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Western United States, The

<h2>DEATH VALLEY</h2> To most of us Death Valley is thought of only as a mysterious region somewhere in the Southwest, a place which we are accustomed to picture to ourselves as being the embodiment of everything that is desolate and lifeless,—a region where there is no water, where there are no living things, simply bare rocks and sand upon which the sun beats pitilessly and over which the scorching winds blow in clouds of dust. The reality is hardly so bad as this, for there are living things in the valley, and water may occasionally be found. Nevertheless it is a fearful spot in summer, and has become the final resting place of many wanderers in these desert regions, who having drunk all their water failed to find more. We have already learned something about the Great Basin: we know that it is made up of vast desert plains or valleys, separated by a few partly isolated mountain ranges. The valleys are peculiar in that they are basins without outlets, and for this reason are known as sinks. Many of the lakes once occupying the valleys are now quite or nearly dry, and the lower portions of their beds are either whitened with deposits of borax and soda, or have been transformed into barren expanses of hardened yellow clay. The long, gentle slopes about the sinks, which have been built up by the waste rock from the mountains, as a result of the occasional cloudbursts are dotted with sage-brush, greasewood, or other low plants, and furnish a home for numerous animals. Back of the gravel slopes rise the mountains, browned under the fierce rays of the summer sun. In some of their deeper cañons little springs and streams are found, but the water usually dries up before leaving the protecting shadows of the cliffs. Toward the mountain tops the desert juniper appears; and if the peaks rise high enough to get more of the moisture of the cooler air, they support groves of the piñon and possibly yellow pine. The valleys are all much alike. In summer the days are unbearably hot, while in winter the air is cool and invigorating. The skies are overcast for only a few days in the year, but in the autumn and spring fierce winds, laden with dust and sand, sweep across the valleys and through the mountain passes. Strange rock forms, of many contrasting colors, worn out by wind and water, mark the desert mountains. The granite wears a brown, sunburned coat, while the masses of black lava show here and there patches of pink, yellow, and red. The air is often so wondrously clear that distant mountains seem much nearer than they really are. During the hot summer days the mirage forms apparent lakes and shady groves, illusions which have lured many a thirsty traveller to his death. Death Valley is the lowest and hottest of the desert basins. Its surface, over four hundred feet below the level of the sea, is the lowest dry land in the United States. The valley is long and narrow and enclosed by mountains. Those upon the east are known as the Funeral Mountains, while upon the west the peaks of the Panamint Range rise to a height of about ten thousand feet. If the rainfall were greater, Death Valley would be occupied by a salt or alkaline lake, but in this dry region lakes cannot exist, and the bottom of the sink, sometimes marshy after exceptional winter rains, is in many places almost snowy white from deposits of salt, soda, or borax. Death Valley, then, differs from scores of other valleys in the Great Basin by being a little lower, a little hotter, and a little more arid. Strange as it may seem, old prospectors say that Death Valley is the best watered of all the desert valleys. Since it is the lowest spot in all the surrounding country, the scanty water supply all flows toward it. But the water runs under the gravels of the old river beds instead of on the top, where it might be utilized. Occasionally, however, the water comes to the surface in the form of springs, which are marked by a few willows or mesquite trees and little patches of salt grass. Long ago, when the rainfall was greater, Death Valley was a saline lake and received a number of streams, two of which were large enough to be called rivers. The Amargoza River, starting from Nevada and pursuing a roundabout way, entered the southern end of the valley. The Mohave River, which rises in the San Bernardino Range, also emptied into the valley at one time, but now its waters, absorbed by the thirsty air and by the sands, disappear in the sink of the Mohave fifty miles to the south. The summer is the dreaded season in Death Valley. A temperature of one hundred and thirty-seven degrees has been reported by the Pacific Coast Borax Company at the mouth of Furnace Creek. This temperature was recorded in the shade, and is the hottest ever experienced in the United States. In the sun it is of course much hotter. Many a person has lost his life in trying to cross the heated valley in the middle of a summer day instead of making the journey at night. <div class="img_ctr" style="width: 517px;"> <ANTIMG src="images/fig073.jpg" width-obs="517" height-obs="353" alt="Fig. 73"> FIG. 73.—ENTERING DEATH VALLEY</div> Dangerous as this region is, even now when we know so much about it, it was of course much more dangerous for the first white men who entered it. Only those who have had some experience upon the desert can realize the difficulties and dangers which beset the first emigrants who attempted to cross the deserts lying between Salt Lake City and the Sierra Nevada mountains. The story of the sufferings and final escape of that party which, by taking the wrong course, was lost in the great sink, is extremely interesting although sad. The valley received its name from the experiences of the members of this party. In the latter part of 1849 many emigrants, who had reached Salt Lake City too late in the season to take the usual route through northern Nevada and over the Sierra Nevada mountains, decided that rather than remain in the town all winter, they would follow the south trail across southern Nevada to San Bernardino and Los Angeles. A party of people finally collected with one hundred and seven wagons and about five hundred horses and cattle. The course led in a southwesterly direction past Sevier Lake and Mountain Meadows in southwestern Utah. In the latter locality the party divided, the larger number leaving the old trail and taking a more westerly direction. They thought in this way to shorten the distance, and hoped, by skirting the southern end of the Sierra Nevada mountains, to-gain the San Joaquin Valley in California. Now trouble began. No one had ever been over the new route, and the location of the springs and the passes through which the wagons could be taken had to be sought out in advance. Soon many of the party turned back to the known trail, but the others continued, though with no knowledge of the nature of the country which they must cross. Day after day and week after week the slow ox-teams crawled across the broad deserts and over the low mountain ranges. From the top of each successive mountain ridge the men looked with longing eyes toward the west, hoping to get a sight of the snowy Sierras. Finally want of water and food began to weaken the cattle and the wagons were lightened as much as possible. As the party approached the eastern boundary of California the mountains grew higher and the deserts more arid. In the clear air the snow-covered peaks of the Panamint Range began to be visible, although one hundred miles away. The weary emigrants believed that these peaks belonged to the Sierra Nevadas, and that beyond them lay the green valleys of California. How great was their mistake! The Panamint Range looks down upon Death Valley with a bold and almost impassable front, while still other broad deserts lie between this range and the real Sierras. Upon reaching the head of the Amargosa River the party began to separate, for by this time many thought only of saving their lives at any cost. Some followed Furnace Creek to its sink in Death Valley; others went over the Funeral range and came down upon the lower portion of the Amargosa River. In many cases the wagons were abandoned and the oxen were killed for food. When they came into the sink we now know as Death Valley, the members of the different parties began to feel that they were really lost. From the records that have come down to us we can see that they had not the slightest idea of the direction which they should take or of their distance from the settlements in California. Fortunately it was the winter season and the heat did not trouble them; moreover, the rains and snows furnished some water. None of the wagons were taken beyond the camp at the western edge of the valley, under the towering peaks of the Panamint Range. This place is now known as Bennett's Wells. Here the wagons were broken up and burned, and the loads, which were now very light, were either taken by the men themselves or placed upon the backs of the few remaining oxen. It was thought that the fair fields of California would be seen from the top of the Panamint Range; but when the travellers reached the summit other desert valleys appeared in the west, and beyond these, in the dim distance, another snowy range was visible. The emigrants now divided into parties. One party reached Owens Lake, and turning south, finally passed over the Sierras by the way of Walkers Pass and went down the valley of the Kern River. Another, the Bennett party, including some women and children, remained at the springs in Death Valley, while two of the men started out alone, in the hope of reaching the settlements and returning with food. These men crossed the Panamint Range and struggled on for days in a southwesterly direction, over desert valleys and mountains. They were frequently on the point of giving up in despair for want of food and water. At last, far to the south, the snowy crest of the San Gabriel Range came into sight. Continuing in a southwesterly direction through the Mohave Desert, the men reached a low pass in the mountains and followed a stream until they came upon a Mexican ranch, where the sight of green meadows, upon which horses and cattle were feeding, delighted their weary eyes. Several animals were secured and loaded with food. Then the men turned back into the desert. They at last reached the desolate valley again, after an absence of about a month, and found most of the party alive, although nearly driven to despair. With the aid of a mule and several oxen, the party came safely to the fertile valleys near the coast. Another party, known as the Jayhawkers, struggled on behind the two men who went for relief, and the most of its members also came safely out of the desert, though not without extreme suffering. In all, fourteen people of this expedition perished. <div class="img_ctr" style="width: 517px;"> <ANTIMG src="images/fig074.jpg" width-obs="517" height-obs="378" alt="Fig. 74"> FIG. 74.—SOUTHERN END OF DEATH VALLEY Showing the white deposits of soda </div> If you ever have an opportunity to travel over this region, you will wonder that any of the people escaped. The seemingly endless succession of deserts and mountains, the lack of food, and the scanty supply of water, often unfit to drink, would lead one to think that strangers to these wilds would be far more likely to perish than to find their way out. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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