Blazing West, the Journal of Augustus Pelletier, the Lewis and Clark Expedition

by Kathryn Lasky

  September 25, 1805

  Still sick. Captain Lewis gave me some of Dr. Rush’s pills, not the Thunderclappers, and a dose of jalap salts.

  September 26, 1805

  Those who are well enough begin to make canoes. Twisted Hair says that the creek by which we camp flows into one called the Clearwater, which is then joined by another river from the northeast and flows west into the Columbia. He says it is five sleeps, no more, to the Columbia River from here and then another five sleeps to the falls of the Columbia. It is probably ten. Whenever anyone tells us that something is one distance I just plain double it.

  The Captains handed out medals and beads and gave the Big Speech and all the usual. In return we received dried roots, berries, and dried fish.

  October 2, 1805

  We make good progress on building the canoes. Twisted Hair showed us how to burn out the center of the big logs. This is good and it makes short work of what would take weeks. Within one day we have a canoe in the rough. Many are still plagued with the dysentery, but not Sacajawea. I think she is used to this food — the camas roots and dried fish.

  October 5, 1805

  The canoes are finished. I help the Captains cache some paddles and canisters of powder and other equipment for the trip back east. Both Captains are feeling poorly and have troubles with their stomach and bowels. I don’t for the moment. Thank goodness.

  October 7, 1805

  Sick or not we put those canoes in the water by three o’clock this afternoon and are going downstream of the Clearwater. The Indian name for this river is the Ko˚s Ko˚s Kee. It runs very rapidly and has shoal swift places. But it sure does feel good to go downstream instead of up for the first time ever on this journey. Old Toby and his two sons are still with us, and Twisted Hair has agreed to come along, too, for he knows some of the Indians in these parts.

  October 9, 1805

  We hit some fairly scarifying rapids today. They boiled up high and furious. The Captains didn’t want to lose time with a portage around them. So we ran them. God must have been looking out for us. I don’t know how else we could have done it but we got through them safe. However, our guide Old Toby and his sons took off this evening not even waiting for their pay. I think they thought, Enough of these crazy white folks. We’re getting out of here before they really get us killed!

  October 10, 1805

  We reached the Snake River today. We must be closing in on the Columbia. We are so sick of eating dried fish. Some of the men bought dogs from Indians around here and have been eating them. But not me.

  October 14, 1805

  Thank heavens, Captain Clark shot some ducks today. I was pretty excited, but I swear I bit into that first hunk of duck and dang if it didn’t have a fishy taste! I think everything eats fish out here.

  The Indians in these parts are friendly, but I think a lot has to do with the Captains sending Sacajawea ahead with Twisted Hair. Captain Clark says when you send a woman out ahead, the Indians know that this ain’t no war party, but that we’re interested in peace. Captain Lewis is interested in words. He has this list of words, and Sacajawea is supposed to find out the Indian word for each one. Of course she doesn’t know how to read or write so she has to keep the list in her head. It is amazing how she can keep a list of forty or fifty words in her head. When I am with her I have the list written down. It has words like fish, fur, bear, eagle, canoe, moccasins. Common words. The words differ from tribe to tribe but not that much. There are a mess of different tribes in the region of the Snake and the Columbia Rivers — the Nez Percé, of course, also called the Cho-pun-nish around here, then the Yakama, the Wanapams, the Walla Walla, then farther along the Chinooks. The Cho-pun-nish dress in otter skins and for jewelry hang many beautiful shells from their ears and braid them into their hair as well. Mother-of-pearl is one of their favorites for decoration. The men don’t wear much below the waist. They don’t seem to care who sees what. The women are more modest and wear the skins of big-horn goats worked into shirts or long tunics, which they decorate with more shells, beads, and porcupine quills.

  October 15, 1805

  Took a walk with Captain Lewis this evening on a high plain above the river. In the far, far distance we saw a mountain range. These are the mountains of the Pacific.

  October 16, 1805

  Columbia River

  We are now at the junction of the Snake and Columbia Rivers. The Captain had a meeting with the head chief in this region. They sent me to get the medals and now some handkerchiefs, as we have no blue beads left. I’ve never seen an Indian blow his nose on a piece of cloth so I sure don’t know what they’ll make of these handkerchiefs. We got some dried fish and dried horse meat in exchange. Captain Lewis had me working on the word lists again. The whole country around here stinks because many of the streams and parts of the river are choked up with dead salmon. The salmon swim upstream to lay their eggs every year. Then they die right afterward. I’d die, too, if I had to swim buck naked up these streams. You should see these fish. They’re all bashed up and bloody. I can’t help but wonder how they even get the strength to lay their eggs once they get here.

  October 17, 1805

  The Indians are very friendly. They come out on the river­banks as we pass. They offer us dried fish and dog meat. I still have not eaten dog meat and don’t intend to either. The women dress differently here than upstream. They are not nearly so modest and wear only a small piece of leather around their hips and drawn between their legs. Maybe this is because the women work right alongside the men and must be ready to hop in and out of canoes and carry them on their backs or wade into the river with their fish baskets. I even saw one woman chopping down a large tree by herself. We were invited into one village and into the lodge of one family. I noticed that in the corner was a very, very old woman. She sat on a pile of rich otter furs and a young child was gently feeding her a bit of salmon. Another young girl was combing her hair, and another on the other side was braiding in pretty shells. We were told that this woman had lived more than one hundred winters and that she is blind. We asked if she was the mother or grandmother of a great chief and they said no. We understand now that she is treated this way simply because she is so old. The people who call themselves in this region the Chin-na-pum value her because she is so old and has seen so many winters. This is very different from many tribes.

  Sacajawea told me that the Shoshoni and the Minne­taree leave their old people to die alone on the plains or in the mountains. She told me that when her own grandmother became so old she could no longer walk, they built her a shelter and left her with only some water and pemmican. I guess this is the difference of being old in a tribe that must always move. The Shoshoni must always follow the horse herds for grazing. The Minnetarees and the Hidatsa travel over far ranges for hunting, but these people, the Chin-na-pum, stay mostly here on the banks of the river. It is therefore, I suppose, on the banks of a river that one does not have to fear growing old. It is on the banks of a river that your great-great-grandchildren will think your wrinkles are beautiful and braid mother-of-pearl into your hair.

  October 23, 1805

  We now come to the most dangerous part of the river with many falls and rapids too many to count. We make an exploration trip on foot several miles down. Sometimes the river narrows between high cliffs and the water pours through in gigantic churning rushes. The sound roars and one’s own voice cannot be heard above it. But the Captains have decided that there is only one place where the river drops twenty feet or more that will have to be portaged. They figure that the rest we can pass through. I am not so sure. We see the Indians of these parts do it, but they are expert watermen and their canoes are the best we have seen so far. Beautifully made and light, they seem to skim through the most turbulent water. Each canoe has an animal carved on its bow. Our canoes look ugly and awkward by comparison. These Indians who make the good canoes are called Chinooks.

  October 2
4, 1805

  We did make it. I am not sure how we did it through the first set of falls. But what awaits us today is worse. The Captains have decided to send by land all those who cannot swim and they shall carry the scientific equipment, all the journals, and the other valuable articles. The canoes are simply too heavy for this portage, so they must go with those of us who can swim. That’s me, among others. I wish it weren’t. I look down into this swelling, boiling water and I think I’m going to wind up looking like one of those bashed-up salmon. Even the Indians can’t believe we’re going to try this. There are more than a hundred of them along the banks just watching for these stupid white men to go down the river. This might be the funniest thing they’ve seen in years.

  October 25, 1805

  I’m alive. Just barely. I surely don’t know why, but we made it. More falls to come. Still time to die.

  November 3, 1805

  I have never been so happy to be through with anything in my life as with those cascading falls of the Columbia River. It would be hard to say which is worse, freezing and starving to death in the Bitterroot Mountains or being mashed up in the Columbia River, but somehow we did it. The worst came at the end with the Great Chute. Here indeed we had to portage the canoes and the baggage, although at places using elk skin ropes and manning them from the banks, we could run the canoes through without men in them.

  We are now camped on an island. The fog is so thick I can’t see Seaman, who just rushed off and is no more than twenty feet from me. I can hear him snuffing around. Then out of the fog I hear Pomp laugh. Seaman must be licking him. He loves it when Seaman does this.

  Later: You know who stood up in that fog and took a step, holding on to Seaman? Pomp!! Never heard of a boy walking so young. Not quite talking but I bet he will be by Christmas.

  November 4, 1805

  Been raining every day in this country, and fog hangs in the air most of the time. But we make at least thirty miles each day. The Indians are very poor looking and dirty, and we must keep a sharp watch at night, for many things are disappearing. We did see our first big canoes that the Captains say are the coastal ones from the sea. The largest one has a bear head carved on it. Very handsome.

  November 7, 1805

  The fog really cleared off today and suddenly Captain Clark stood up and then shouted so as to shake the entire canoe. “The ocean! The ocean is in view!” We were all so excited that every canoe began to rock as men forgot and began to stand up and dance and jump. My Lord, after all these miles, after 4,124 miles to be exact, to see the ocean! We quickly went to the bank of the river and the Captains sent me up a tree. I crawled out on a long branch that pointed west and yes, even as it began to rain I could see it. It was a blue smear, like a distant frayed ribbon pressed beneath the heavy gray sky. The great Pacific Ocean.

  November 8, 1805

  As we proceed we feel the great pull of the ocean’s tide even though we are several miles from it. We must regard the ebb and the flow of the tide and make our camp with this in mind. The water is already very salty to the taste and gains salt with each mile.

  November 10, 1805

  The weather is terrible and has been for two days. Lashed by heavy winds and rains. Trees are uprooted and the river throws up huge waves. Everything is wet and cold. This is a terrible campsite for we seem to catch every wind and torrent of foul weather. There is no shelter in this bay of the river. The food is all bad, for most of our meat has spoiled and many of the men are feeling very ill. One might think our main purpose for being here is to feed the fleas. They have found us and invaded — our hair, our clothes, every part of our body. There is talk of looking for another campsite, for indeed we shall have to spend the winter here before we begin our homeward journey.

  November 13, 1805

  I am to leave within the hour with Shannon and Privates John Colter and Willard and Reuben and Joseph Field to explore the river and around the point for another campsite. We will take two canoes.

  November 14, 1805

  Last night we found a better campsite on a sandy beach in the bay. Colter and Reuben Field returned to tell the Captains. I was glad I was not expected to go for I did something else. This morning before daybreak I left our camp alone and made my way toward the sea. I am the first person of this expedition to stand at the edge of the western ocean. Its water has touched my moccasins. But this sea was not shining for it was dawn and the sun was still rising in the east and had not touched it yet. Nor was it Pacific and peaceful as its name says. The waves rolled in with thunderous roars.

  But now this evening I come once more and watch as the sun sets, and for the time the rain has stopped. The waves still crash but when I look out beyond the froth of the breaking water, I do indeed see a shining sea, spilling now with such colors. It is as if a rainbow of water has been laid down and stretches forever. I think back. I began this journal with my ear just stitched up with wildcat gut after it nearly got sliced off. I go back to that first page of this journal and I can see the drop of blood, faded but still there. I cannot believe how far I have come. I have crossed mountains and paddled long rivers. I have held a baby and made a friend named Bird Woman. I have learned how to find my true place standing on earth using the stars. I have named a falls Silverwing Woman that runs with silver cords of water, and now I have come to the Shining Sea. I bend down and take some drops of this water. You ever see ink mixed with salt water?

  Augustus Pelletier never forgot the Shining Sea. He returned with the Lewis and Clark expedition which arrived in St. Louis on September 23, 1806. He continued to assist Meriwether Lewis with the organization of his notes, journals, and various specimens even after Captain Lewis had been appointed governor of the Louisiana territory. Lewis however fell into a deep depression and committed suicide on October 11, 1809. At that time Captain William Clark turned his and Lewis’s journals over to Nicholas Biddle, a Philadelphia lawyer, to edit. He recommended that Biddle hire Augustus Pelletier, who was the person most familiar with Lewis’s notes and specimens. Augustus worked for a time with Biddle but then became frustrated with the slow pace of the work. He longed to see the Shining Sea again. At the age of twenty he hired himself out as a guide for the Missouri Fur Trading company. He soon became known as a good fur trader and at the mouth of the Columbia river opened a trading station that served American ships purchasing furs from the China trade which was just beginning.

  Augustus was very successful yet there was great unrest among the Indians. On a trip back east to explore the possibilities of opening an office in St. Louis for his fur trading he saw Sacajawea. She had remained for a time in Saint Louis, with her son Jean Baptiste, at the home of Captain William Clark, who had married his sweetheart, Judith. She then joined Charbonneau on the upper Missouri where he spent the rest of his life interpreting for government officials. They did however leave their son Jean Baptiste behind with the Clark family to be educated. In 1812 Sacajawea gave birth to a second child, a daughter Lisette, at Fort Mandan but later that winter Sacajawea fell ill and died.

  When Augustus learned of Sacajawea’s death he was deeply saddened. Captain Clark had promised to educate Sacajawea’s children and it was Augustus who helped arrange for the tiny child Lisette to be returned to St. Louis. He visited the children regularly over the years in the Clark home and on one occasion met a music teacher engaged for Lisette and fell in love with her. Her name was Emily Calderwood. They married and for their honeymoon they traveled up the Missouri once again. He took Emily to a new falls that he discovered on one of his fur trading trips. It was not far from the ones he had named for his mother. These falls however he named Emily for the sound of its water was as musical as his bride’s voice.

  In early 1803, a group of events occurred almost simultaneously. These events were essential to the success of the Corps of Volunteers for Northwest Discovery. Like many other people in the United States, President Thomas Jefferson dreamed of the No
rthwest Passage. The Northwest Passage was said to be a river route across the continent, through the western mountains, to the Pacific Ocean. Such a route would enable ships to quickly and economically reach the new trade routes established between the Pacific Northwest coast and the Orient.

  With these thoughts foremost in his mind, President Jefferson asked Congress for $2,500 to outfit a small party of men to explore the Missouri River as far as the Pacific Ocean. The expedition would seek a water route through the continent and open trade relations with the Indians. It was to be a commercial venture, seeking trading partners and trade routes, as well as a scientific venture.

  At this early date in 1803, it was probable that Jefferson’s proposed expedition would travel through foreign countries’ land possessions. Great Britain claimed the Pacific Northwest; Spain, the Southwest and much of the West; and France, the Louisiana Territory. Jefferson asked the ministers of these three countries for passports for an expedition made up of “An intelligent officer with ten or twelve chosen men, fit for the enterprise and willing to undertake it.”