To Fort Colvile
Henry James Warre’s painting of Fort Colvile, from near the River Columbia, April 1848. 434451_Warre_0068. Used with the permission of the American Antiquarian Society
So, in this post we continue following Governor George Simpson, as he makes his way west through the Rocky Mountains to Fort Colvile in 1841. Again, we are relying on what the mysterious document called “Rough Notes” says, to determine if this is really him. Of course it is: and I am happy to tell you that the BC Archives has changed their description of this document to reflect that it is now known to be Governor Simpson’s rough notes.
Governor Simpson and his party have through the mountains, but there are more mountain ranges ahead of them. With luck, he will reach Fort Colvile, on the Columbia River, in this post. Let’s see if we can do it.
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We ended the last post in this series with the story from An Overland Journey Round the World, as briefly mentioned in his “Rough Notes.” I am still unclear as to who actually wrote these rough notes: it might take a handwriting expert to sort this out. The author might be 20-year-old Edward Hopkins, his secretary, who kept track of Simpson’s thoughts. But it might also be Simpson himself who wrote this. Whatever we might argue, I am more inclined to think that the author of the “Rough Notes” is the Governor himself, rather than Hopkins. So, from An Overland Journey Round the World, from my last post:
The ascent of the mountain was rugged and difficult. Though the forests were more practicable than those of yesterday, yet our track lay generally on the steep and stony edge of a glen, down which gushed the sources of the Columbia. At one very remarkable spot, known as the Red Rock, our path climbed the dry part of the bed of a boiling torrent, while the narrow ravine was literally darkened by almost perpendicular walls of a thousand or fifteen hundred feet in height; and to render the chasm still more gloomy, the opposite crags threw forward each in its own forest of sombre pines into the intervening space. The rays of the sun could barely find their way to the depth of this dreary vale so as to render the darkness visible, and the hoarse murmur of the angry stream, as it bounded to escape from the dismal jaw of its prison, only to make the place appear more lonely and desolate. We were glad to emerge from this horrid gorge, which depressed our spirits even more than it overawed our feelings.
Our road then lay over some high hills of parched clay, where the reflection of the heat from below and a scorching sun above almost roasted us alive… From these hills an abrupt descent brought us into a large prairie, through which our river wound a serpentine course; and as the loaded horses did not arrive till five o’clock, we here encamped for the night, making one hearty meal for the day after a fast of twenty-four hours. Our day’s work of twenty miles had fatigued us all to excess, for by reason of the steepness and ruggedness of the road, we had been obliged to walk, or rather to climb and slide, a great portion of the way. On one of the trees, however, we found something that made us forget our toils, a hieroglyphic epistle, sketched thus with a piece of burned wood:…[I omitted this drawing.] We speedily interpreted this welcome letter to mean, that Edward Berland was waiting us with a band of twenty-seven horses at the point where our river received a tributary before expanding itself into two consecutive lakes. As the spot in question was supposed to be within a few miles of us, Peechee was dispatched to secure our phantom guide: and two men were also sent in the opposite direction to bring up a missing pack-horse… The emigrants, having been treacherously deserted, at Bow River, by their guide, a half-breed of some education, providentially met an Indian of the name of Bras Croche, who being better acquainted with the mountains than Peechee, carried them through a little to the southward by a pass infinitely superior to ours; and they fell upon our track again near our present encampment.
Edouard Berland also arrived: he had been sick, although Simpson doubted the truth of that statement. His horses, however, were unbroken and had never been ridden or even used as packhorses. Most of the horses they had used until now were returned to Edmonton House, and Simpson’s party continued their journey toward Fort Colvile.
The article, “Red River Metis: the First Large Settler Group in Oregon Territory,” tells us that Sinclair’s expedition passed by Lake Pend-d’Oreille and reached Fort Nez Perces [Walla Walla] on 4th October; that night the fort burned down, but “these emigrants assisted in moving the stock and effects and by their opportune presence most of the property was saved.” The emigrants continued on to Fort Vancouver, where they arrived on 12 October 1841. So that’s what happened to the Sinclair Expedition: let’s go back to Simpson’s party of men who are on their way to Fort Colvile.
From “Rough Notes,” “8 August. Descending from the sublime to the … — a prairie of 2 miles… Flatbow Indians, at 2:00 Kootenay Lake… for supper.” This is what Simpson’s book, An Overland Journey, says:
It was eleven o’clock before we evacuated this fearful nest of mosquitoes. As we advanced, the mountains gradually became softer, while their summits were no longer clad with snow. The scenery, from having been sublime, was now merely picturesque. Our path lay along a prairie of about two miles in width skirted on the right by sloping hills, and on the left by the mountains, presenting at their bases an apparently artificial arrangement of terraces and shrubberies. In consequence of the recent droughts, every horse raised such a cloud of dust as to conceal itself from view; and as, through the same cause the country was on fire, the atmosphere was filled with smoke so as to give the sun the same appearance of a red wafer which he so often assumes in the murky skies of London.
In the afternoon we saw a lodge of Flat-blow Indians… We encamped at the commencement of the second Kootenais Lake, obtaining for supper a few small trout of excellent flavour, absurdly enough called by the Canadians poisson connu [“well-known” fish].
So, it is clear that the writer of this journal was familar with the smokey skies of London. That alone eliminates a ton of people as author of this piece. But, to continue: From “Rough Notes,” “9 August. A yellow crust on the stones at the bed of the stream. 3 hot springs taste of alum?.. Park like prairies along the Kootenais. Clear water and fine trout. Encamped with the Kootenais Indians on McDonald’s River. A long grand quiet lake 20 miles….Edmonton to Fort Colvile, 6 weeks and 5 days.” Now, from An Overland Journey:
After passing slowly through some woods in the morning, we crossed a hill of considerable height, and on reaching the valley below, where we intended to breakfast, we were surprised to find it pre-occupied by a party of whites and their horses. Our new friends proved to be a guide and two men, whom Mr. [Archibald] McDonald, of Fort Colvile, immediately on hearing of Berland’s illness, had sent to take his place. They, of course, brought no horses, expecting to have charge of the sick man’s band… On encamping for the night at the southern end of the long lake, one of the party was found to be missing — a circumstance which, considering the perils that we had encountered even with the help of daylight, excited a good deal of alarm.
I had to work hard to fit Archibald McDonald in here, as of course I presumed, incorrectly, that this was Angus McDonald. As for the lost man, he arrived at the camp about 11 o’clock, having got himself lost. And their guide is now Pion: that is an old name in this district, and this man must be William Pion, born at Fort Colvile of a Canadian father (Louis Pion), and a First Nations woman from Kamloops. He began work in the fur trade in Kamloops in 1828, and by 1840 was a middleman at Fort Colvile. He would likely be among the men who carried Governor Simpson and his party down the river to Fort Vancouver. To continue the story: they reach the lake where Edouard Berland had his little hut, and while they were there Le Graisse and Joe Tayentas returned from their expedition to another traverse on the Bow River, searching for Berland. Charlo is also here, bringing in supplies for Berland. This is Charles, an Iroquois man who travelled with David Thompson down the Columbia River to Astoria in 1811.
So, from “Rough Notes,” “14 August. At Kullyspell Lake.” From Simpson’s book An Overland Journey:
About six in the evening we reached the Kullyspelm Lake, a beautiful sheet of water, embosomed in mountains, to which the burning woods, more particularly at night, gave the appearance of volcanoes. Our boat proved to be a flat-bottomed batteaux, capable of carrying all our baggage and ourselves with a crew of five men. The rest of our party went forward by land to the rendezvous, where we were to meet our fresh horses.
“Rough Notes:” “15 August Pend-d’Oreille River.”
Starting about five in the morning, we crossed the lake in two hours, and then running down the Pend-d’Oreille River, we reached our rendezvous about eight in the evening. The banks were well covered with excellent timber, while behind here rose on either side a line of lofty hills. The soil appeared to be rich, and the stream was deep and navigable, excepting that, at one cascade, a portage was necessary.
“Rough Notes.” “16 August. Prairie & Mountain. Encamped at foot 50 miles from Colvile.” From An Overland Journey:
Early in the afternoon our people arrived from the Kullespelm Lake, bringing us such a report of the roads as made us doubly thankful for the accommodation of the boat. Leave our old band of horses under the charge of the Indians, we immediately started with thirty-two fresh steeds. After crossing a prairie of two or three miles in length, we spent two hours in ascending a steep mountain, from whose summit we gained an extensive view of ranges of rocky hills; and while the shadows of evening had already fallen on the valley at our feet, the rays of the setting sun were still tingeing the highest peaks with a golden hue.
We encamped at the foot of the mountain with wolfish appetites, for though we had had a good deal of exercise during the day, yet we had eaten nothing since seven in the morning; but what was our disappointment to find that six horses — one of them, as a matter of course, being the commissariat’s steed — were missing. Having exhausted our patience, we went supperless to bed about midnight; but hardly had we turned in, when a distant shout made us turn out again in better spirits. The horses quickly arrived; and before an hour had elapsed, we had dispatched a very tolerable allowance of venison and buffalo tongues.
Where did they get the buffalo tongues?? From “Rough Notes,” “17 August. Four or 500 company [calves?] grazing by a stream. Pretty valley. Colvile in a prairie, small lake & Columbia River at one end.” From An Overland Journey:
Next morning, as Fort Colvile was only fifty miles distant from our encampment, we resolved in reliance on fresh horses and tolerable roads to wind up with a gallop. We accordingly raced along, raising from the parched prairie such a cloud of dust as concealed everything from view. In about five hours we reached a small stream on the banks of which four or five hundred of the company’s horses were grazing. Not to lose so fine an opportunity of changing our sweating steads, we allowed our cavalcade to proceed, while each of us caught the animal that pleased him the best; and then, dashing off at full speed, we quickly overtook our party at a distance of six miles. Being again united, we here halted for breakfast. Meanwhile, Mr. McDonald, who had received my letter at Fort Colvile on the preceding evening, had met our people before we came up with them, but by mistaking the road had missed us. Sending a messenger after him, we had him with us in half an hour and along with him such materials for a feast as we had not seen since leaving Red River. Just fancy, at the base of the Rocky Mountains, a roasted turkey, a suckling pig, new bread, fresh butter, eggs, ale, &c; and then contrast all these dainties with short allowance of pemmican and water. No wonder that some of our party ate more than what was good for them.
At about this time, John Rowand took a bath in the river and his pants floated away with the current. He stayed in the river until someone caught up with his pants and brought them back to him. To continue: from An Overland Journey…
As soon as we had finished our morning’s meal, we set out for the fort, having an hour’s good ride before us. On reaching the summit of a hill, we obtained a fine view of the pretty little valley in which Colvile is situated. In a prairie of three or four miles in length, with the Columbia River at one end and a small lake in the centre, we descried the now novel scene of a large farm — barns, stables, &c, and herds of cattle grazing at will beyond the fences. By the time that we reached the establishment we found about eight men, whites and savages, all ready in their Sunday’s best, to receive us at the gate.
Our clothes were the only sufferers; and in fact, we made our appearance among the men who waited at the gate to do us honor, with tattered garments and crownless hats, such as many of them would not have deigned to pick up at their feet.
So we made it to Fort Colvile, as promised. To return to the first post in this series, go here: https://nancymargueriteanderson.com/simpsons-rough-notes/
If you want to see the “Rough Notes” I am speaking of (that is, the Rough Notes that started me on this chase), go here: https://nancymargueriteanderson.com/rough-notes/
When I write the next post, which I think will bring us down to Fort Vancouver and beyond, I will post it here: https://nancymargueriteanderson.com/to-fort-vancouver/
Copyright, Nancy Marguerite Anderson, 2025. All rights reserved.