Diary of Mary Ann Evans, On the Oregon Trail:

Leaving South Pass, we are on the west side of the Continental Divide. Rivers flow west to the Pacific Ocean. Whether fast and dangerous or slow and deceptive, each river crossing is the potential for disaster. We cross rivers with steep banks leading into and out of the water, rivers with quicksand, rivers with sudden deep pools. Only two had ferries, none had bridges since the second day out from the Missouri River. Water is life to our livestock and to us, but to those who have had all their possessions swept away, or even had a family member drown, the rivers are loss, and even sudden death. Starting on this journey, I could not have foreseen what danger we would find in crossing all these rivers. They look so pretty, and even peaceful.

It is ten days of travel to arrive at Fort Bridger, where they have a blacksmith and supplies of food and clothing. But our wagon train has voted to take the Sublette Cutoff to Fort Hall, skipping the detour to Fort Bridger. Many who are planning to go on to the Mormon center at Salt Lake City, and others who want to the easier trip to Fort Hall, left us at the Parting of the Ways, and went south. We headed west across the dry lands of the Sublette Cutoff, straight towards Cokesville and the Bear River.

We have seen fur traders, and soldiers, and even small wagon trains heading east, back where we are from.  They have their reasons, but today we met an eastbound wagon train which was all women and children.Their husbands and fathers had all died of a fever, and they were going back to their families in the east -- all of them widows. I burst into tears when I heard their story. God have mercy on them.

Albert Bierstadt - Oregon Trail - 1863

Yesterday we had Indians visit our wagon train camp -- again. This has happened often on our trip. They come for food, and to trade their ponies for guns. We don't give them guns, but some people have done so.They were from the Cayuse tribe, and were friendly, because they wanted to trade for our horses, which are larger and stronger than their ponies. Not wanting to let our horses go, we gave them a meal and tobacco to keep the peace with them. I shudder to see long black hair dangling from scalps tied to their lances.