explore this enchanting region at any cost.

The party found wild game plentiful on the Valley and Basin floors. Deer and elk herds were feeding everywhere. However, Ross was most impressed by the number of grizzly and black bears. He made note in his journal of observing dozens on a four acre plot where “they were rooting like a bunch of pigs.” Note: When he spoke of the bears rooting, he was referring to the camas lilly bulbs that grow abundantly in parts of the Stanley Basin, and which were relished as food by the animals and Indians.

October arrived turning the region into a riot of color. A decided chill filled the air. Many beaver had been added to the party’s count, and it was time to go. Reluctantly, turning downstream, as they progressed through the steep-walled canyons (where Highway 93 now bends along side the Salmon River towards Clayton) travel became slow and precarious. At one point, Ross even considered back tracking their route, but time was short and they went on. After the loss of several horses packed with beaver pelts down the shaley mountain side, they finally emerged where Salmon bends northward (two miles south of where the town of Challis was located in 1878), weary in bone and body. Here they rested a day, then went on to meet Old Pierre, and back to winter quarters at Astoria Oregon.

There Ross told of their exploration of the beautiful, wild river and the region where it gathers its headwaters. Ross was soon followed by other trappers, namely; Jed Smith, John Work, Peter Skene Ogden, Nathaniel Wyeth, Captain Bonneville, and Milton Sublette.

From: Stanley-Sawtooth Country by, Esther Yarber

Only One Week

The Sawtooth Mountains

Don't forget that the weekend after this is the camp out. We'll be headin' up on the 8'th and leavin' on the 12'th. Cain't wait to see everyone thar.

The Packers

A pack train in Custer

When word went out in Idaho Territory that prospectors and miners in the Yankee Fork District were in need of pack service, packers promptly moved in. They set up supply stations at various points along the Yankee Fork and situated a main station at the mouth of Jordon Creek…

These so called stations were actually simple lean-tos where packers could stop, rest, and wait for his customers to meet him- all except the main depot. It was constructed of logs; a small, windowless, box like cabin…

The packers began their grueling task of packing much needed machinery and other supplies, from Ketchum eighty-four miles to the south, into the district in the fall of 1877. Their trains were made up of horses, mules, and burros. For the next four or five years the packer’s services were invaluable to the isolated men… The packer’s willingness, and his ability to guide the animals along the thread-like trail that spiraled perilously over rough terrain and down into the valley, made him a unique breed of man…

A pack train was usually made up of fourteen to twenty animals with each carrying an average of three hundred pounds that had to be divided and distributed as evenly as possible in order to balance the load. Lashing and tying a load was a kind of art…

On the whole, the packers were a hard working, conscientious people who never hesitated to brave the dangers in a still wild country. In those days bears were numerous in the district and often caused a great deal of trouble. Horses and mules would sometimes bolt or buck at the very scent of one. As a result many packs were lost down steep mountainsides, or ruined otherwise. Many times a pack animal was pitifully crippled or killed outright, for in their fright they often stumbled and tumbled down the mountainsides, too.

Because it took considerable time to repack and cinch the pack saddles onto the animals, the packer’s day began at dawn. One to three helpers were usually employed, the need usually determined by size of the train and the weight of the loads.

The heaviest loaded pack animal was always placed in the lead to set the pace. Then the train would travel steadily for six to eight hours, averaging from twelve to fifteen miles a day, depending on the weather conditions at the time, and whether the trail was climbing, or descending, or crossing a flat.

The packers knew where the grass grew the greenest, where the water was the handiest, and which places along the route made the best camp grounds. When they stopped for the night, the animals were unloaded and the pack saddles lined up against a nearby log or boulder for reasonable safety. Some packers would hobble one or two of their animals and tie a bell on one of them – while others preferred to tie up’ or stake out a mare. In the latter case, the rest of the animals would usually stay close by. No matter which method was used, the animals had to be constantly watched to prevent them from straying to far from camp. Always, the packers had to be alert to the possibility of a bear putting in an appearance around the animals.

Most of the animals owned by the packers who packed into the Yankee Fork district were well trained and were quick to obey the commands of their masters. Some were even intelligent enough to go directly to their own pack saddles when they were brought into camp in the mornings.

The Early Days

When John G. Morrison heard the news, spread by the trappers, that gold was evidence in the sands of the Yankee Fork, he geared himself; and in the summer of 1873 he made his way across the mountains into the narrow valley of the Yankee Fork.

He was the first prospector to make a strike in the district, locating a rich placer at the junction of Jordon Creek and the Yankee Fork. Before winter set in, he ha hired forty-five men ro help him drift on bedrock under the Jordon Creek channel…

Morrison and his men lived out the winter of 1873 and ’74 in tents grouped beside the stream. With their time limited and because they had to pack all tools and supplies from a long distance on their backs over steep treacherous trails into the district, they chose not to cut and haul logs for the building of shelter.

When the snows came, they soon found it necessary to move about on snowshoes. They did their cooking over open fires, often enduring weather that sent the mercury to 20 and 30 below zero. But these men were a hardy lot and soon became used to the rigors of the country….

Most of them (the prospectors) came packing their meager equipment on their backs. And while a few were fortunate enough to own a burro or a horse, each of them found it necessary to carry special items so essential to their way of life. An ax, gold pan, a pick and shovel made up the tool list, while a coffee pot, frying pan, a dutch oven, eating utensils and a blanket or two made up the remainder of their outfits. The amounts of extra clothing and food staples man carried depended on how strong his back was, or if he afforded a pack animal or not.

A number of the men had canvas tents, but the majority managed to build small, windowless cabins, or construct a dugout at the base of a hillside. A few added rude, rock fireplaces to their cabins to provide warmth and cooking fires. The ones that didn’t, and the ones who live in tents, had to do their cooking over open fires. All of them slept on the ground, since there was no way of securing lumber furniture.

Fish and wild game were plentiful; such was their main fare, supplemented by a few beans, wild berries in season, and dutch oven bread. It became imperative that they be schooled in the ways of the wild in order to sustain life in this primitive land of the Yankee Fork. Oftentimes the men paired up, not so much because they liked one another, but more fore safety and convenience.

These men carried tinder pouches, or tinder horns, just as early pioneers had done, for making fires; matches were not always available, of dependable. A little knowledge of herds used by the Indians for medicine helped broaden their self-confidence, too…

The lives of these men were filled with hardships, privations, and loneliness, especially during the winter months when they were virtually cut off from the outside world by the deep, drifting snows. The location of the Yankee Fork district places it at the highest elevation in the state of Idaho- the elevation at the old town of Custer is 6,376 above sea level- and thus explains why winters in this part of the country are usually so severe. Many of the men left wives and sweethearts behind. Yet, their dreams of finding gold kept them from returning to civilization and to those they loved.

From- “Land of the Yankee Fork” by Esther Yarber

Sagebrush Pioneers Campout

The weekend of July 10'th we will be holding our very first Sagebrush Pioneers camp. We will be located up in the heart of Idaho near the old mining towns of Custer and Bonanza City. The weekend will be devoted to studying the life of the pioneers of that area. Also that weekend in the town of Custer is "Custer Days" which is an event that remembers the pioneers that first came in to this rough land.

Over this next month I will try to post info of the area so that those who come to the camp will have an idea of what happened in those early days of settlement. And don't forget to do some studying yourself.

This is from the book "Land of the Yankee Fork" by Esther Yarber.

Idaho- Within her bosom lies the land of the Yankee Fork. This is gold country. Some authorities say the highest grade ore ever to come out of the state came from here.

The name Yankee Fork derives from a turbulent stream which composes one of the larger tributaries of the Salmon River…

…Rich mineral deposits are laid down here, but because it sits high on the western slopes of the Rockies, deep secure within the southern reaches of the Salmon River Mountains, its winters are long and cruel.

Before the white man came to explore, Indians called it “The land of deep snows,” and never ventured up that way except in the summer months. The trappers, who came next, deemed it foolhardy to remain very long at one time. It was they who reported color in the sands of the Yankee Fork and its tributaries. Yet not until the gold fields elsewhere did the prospectors gather enough courage to search for minerals and brave the winters here.

It was in the Seventies, while Idaho was in her Middle years as a territory, that the first strikes were made. No road into the district was started until 1879, after the building of Bonanza City had begun, the townsite of Custer platted, and outside capital moved in.

After the road was completed and major mining and milling operations got under way, by the mid-Eighties the two towns, located two miles apart on the banks of the Yankee Fork, boasted a combined population of over 5,000 people. The district’s initial boom lasted eight years, followed by a five, then another boom which ended in 1910. These booms were followed by spurts of mining activity ever since.

Today Custer and Bonanza City are ghost towns, many of the mine shafts in the district are empty, and the mills in the vicinities are reduced to remnants and rubble. At the mouth of Jordan Creek, mid-way between the two towns, an old gold dredge of later day operations sits in one of the deep pits of its own making, semi-circled by huge piles of rock and gravel reported to have produced several million dollars in gold during its intermittent operations. More gold is said to be contained in the strembed of the Yankee Fork. But for that matter, it is said that the entire district continues to be an area of potential wealth.

Kit Carson

(1809-1868)

Enshrined in popular mythology even in his own lifetime, Kit Carson was a trapper, scout, Indian agent, soldier and authentic legend of the West.

Born on Christmas eve in 1809, Carson spent most of his early childhood in Boone's Lick, Missouri. His father died when he was only nine years old, and the need to work prevented Kit from ever receiving an education. He was apprenticed to a saddle-maker when he turned fourteen, but left home for the Santa Fe, New Mexico area in 1826.

From about 1828 to 1831, Carson used Taos, New Mexico, as a base camp for repeated fur-trapping expeditions that often took him as far West as California. Later in the 1830's his trapping took him up the Rocky Mountains and throughout the West. For a time in the early 1840's, he was employed by William Bent as a hunter at Bent's Fort.

As was the case with many white trappers, Carson became somewhat integrated into the Indian world; he travelled and lived extensively among Indians, and his first two wives were Arapahoe and Cheyenne women. Carson was evidently unusual among trappers, however, for his self-restraint and temperate lifestyle. "Clean as a hound's tooth," according to one acquaintance, and a man whose "word was as sure as the sun comin' up," he was noted for an unassuming manner and implacable courage.

In 1842, while returning to Missouri to visit his family, Carson happened to meet John C. Fremont, who soon hired him as a guide. Over the next several years, Carson helped guide Fremont to Oregon and California, and through much of the Central Rocky Mountains and the Great Basin. His service with Fremont, celebrated in Fremont's widely-read reports of his expeditions, quickly made Kit Carson a national hero, presented in popular fiction as a rugged mountain man capable of superhuman feats.

Carson's notoriety grew as his name became associated with several key events in the United States' westward expansion. He was still serving as Fremont's guide when Fremont joined California's short-lived Bear-Flag rebellion just before the outbreak of the Mexican-American War in 1846, and it was Carson who led the forces of U.S. General Stephen Kearney from New Mexico into California when a Californio band led by Andrés Pico mounted a challenge to American occupation of Los Angeles later that year.

At the end of the war, Carson returned to New Mexico and took up ranching. By 1853, he and his partner were able to drive a large flock of sheep to California, where gold rush prices paid them a handsome profit. This same year Carson was appointed federal Indian agent for Northern New Mexico, a post he held until the Civil War imposed new duties on him in 1861.

Carson played a prominent and memorable role in the Civil War in New Mexico. He helped organize the New Mexico volunteer infantry, which saw action at Valverde in 1862. Most of his military actions, however, were directed against the Navajo Indians, many of whom had refused to be confined upon a distant reservation set up by the government. Beginning in 1863 Carson waged a brutal economic war against the Navajo, marching through the heart of their territory to destroy their crops, orchards and livestock. When Utes, Pueblos, Hopis and Zunis, who for centuries had been prey to Navajo raiders, took advantage of their traditional enemy's weakness by following the Americans onto the warpath, the Navajo were unable to defend themselves. In 1864 most surrendered to Carson, who forced nearly 8,000 Navajo men, women and children to take what came to be called the "Long Walk" of 300 miles from Arizona to Fort Sumner, New Mexico, where they remained in disease-ridden confinement until 1868.

After the Civil War, Carson moved to Colorado in the hope of expanding his ranching business. He died there in 1868, and the following year his remains were moved to a small cemetery near his old home in Taos.

Making Fire with Flint & Steel: By J. Gottfred

I have always been intrigued by the idea of lighting a fire with flint and steel. I have often read in period novels how someone reached for their tinder box and lit a cheroot. Statements of this kind make it sound as easy as striking a match, but was it really that simple & fast?

Early Failures

Many survival or scouting books give different instructions on how one can start a fire with flint and steel. These books suggest various materials that are supposed to catch the spark. I have tried many of them, and I can attest that the people who wrote those books had obviously never tried it! I tried all of the following materials without success : punk (the powdery dry rot from the insides of fallen logs), cottonwood fluff, fine dry grass, fine wood shavings, dry moss, and various lichens. None of these materials worked, although they all made excellent small kindling once I gave up and used a match.

The Problem Solved

For a clue, I turned to my copy of the Oxford Universal Dictionary, which defined tinder as "a flammable substance used to kindle a fire, especially charred linen" [my italics]. At about the same time, I stumbled upon an article on fire-starting by Mr. Warren Boughton in which he describes how to make charred cloth. I followed Mr. Boughton's recipe, and the results were amazing. When a spark hits charred cloth, it creates a tiny red spot, which slowly grows like a glowing fairy ring. It is impossible to blow out ; in fact, the more wind there is the better, as the spark simply gets hotter and hotter. The only way to put it out is by suffocation (which preserves the rest of the charred cloth for future use), or by dousing it with water (which ruins the char cloth). The amazing thing is that with the magic of charred cloth, in windy weather it is easier to start a fire with flint and steel than it is to use a match!

Making Charred Cloth

Here is how to put together your own tinder box, so that you can make a fire the same way that people did two hundred years ago. First, you will need some cloth. Linen is the traditional fabric, but 100% cotton works just fine, and it is a lot cheaper! You must be sure to use only completely natural fabrics. This is for two reasons ; first, synthetics didn't exist two hundred years ago, and secondly, they don't char —they melt, and leave you with a useless mess! Cut the cloth into pieces. I have had success with patches as small as two inches square, but I would suggest that you start with patches that are about four to five inches on a side.

Next, you will have to find a small tin can with a tight lid. A small paint tin would work. I have used both a small twist lid tobacco tin and a tea tin with success. You will have to punch two small holes —one in the top and one in the bottom of the can. The holes should be less than 1/8" in diameter. You should have two little twigs on hand, about six inches or more in length and whittled so as to fit snugly into the holes you punched in the tin. Some tongs will be needed to remove the hot tin from the fire safely.

Build a fire, and let it die down until you have a nice bed of roasting coals. (You could probably use a charcoal barbecue for this, if that is more convenient.) If this is the first time you have used your tin, I would strongly suggest that you put it in the fire to burn off any paint or oils that might be on the can. If you don't, these materials will ruin your first batch of char cloth. When the tin is black with peeling paint, take it out of the fire, let it cool, and brush off the ash. You will be left with a dark, mottled steel effect that has a certain charm.

Once your tin has been cleaned out, put the pieces of cloth into the tin, and tighten down the lid. Place the tin on or near the coals, and watch it carefully. The secret to charring cloth is that it is an anaerobic process — the chemical transformation of the cloth occurs only in the absence of oxygen. If air is present, then the cloth will not char ; instead, it will burn to ashes and be useless. As the cloth heats up, it gives off volatile gasses which rapidly fill the interior of the tin, driving out the air. These gasses are then vented to the outside of the tin through the tiny holes in the top and bottom. You will see these hot gasses ignite when they hit the air, and tiny jets of flame will come out of both ends of the tin. A lot of smoke also comes out of the holes of the tin, and this is what you must watch for. When the volume of smoke dies down, turn the tin over ; this will ensure even charring of the cloth, and will usually cause an increase in the volume of smoke. Once smoke has ceased to come out of the holes, then the cooking process is finished. Using your tongs, pull the tin out of the fire and immediately plug the two holes with the twigs. If air gets into the tin while it is still hot, then the cloth will burn to ashes. Set the tin aside and wait ten minutes for it to cool before you open it.

Problems Encountered when Charring

Properly charred cloth should be a uniform black. If there is still color left in the fabric, then you did not cook it for long enough, or the tin was not hot enough. I have found that putting it back in the fire to cook some more yields an inferior product. I would suggest that you start again from scratch. The cloth should not be sooty, although the pieces right next to the holes in the tin tend to be so. The cloth, although weak, should not disintegrate, fall apart under its own weight, or be ashy. Properly charred cloth requires a gentle force to tear it, and it should not leave black marks on the fingers when handled. If this happens, then you have over-cooked the cloth, or air got into the tin either during or after cooking. When cooking, I have found that heating the tin beyond a very dull red can lead to over charring —the tin only needs to be hot enough to induce the smoke to flow from the holes. Although it sounds like it might be difficult to get it just right, it really isn't. Just wait until the smoke stops flowing from the holes, wait maybe thirty seconds longer just for luck, then plug the holes and you will get a usable product. The length of time that it takes to cook varies depending upon the amount of cloth that you have in the tin. I generally do only about a dozen pieces at a time in a small tin, and this usually only takes about five minutes to cook, but I never time it, I always go by watching the smoke.

Generating Sparks

To use the char cloth, you need to generate a spark. You will need a length of hard high-carbon steel. When I first started out, I used the bare steel handle of a metal file. Later, when I got a local blacksmith to make a replica fire steel for me, I got him to make it out of an old file that he had in the shop. Every other kind of steel that I tried was too soft to produce a good spark. Fortunately, old steel files are relatively easy to find. For flints, I have used flint, jasper, and locally found chert. You can obtain these materials from a rock shop or lapidary supplier.

I hold the flint in one hand, and strike it a downward blow with the steel. When I used the steel file, I was able to get sparks that would work, but they were weak. Once I had a replica fire steel, I was able to generate sparks that bounced a couple of feet, and hurt when they landed on my hand —that is the kind of spark you want to strive to generate! When you can hear your sparks fizzing as they fly, you know you have achieved your goal!

Creating a Flame

The first time you attempt to make a fire, I suggest the following method. Place a nice nest of small kindling on the ground. Select a nice piece of char cloth for tinder, and place it on top of the "nest". Hold your flint over the cloth, and strike away! When a spark has been caught, pick up the nest of kindling, and fold it around the cloth. Hold it above the level of your face (to avoid getting smoke in your eyes) and blow gently. Within a few seconds, your bundle should burst into flames. David Thompson wrote about the 'Canadians' (voyageurs) waving their tinder in the air to get a flame. It works, but blowing is easier to control when you are a beginner.

Once you have had a little practice, you can try another method which I now use all the time, and which is great if the ground is snowy or wet. Take your piece of tinder and fold it down to a compact square. Place this on top of a flat flint so that the edge of the tinder is right next to the edge that you are going to strike. Hold the flint and tinder tightly with your thumb, and strike. More often than not the tinder catches a spark on my first strike. I then put away my fire steel and flint, and take a handful of dry small kindling out of my tinderbox, place the tinder on it, fold it over, and away I go. If I smoked, I could probably light my cheroot straight from the compact, glowing tinder. Folding a piece of tinder this way is also a great way to increase its heat, which really helps when your small kindling is shavings or thin sticks that you have split from your large kindling with a knife. With a little practice, I have been able to generate a flaming pile of small kindling in as little as 20 seconds. With more practice, I have no doubt that I can improve on that time!

Use of the Burning Glass

Another way to get a spark onto your tinder is to use a 'burning glass'. A magnifying glass of the Sherlock Holmes variety will instantly start your tinder glowing. My tinder box, which I purchased from a reproductions supplier in the United States, has a tight friction-fit lid that also contains a magnifying glass. I use it to hold my tinder, fire steel, and a little bit of small kindling for wet conditions. It looks period, and works great! (How often have you heard the phrase 'Keep your tinder dry'? Well, now you actually have to do it!)

Charred cloth appears to have been the universal tinder two hundred years ago, but what did people use when cloth was too precious a commodity to burn? What did the voyageurs, traders, and Indians use? In his Narrative, David Thompson noted that 'a Canadian never neglects to have touchwood for his pipe.' (p. 199). Touchwood is a kind of fungus that grows on tree trunks. The voyageurs likely charred this to turn it into tinder. In fact, I suspect that just about any charred organic material will work as tinder. All of those materials that I tried so long ago in their 'raw' form would probably have worked reasonably well once charred.

Use of Old Fire Remains

What if you have run out of charred cloth? I have had success using the remains of the previous evening's fire by using my knife to cut down to the deep charred layer of a partly-burned log. Such a layer will catch and hold sparks, although not as easily as with charred cloth. If the sun is out and you have a burning glass, you can get it glowing hot in a few seconds.

That is all there is to it! It is surprisingly easy and fast once you have had a little practice. Start experimenting, and if you have any suggestions or comments, please write to the editor and they will be printed in the 'Company Dispatches' column.

References

Thompson, David. David Thompson's Narrative, 1784 - 1812. Richard Glover ed. Champlain Society : Toronto, 1962.