the Sierra Nevada Mountains, as if designed for a level road into the Sacramento Valley.
We were much pleased at the prospect, and followed this splendid road rapidly about eight miles, when, to our great mortification, we came to the termination of this lovely valley in front of a tall, steep mountain, which could not be ascended except by some creature that had either wings or claws. Upon examination, we found that old Peter Lassen and his party had marched west along this narrow valley to its abrupt termination, and then had turned about and marched back to near the point where they entered it, thus wasting some ten or fifteen miles of travel. The two portions of the road going into and coming out of this pretty valley were not more than half a mile apart; but this fact was unknown to us until after we had brought up against that impassable mountain.
This was a perplexing and distressing situation. Our own pilot did not like this route, as it was not going in the right direction. How to get out of this line of travel, and get again upon the river, was the question. We spent the greater part of one day in exploring a new route, but found it impracticable. In our explorations, we found a lava bed some two miles wide. It was clear to us that old Peter Lassen was lost, except as to courses, and was wholly unacquainted with the particular route he was going. Our own pilot knew as little as Lassen, if not less. Our wagons, we knew, would soon overtake us; and we determined to follow Lassen's road ten or fifteen miles farther to see if it turned west. Several of us started on foot, and found that the road, after leaving the valley, went south about ten miles, and then turned due west, running through open pine timber and over good ground. We returned to the camp in the night, and decided that we would follow Lassen's road at all hazards. We awaited the arrival of our wagons, and then set forward. We
