Over the High Plains

Twelve miles of waterless prairie lay between Blackfoot Camp and what was then considered the headwaters of Cherry Creek. In connecting the two, the Cherokee Trail ran a near straight line over extensive buffalo pastures, across dry creekbeds and deep ravines, and through lightly-timbered bottoms.

The High Plains

Rufus B. Sage, 13 September 1842.

“Our course during the day bore southward, and led...to an interesting plateau, furrowed at intervals by deep canons, enclosing broad bottoms of rich alluvion, and ridged upon either hand by high hills of pine and ledges of naked rock.

The streams are generally timberless, - the soil of the highlands is of a red, clayey mould, and quite fertile. Instead of the aridity incident to the neighboring prairiets, it is usually humid.

Source: Rocky Mountain Life, by Francis Parkman. (Lincoln: Univ. of Nebraska Press, 1982).

Philip St. George Cook, 24 July 1845.

“We were marching over the flat highlands; the novelty of forest trees diversifying the prairie was still delightful: - there was no water; for fifteen miles we marched on; but a cool breeze fanned our faces, and a pleasant screen of clouds befriended us.”

Source: Scenes and Adventures in the Army, by Philip St. George Cooke. (Philadelphia, 1859).

Francis Parkman, 17 August 1846.

“We pushed through an extensive tract of pine woods. Large black squirrels were leaping among the branches. From the further edge of the forest we saw the prairie again, hollowed out before us into a vast basin, and about a mile in front we could discern a little black speck moving upon the surface. It could be nothing but a buffalo. Henry primed his rifle afresh and galloped forward. To the left of the animal was a low rocky mound, of which Henry availed himself in making his approach. After a short time we heard the faint report of the rifle. The bull, mortally wounded from a distance of nearly three hundred yards, ran wildly round and round in a circle. Shaw and I then galloped forward, and passing him as he ran, foaming with rage and pain, we discharged our pistols into his side. Once or twice he rushed furiously upon us, but his strength was rapidly exhausted. Down he fell on his knees. For one instant he glared up at his enemies with burning eyes through his black tangled mane, and then rolled over on his side. Though gaunt and thin, he was larger and heavier than the largest ox. Foam and blood blew together from his nostrils as he lay bellowing and pawing the ground, tearing up grass and earth with his hoofs. His sides rose and fell like a vast pair of bellows, the blood spouting up in jets from the bullet-holes. Suddenly his glaring eyes became like a lifeless jelly. He lay motionless on the ground. Henry stooped over him, and making an incision with his knife, pronounced the meat too rank and tough for use; so, disappointed in our hopes of an addition to our stock of provisions, we rode away and left the carcass to the wolves.”

Source: The Oregon Trail, by Francis Parkman. (New York: Airmont Publishing Co.).

Luke Tierney, 21 June 1858.

“In the afternoon we traveled about sixteen miles over luxuriant plains, well adapted to the cultivation of grass, corn, wheat, barley, and oats, but entirely destitute of timber and water.”