History of a trip taken by wagon to Leadore in the year 1899 by David R. Evans Family. Written by W.E. Evans in 1964.
The reason for this trip was that sister Maud had passed away the fall before, which had broken up Mother and Dad quite badly. Dad, who still had his freight outfit, decided he would take Mother to visit her half brother, Ed Phillips at Pocatello and her two sisters, Aunt Harriet at Arco and Aunt Eliza at Lemhi Junction (now Leadore, Idaho). This vacation was also dad’s last freight trip.
He loaded the trail wagon with flour from the Malad Roller Mill. W.E. Jones (Bill Miller) was the owner and operator. About May 1, 1899 we left Malad for Pocatello with two wagons and four heads of horses. The front wagon was our sleeper and diner. The trail wagon was the freight department.
Our first day got us as far as Arimo. We got feed for the horses from a man named John Evans, who also had a general store. The next day we got as far as where Inkom is now. At McCammon I remember we had trouble with the man who owned the bridge that crossed the Portneuf River. He wanted to charge a toll for the wagon carrying the flour. I don’t remember whether we had to pay or not. We camped that night on the site where Inkom is now. The next day we got to Pocatello where we stayed a few days with Uncle Ed. While there one afternoon, Dad and Uncle Ed went to town. I guess they partook of a little too much “red eye”, for on the way home that night it rained real hard and in crossing the Portneuf River to get back home, dad missed the bridge and stepped into the river. I don’t know if he had too much before or not but he was certainly sober enough when he got home.
While in Pocatello dad sold part of the flour and after about a week at Pocatello we started for Arco. We camped at Fort Hall the first night. That was one of the worst days we had on the trip. The sand was hub deep on the wagon. I think at that time Fred Peck was operating the Indian store there, which was government owned.
The next day we got as far as Blackfoot where we stayed a day or two so dad could sell some more flour. We crossed the Snake River at Blackfoot and had to fill the water barrels which were tied on each side of the wagon. They were 50 gallon barrels and the water was to be used to water the horses when we stopped overnight in the desert. I guess we got about 20 miles West of Blackfoot, 20 to 25 miles were good distances to cover. The next night we camped at the Big Butte where there was some water. I don’t know whether it was a well or spring. I do remember there was a stage station there.
The next day we started for Arco. When we got about to where the Atomic Plant is now, there was a herd of antelope that Dad said had about one thousand in it. Brother Dave had a 22 rifle and wanted to see if he could hit one of them. So Dad got on the spring seat of the wagon and started to twirl a towel. All of the antelope stopped to see what it was. Dave and I sneaked as close as we could to them. Dave shot twice but not an antelope dropped, but on our way back to the wagon Dave shot a young Jack Rabbit so we had fresh meat for dinner. We got to Aunt Harriet’s in Arco that night where we stayed for a week or so. All there was at Arco at that time was a store, Post Office, feed stable and a stage station. One thing I remember very well was a man with 3 wagons loaded with some kind of ore and 13 heads of mules hitched together, 6 teams and one mule on lead. The thing I remember most was that he had only one line to drive with and a bell on the lead mule, and when he called for them to start, the lead mules would shake their heads and the bell would ring, all the mules would get in step with the lead mule.
As I write this, March 10, 1964, I am listening to Mickey Thompson tell how he felt when he drove his car 400.7 (four hundred and 7/10 miles per hour). At that rate it would take him about 45 minutes to go as far as it took us ten days to go.
Back to Arco and our visit. My cousin Mary Anderson and I spent a good deal of time fishing. We used a white cord line and a bent pin for a hook and grasshoppers for bait. The only way we could catch the fish was when they would swallow the pin all the way down. I remember we were fishing in a large hole about 100 feet above where the Big Lost River began to sink and within a ½ mile it went from a river to a small stream. One night a stage coach going from Arco to Hailey had a wreck. The wheel came off the coach and the horses ran away and wrecked the coach quite badly. The runaway happened between Arco and what is now the Craters of the Moon. They all walked back to Aunt Harriet’s place and stayed all night. It was a man, his wife and three other men. A few days later we all went to see what is now the Craters of the Moon. Then it was called the Old Volcano Grounds. On the way there we saw where the stage coach had wrecked.
After a week or 10 days at Aunt Harriet’s we were ready to start for Aunt Eliza’s at Lemhi Junction–now Leadore. We left the train wagon at Arco, as we had gotten rid of most of the flour. To get to Lemhi Junction we went East around the Point of the Mountain into the Little Lost River Valley. The first night we stopped at a ranch a little South of what is now Howe. I remember Dad asked the man if he could put the horses in his field. He said it was O.K. if he wanted to take a chance. Dad asked him what he meant and he said, “the rabbits might eat them up.” He said they have eaten everything else around here. We stayed there that night and I want to say that he wasn’t kidding any! Dave and I got Dad’s whip and we killed a good many rabbits with the horse whip. Howe is about where the Little Lost River sinks. From Howe we went north and east to get on Birch Creek Road. We camped the next night just above where Birch Creek sinks. The next day while we were traveling up Birch Creek Dad was telling us we would camp that night where the Indians had killed several freighters and had burned all of the wagons and stolen all of the freighters’ horses. I think he said the Indians were a part of Chief Joseph’s tribe. Anyway when we got to where the Massacre took place there was a pile of ashes in a mound in the shape of a grave. Dad said he thought that one person got a way, he was a Chinaman. He said he had heard that he had hid in Birch Creek under a bunch of willows and got away at night. I haven’t read in any Idaho History that this is true, however, that is the story that Dad told. While we were making camp at the mainspring of Birch Creek a bunch of Indians came along and also made camp about 100 yards away from us. I thought this was the end for us! Little did I sleep that night. I wanted to crawl in bed with mother and dad.We were sleeping in the same wagon box with them so that helped a lot. There were three or four bucks and the rest were squaws. The next morning one of the bucks came to our camp to beg for some flour, which we gave to them. One buck could speak a little English and told us they were from Fort Hall and were going to the Lemhi River to get salmon to smoke and dry for winter. That was OK with me–just so they left. If they had wanted smaller fish, they could have loaded a wagon box out of the big spring at the head of Birch Creek. We couldn’t get a bucket of water out of the spring without having two or three fish in it.
The next day we went by way of the old Nocolia Bucket Tranway, where they sent ore down the mountain to the bins, from where it was hauled to a smelter. I don’t remember where the smelter was. I remember there were charcoal pits all along the way that were still filled with charcoal. I think dad said they used the charcoal to heat what metal they could get out of the rock so they would not have to haul so much rock to the smelter. The mine was not operating at the time. I have been by way of Birch Creek several times since, but the road does not go by way of the old mine now. After we left the old mine we went over the Willow Creek Divide about where the ghost town of Gilmore now stands, there was no town there at that time. We camped along Willow Creek one night. The next night we were at Aunt Eliza’s. She and her husband Hank Vreeland had a ranch about three miles East of the Junction. Lemhi Junction got its name from the old freighters, because it was where the freight and stage roads met from Idaho and Montana. Uncle Hank and Aunt Eliza had a dairy farm. They made butter and cheese to sell to the mines near Salmon City and the mines in Montant. For power to run the churn they had a water wheel which turned the churn. They had a ditch from Holly Creek which is the main stream of the headwaters of the Lemhi River, to carry water to the water wheel. What I am going to write about now sounds like a fish story. When they were going to churn butter they would turn Holly Creek out over the water wheel and when the salmon were running they could come from the Salmon River up the Lemhi River then up Holly creek and when they got to the ditch where Uncle Hank had the water wheel they would follow the water as far as the water wheel, there they would stop and so many would get in the stream that the water would flood over the banks and not enough water would go over the water wheel to keep it going. So Uncle Hank would get in the creek with a pitch fork and pitch them out so enough water would go over the water wheel and keep it going. I guess that is why I took up the creamery business, hoping that fishing would be that good. Although I never saw a salmon in a can of milk while at the Malad Valley Creamery, I did find a minnow in a can of milk one time. I don’t know whether the fish got in the can from someone watering down the milk or from washing the milk can in the creek. At any rate both of these fish stories are true.
We stayed at Aunt Eliza’s for about a month, then started the trek back home over the same route we went. We stayed at Aunt Harriets and Uncle Pete’s for a week or so, then hitched on the train wagon and came back to Pocatello and stayed at Uncle Ed’s and Aunt Lizzie’s a few days and then home, so Dave and I could start school.
Just to compare time and distance and mode of travel I want to make this comparison. Twenty three years later in a Model T Ford car, Leah and I, Lador, Billie and Keith started for Leadore, leaving home at 6 a.m., arrived at Leadore twelve hours later, now in 1964, with the cars we have and the good roads it is about a four hour trip.
(Two headshot pictures. The one on the left hand side is Ann Jones Evans.Caption says: Born: Sept. 10. 1841. Died Dec. 8, 1896. The photo on the right hand side is William Thomas Evans. Caption says: Born May 18, 1839. Died July 14, 1902.)