by
KRISTEN LOKEMOEN
It was
April 7, 1805 and, as the keelboat headed back to St.
Louis, the men, woman, child, and dog who comprised the
Corps of Discovery's "permanent party" pointed their boats
to the west. Their goal was to reach the Pacific Ocean,
hopefully by summer. But beyond the next few bends of the
Missouri River lay mostly unknown territory.
Meriwether Lewis, William Clark and the rest of the men
were glad to be back on the river after their long, cold
winter at Fort Mandan. Fortunately, the spring of 1805
would prove to be one of the least difficult and most
beautiful parts of the journey for them.
In camp that first night, Lewis reflected on the journey so
far, and considered what lay ahead: "We were now about to
penetrate a country at least two thousand miles in width,
on which the foot of civilized man had never trodden; the
good or evil it had in store for us was for experiment yet
to determine, and these little vessels contained every
article by which we were to expect to subsist or defend
ourselves."
Lewis expressed his optimism for a successful conclusion to
their mission and "esteem this moment of my departure as
among the most happy of my life." He and Clark would often
write their journal entries in the buffalo skin tepee that
they shared with Drouillard and the Charbonneau family. The
other men slept outside in the elements.
With the keelboat gone, the white pirogue took its place as
the fleet's flagship. While smaller than the red pirogue,
the white boat was considered the more stable and sturdy of
the two. It usually carried at least one of the captains,
as well as the most important physical possessions of the
expedition: medicine, trade goods, gunpowder, astronomical
equipment, and, of greatest value, the irreplaceable
journals.
At least the pace had quickened. Without the keelboat to
maneuver, the expedition was now often covering up to 25
miles a day, twice the distance that they had been able to
make in the past. On the eighth day out of Fort Mandan,
they traveled beyond the farthest point previously reached
by white men. Lewis and Clark had gleaned as much
information from the Hidatsas as they possibly could, but
the picture of what awaited them was nowhere near complete.
The astronauts who first went to the moon had a better idea
of what to expect than the Corps of Discovery now did.
One of the "wonders" that the Corps had heard much about
was the grizzly bear. The Indians had told many stories
about the strength and ferocity of this animal, but the
white men were confident that their rifles would be more
than adequate defense. Once they started to encounter
grizzlies, however, their respect grew quickly. Often
several shots would be fired into the animals and still
they would keep coming at the men.
Other wildlife that was new to them included the snow goose
and the gray wolf. Game was plentiful in the form of
buffalo, elk, antelope and deer. Beaver were trapped by
many of the men for the value of their pelts and for the
tail, which had become their favorite delicacy.
By late April, the party had reached the Yellowstone River
and in early May, Clark reckoned that they had reached the
2,000-mile point on the Missouri. As they traveled along,
the captains gave names to the various tributaries that
flowed into the Missouri. Few of the names stuck, however.
It took so long for the journals to be published that most
of the rivers had already been given other designations by
explorers and trappers who followed Lewis & Clark.
They met no Indians, so the addition of Charbonneau as
interpreter was of no value during this stretch. As a
boatman, he was termed by Lewis as "perhaps the most timid
waterman in the world." On May 11, Charbonneau was at the
helm of the white piroque when wind caught its sail. In a
panic, the Frenchman allowed the boat to fill with water
and items started to float away.
Without the calm reaction and quick thinking of Sakakawea,
many items, including the journals, could have been lost.
She retrieved at least most of the articles that were going
overboard. Whether parts of the journals or field notes
were lost in this incident can never be truly known.
By the end of May, the Corps of Discovery had reached the
section of the Missouri that remains the most untouched
today: the Missouri River Breaks and the White Cliffs. For
the men, this 160-mile stretch was difficult to endure. The
river twisted and turned constantly and was filled with
sharp rocks. The ropes used to tow the boats were worn and
starting to break. Lewis wrote of his men: "their labour is
incredibly painfull and great, yet those faithfull fellows
bear it without a murmur."
Whither
the Missouri?
In early June, the party encountered a large river flowing
into the Missouri that had not been mentioned by the
Hidatsas. One of the most crucial issues to be decided
during the journey now faced them: which of the streams was
the Missouri? If they made the wrong choice, the success of
the expedition and their very lives could be in jeopardy.
Lewis and Clark set out with small parties on foot, each
group traveling along one of the streams. They walked up to
30 miles a day.
On June 8, they regrouped and the captains conferred on
what they had seen. They agreed that the south fork was the
true Missouri. The north fork, which Lewis had explored,
was named the Marias River in honor of his cousin. Every
one of the men disagreed with the captains on which river
was the Missouri, but such was their faith in Lewis &
Clark that they followed them without hesitation.
Fortunately, the captains were correct.
To lighten their load, the first cache was made at the
mouth of the Marias. The red pirogue, along with beaver
pelts and a portion of the gunpowder and supplies, were
buried to await their return. Clark then commanded the
remaining boats as they headed upstream, while Lewis,
Drouillard and three privates went overland in search of
the Great Falls.
On June 13, Lewis finally heard the sound of water falling.
He followed the sound until he was able "to gaze on this
sublimely grand specticle-the grandest sight I ever
beheld." The Hidatsas had spoken of one falls that they
felt could be portaged in half a day. To Lewis' growing
dismay, he found five falls stretching over 12 miles.
Clark and the others were now waiting at the foot of the
rapids. It was time to map out plans for the portage. With
the beginning of summer, the days would start getting
shorter. Lewis and Clark had already seen the Rocky
Mountains in the distance, mountains that were larger than
anything they knew from back home. The portage around the
falls would obviously be time consuming. At times the
Pacific Ocean must have seemed farther away than ever.
Looking back at the expedition from the distance of 200
years, from a time when travel is measured in hours and
communication is instantaneous, it is almost impossible to
fathom the strength and dedication that were the hallmark
of the Corps of Discovery. Day after day, week after week,
month after month, the men rowed and pulled and pushed the
boats against the current of the Missouri, against strong
headwinds that wanted to drive them back, and against their
own fatigue. And the worst was yet to come.
Kristen
Lokemen is a staff writer and travel specialist for Show-Me
Missouri. She assisted in conducting several tours of the
Lewis and Clark Trail from Missouri to the Oregon
coast.