M. Mark Miller, Author

Tag: Yellowstone Park HIstory

  • A Tale: An Optimistic Prospector — 1863

    Walter Washington DeLacy

    After gold was discovered near Bannack, Montana, in 1862, prospectors scoured every gully and creek searching for the next bonanza. In 1863, Walter Washington DeLacy led a 40-man expedition that explored the Snake River to its source. The party didn’t find enough “color” for a paying proposition, but they did bring back a wealth of information about the Yellowstone Plateau. DeLacy included that information in his famous 1865 map of the Montana territory. DeLacy was a civil engineer and his account of the Snake River expedition is one of few prospector accounts by an educated man. At time when a man could make a fortune from a few gold pans of dirt, prospectors were ever hopeful of striking it rich. In the virtually lawless territories prospecting parties made their own rules to assure that everybody has a fair chance. Here’s DeLacy’s description of an effort to draft some “miner’s laws.”

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    I halted the men at the creek as they came up, and when all had arrived I suggested to them that we should go on to the next water, pick out a good camp, and remain some days and prospect the different streams, which were in sight. This was agreed to, and we went forward about three miles to the next creek, near the outlet of Lake Jackson and established ourselves where wood, water, and grass were abundant.

    After unpacking and staking the animals out, another meeting was called in order to decide upon our future action. It was decided to build a “corral,” to put the horses in at night that should be left in camp, and that four parties should be formed: one to remain in camp as a guard, and three others to prospect the streams in sight.

    The men were then detailed for the different expeditions, and it was suggested, that as there was a strong probability of finding good “diggings,” we should adopt some mining laws for them.

    We therefore organized ourselves into a “miners’ meeting,” and, after appointing a chairman, etc., one of the members moved, and another seconded the motion, that the following regulations should be adopted:

    1. That every person present should be regarded as a discovered in each and every gulch found by any party or member of a party.

    2. That each member, as discoverer, should be entitled to five claims of two hundred feet each along the gulch, viz., a discovery claim, and a pre-emption claim in the main gulch, a bar claim, a hill claim, and a patch claim. (I never knew exactly what a patch claim was, but I think that it meant all that you could grab, after you got the other four claims.)

    These liberal and disinterested regulations were voted in the affirmative with gratifying unanimity, and the chairman was just about to put the question to the meeting whether there was any more business before it, when a big, burly Scotchman named Brown, who had apparently been turning the subject over in his mind, jumped up, and inquired with great earnestness, “But, Mr. Chairman, what shall we do with the rest of it.”

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    — Adapted from “A Trip up the South Snake River in 1863.” Walter W. DeLacy, Contributions to the Historical Society of Montana, Vol. 2, 1896.

    — Photo, Yellowstone Digital Slide File

    — For more funny stories click on “Humor” under the “Categories” button on the left side of this page.

  • Views: Yellowstone Park Belongs in Montana

    After I urged my FaceBook Friends last week to buy my book as a Christmas gift, sales surged. In fact, Amazon.com ranked Adventures in Yellowstone Number One among books on Wyoming history for a while.

    Of course, I’m grateful for book buyers, and it’s always fun to be on top, but I think Wyoming history is the wrong category. Although most of Yellowstone Park’s land mass lies in Wyoming, most of its early history is in Montana. In fact, the Montana territorial legislature asked the U.S. Congress to attach the park to Montana twice, in 1872 and 1874. The territorial legislators offered two interrelated reasons for their request: the wonders of the Yellowstone Plateau were accessible only from Montana, and, Montana residents had explored the area and begun to develop it.

    As the accompanying relief map shows, extremely rugged mountains surround the Yellowstone Plateau. As the “Memorial” the territorial legislature drafted in 1872 put it:

    . . . this portion of Wyoming is only accessible from the side of Montana, contains the heads of streams whose courses lie wholly in Montana, while, through the enterprise of citizens of Montana, it has been thoroughly explored, and its innumerable and magnificent array of wonder in geysers, boiling springs, mud volcanoes, burning mountains, lakes, and waterfalls brought to the attention of the world. Your memorialists would, therefore, urge upon your honorable bodies that the said portion of Wyoming Territory be ceded to Montana . . . .

    The legislators had a point. While the trappers of the Mountain Man Era sometimes entered what is now Yellowstone Park over the rugged mountains to the east and south, by the time the Montana and Wyoming Territories were established in the 1860s, most explorers came from north and west. In 1863, Walter DeLacy led a group of prospectors from Bannack, Montana, up the Snake River into what is now Yellowstone Park. In 1869, David Folsom and his friends, Charles Cook and William Peterson, left Diamond City, Montana, and went up the Yellowstone River to the Yellowstone Plateau.

    A year later, an expedition led by General Henry Washburn, with an Army escort under Lt. Gustavus Doane, followed the same route as the Folsom-Cook-Peterson party. In 1871, U.S. Commissioner of Mines Rossiter Raymond led a party of men up the Madison River to see Yellowstone’s wonders.

    Also, in 1871, Montana entrepreneurs were racing to capture the tourist trade. Bozeman businessmen were building a road up the Yellowstone River through the canyon that would come to be named after toll taker, “Yankee Jim” George. At the same time, Virginia City businessmen were extending the road from Henry’s Lake to the Lower Geyser Basin. And, other adventurous Montana businessmen were building a hotel and bathhouses at Mammoth Hot Springs.

    And, what were Wyoming residents doing then to develop Yellowstone Park? Nothing!

    In 1874, the Montana territorial legislature renewed its request to the U.S. Congress that the part of Yellowstone Park that “now lies within the Territory of Wyoming be detached therefrom and attached to the territory of Montana.” Obviously, the Congress demurred. Even today, after more than a century of road building, nearly twice as many visitors enter Yellowstone Park from Montana entrances than from Wyoming entrances.

    I think Montana pioneers made a good case for making all of Yellowstone Park a part of Montana. And, it would make more sense for Amazon.com to categorize Adventures in Yellowstone with Montana books instead of Wyoming books. But I understand that geography trumps history.

    I’m just glad when my book sells—no matter what category it’s in. And remember, Adventures in Yellowstone makes a great gift for Valentines Day.

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    — Relief map from the Yellowstone Digital Slide File.

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  • A Tale: An October Snow Storm at Yellowstone Canyon — 1880

    Thomas Moran, The Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone


    Carrie Strahorn was an adventurous woman who insisted on traveling with her husband  Robert  (she called him “Pard”) as he traveled the country searching for destinations for the Union Pacific Railroad. Carrie wrote newspaper columns about her adventures and eventually collected them in a book,     Fifteen Thousand Miles by Stage.

    Despite warnings about winter storms, the Strahorns decided to visit Yellowstone Park in October 1880. Their guide was George Marshall, who operated a stage line between Virginia City, Montana, and a hotel he built at the Lower Geyser Basin. Also, Park Superintendent Philetus Norris accompanied the Strahorns during  part of their trip.

    The weather was fine when the Strahorns began, but as they returned to Marshall’s hotel after visited the Mammoth Hot Springs, a snow storm caught them. Here’s Carrie’s story about that.

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    The rain changed to snow, and through the storm we saw the disconsolate face of Mr. Marshall, as he stood near the smoldering campfire muttering to himself as if he had become demented. Upon inquiring the cause of his trouble, he said as soon as he saw the snow he went to look for the horses—and they were gone.

    “Gone!” we all exclaimed in unison and despair. The horses were gone and we were at the end of our rations with a big storm upon us. The many warnings not to go into the park so late went buzzing through our minds like bumblebees. The snow was several inches deep and falling faster every minute.

    As soon as daylight came the men started in search of the horses. I was left all alone in the camp for several hours waiting with my rifle in hand, until after a hard and hurried chase the horses were overtaken and brought back. We knew that we should hurry home as quickly as possible—but to be within five miles and not to see the falls was asking too much. With the return of the horses we resolved at once to go on.

    Superintendent Norris thought it was not best for me to go to the falls. The trip must be a hasty one, and the start home not to be delayed longer than possible for fear of continued storm. The snow ceased falling soon after daylight, but the sun did not appear and there was every indication of more snow. Pard was reluctant to leave me, and knew what disappointment lurked in my detention, but he was overruled. With Mr. Norris he started off leaving me with Mr. Marshall—who was to have everything ready for the return to Fire Hole Basin on their return.

    The more I meditated the more I felt that I could not give up seeing the canyon and falls. To be balked by a paltry five or ten miles was more than I could stand. I called to Mr. Marshall to saddle my horse at once for I was going to the falls.

    He laughingly said “all right,” but he went right on with his work and made no move toward the horse. I had to repeat the request the third time most emphatically and added that I would start out on foot if he did not get my horse without more delay.

    He said I could not follow them for I would not know the way, but I reminded him of the freshly fallen snow, and that I could easily follow the trail. He was vexed with my persistence as I was with his resistance, and he finally not only saddled my horse but his own, and rather sulkily remarked that if the bears carried off the whole outfit I would be to blame. When well on our way I persistently urged him to return to the camp and he finally did turn back, but waited watched me until I turned out of sight.

    Alone in the wild woods full of dangerous animals my blood began to cool, and I wondered what I should do if I met a big grizzly who would not give up the trail. The silence of that great forest was appalling and the newly fallen snow made cushions for the horse’s feet as I sped noiselessly on. It was a gruesome hour, and to cheer myself I began to sing, and the echoing voice coming back from the treetops was mighty good company.

    The five miles seemed to stretch out interminably. When about a mile from the falls other voices fell on my ear, and I drew rein to locate the sound, then gave a glad bound forward for it was Pard on his way back. Mr. Norris said anyone might think that Pard and I had been separated for a month, so glad were we to see each other.

    Pard could not restrain his joy that I had followed, and sending the superintendent on to the camp he at once wheeled about and went with me to the falls and canyon that I came so near missing. Up and down o’er hills and vales we dashed as fast as our horses would carry us until the upper falls were reached where we dismounted and went up to the edge of the canyon to get a better view.

    These falls are visible from many points along the canyon, and. the trail runs close to them and also by the river for several miles, the tourist many glimpses of grandeur. Above the upper falls the river is a series of sparkling cascades, when suddenly the stream narrows to thirty yards, and the booming cataract rushes over the steep ledge a hundred and twenty feet and rebounds in fleecy foam of great iridescence. The storm increased and the heavens grew darker every hour, but we pushed on.

    Moran has been chided for his high coloring of this canyon, but one glimpse of its rare, rich hues would convince the most skeptical that exaggeration is impossible. We longed to stay for days and weeks and hear this great anthem of nature and study its classical and noble accompaniment, but there was a stern decree that we must return, and that without delay.

    There was no hope for sightseeing as we kept on our way back to the Lower Geyser Basin. Without giving our horses or ourselves over half an hour to rest at noon, we rode on and on, up hill and down, through woods and plains, fording the Fire Hole River again and again, until at last the lights of Marshall camp were in sight. The storm had continued all day, turning again from snow to rain in the valley. How tired I was when we rode up to the door. Our forty-mile ride was ended at seven o’clock, but it took three men to get me off my horse.

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    — Adapted from Carrie Adell Strahorn, Fifteen Thousand Miles by Stage, 1911.

    — Image, Yellowstone Digital Slide File.

    — You might also enjoy “Big Boots to Fill” by Carrie Strahorn.

    — Read more of Carrie’s story in my book,  Adventures in Yellowstone.

  • A Tale: The First Written Description of Yellowstone Geysers — Daniel T. Potts, 1827


    By the early 1800’s trappers were scouring the Rocky Mountains  for beaver. Evidence of  their travel is sketchy, but we know that trapper brigades reached the Yellowstone Plateau by 1826.

    In 1947, two elderly ladies offered to sell the National Park Service three letters that were then 120 years old. A fur trapper named Daniel T. Potts had sent one of them to his brother in 1827. It is thought to be the first written description of the thermal features of the Upper Yellowstone by someone who actually saw them. Here’s the famous “Letter from Sweet Lake.”

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    Sweet Lake
    July 8th 1827

    Respected Brother,

    Shortly after writing to you last year I took my departure for the Blackfoot Country. We took a northerly direction about fifty miles where we cross Snake River or the South fork of Columbia—which heads on the top of the great chain of Rocky Mountains that separate the water of the Atlantic from that of the Pacific. Near this place Yellowstone South fork of Missouri and the Henrys fork head at an angular point. The head of the Yellowstone has a large fresh water lake on the very top of the mountain—which is about one hundred by forty miles in diameter and as clear as crystal.

    On the south borders of this lake is a number of hot and boiling springs—some of water and others of most beautiful fine clay. The springs throw particles to the immense height of from twenty to thirty feet in height. The clay is white and of a pink. The water appears fathomless; it appears to be entirely hollow underneath.

    There is also a number of places where the pure sulphur is sent forth in abundance. One of our men visited one of those whilst taking his recreation. There at an instant the earth began a tremendous trembling. With difficulty he made his escape when an explosion took place resembling that of thunder. During our stay in that quarter, I heard it every day.

    From this place by a circuitous rout to the northwest, we returned. Two others and myself pushed on in the advance for the purpose of accumulating a few more Beaver. In the act of passing through a narrow confine in the Mountain, we where met plumb in face by a large party of Blackfeet Indians. Not knowing our number, they fled into the mountain in confusion—and we to a small grove of willows. Here we made every preparation for battle. After finding our enemy as much alarmed as ourselves we mounted our Horses which where heavily loaded we took the back retreat.

    The Indian raised a tremendous yell and showered down from the mountaintop. They had almost cut off our retreat when put whip to our horses. They pursued us in close quarters until we reached the plains where we left them behind.

    Tomorrow I depart for the west. We are all in good health and hope that this letter will find you in the same situation. I wish you to remember my best respects to all enquiring friends particularly your wife.

    Remain yours most affectionately.

    Daniel T. Potts

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    — Original manuscript, Yellowstone National Park Research Library.

    — Sketch by E.S. Paxson, Montana Historical Society

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  • A Tale: Wapiti Are The Stupidest Brutes — 1874

    Most early Yellowstone tourists came from the adjacent territories because getting to the park was too expensive for other people. But a few wealthy adventurers from distant places found the time and money to make the long trip. Hunting, which was perfectly legal until the Army took over administration of Yellowstone Park in 1886, was a prime attraction.

    One such traveler was Windham Thomas Wyndam-Quin, the fourth Earl of Dunraven. A fabulously wealthy Irish nobleman, Lord Dunraven hired several men to accompany him. One of them was Fredrick Bottler, a rancher who settled in the Paradise Valley on the Yellowstone River in 1868. Bottler was familiar with Yellowstone’s wonders and served as an outfitter, guide and hunter for several early expeditions.

    Dunraven, who had been a war correspondent for British newspapers, was an astute observer with a droll wit. In addition to his stories about watching geysers and hunting big game, he offers humorous advice on how to pack a mule, and tells about roasting fresh elk meat over a campfire.

    He wrote several books about his travel adventures. Here’s his description of Elk Hunting from The Great Divide, one of his most popular.

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    We wound our way towards the head of the valley, half asleep, for the day was very hot. Before long I jerked my horse on to his haunches and slid quietly off. The others followed my example without a word, for they too had caught a glimpse of the dark brown forms of some wapiti feeding quietly in the wood. Bottler, in his enthusiasm, seized me violently by the arm and hurried into the timber, ejaculating at every glimpse of the forms moving through the trees.

    “There they go! There they go! Shoot! Now then! There’s a chance.” At the time he was dragging me along, and I could no more shoot than fly. At last I shook myself clear of him, and, getting a fair easy shot at a large fat doe, fired and killed her.

    Wapiti are the stupidest brutes in creation; and, instead of making off at once, the others all bunched up and stared about them, so that we got two more before they made up their minds to clear out. There was a fine stag in the herd, but, as is usually the case, he managed to get himself well among the hinds out of harm’s way, and none of us could get a chance at him.

    Bottler and I followed his tracks for an hour, but could not come up with him; and, finding that he had taken clear up the mountain, we returned to the scene of action. There we found the rest of the party busily engaged in cutting up the huge deer. One of them was a hind, in first-rate condition and as fat as butter. We were very glad of fresh meat, and, as the ground was very suitable, determined to camp right there, and send some of the flesh down to the main camp in the morning. We pitched our Lilliputian tents at the foot of one of a hundred huge hemlocks, set a fire, and proceeded to make ourselves comfortable for the night.

    We were all smoking round the fire—a most attentive audience, watching with much interest the culinary feats which Bottler was performing—when we were startled by a most unearthly sound.

    Bottler knew it well, but none of us strangers had ever heard a wapiti stag roaring before, and it is no wonder we were astonished at the noise. The wapiti bellows forth one great roar, commencing with a hollow, harsh, unnatural sound, and ending in a shrill screech like the whistle of a locomotive.

    In about ten minutes this fellow called again, a good deal nearer, and the third time he was evidently close to camp, so we started out. Advancing cautiously, we presently, through a bush, distinguished in the gloom the I saw body and antlered head of a real monarch of the forest as he stalked out into an open glade and stared with astonishment at our fire.

    He looked perfectly magnificent. He was a splendid beast, and his huge bulk, looming large in the uncertain twilight, appeared gigantic. He stood without betraying the slightest sign of fear or hesitation; but, as if searching with proud disdain for the intruder that had dared to invade his solitude, he slowly swept round the branching spread of his antlers, his neck extended and his head a little thrown back, and snuffed the air.

    I could not see the fore sight of the little muzzle-loader, but luck attended the aim, for the bullet struck high up the shoulder; and, shot through the spine, the largest wapiti stag that I had ever killed fell stone-dead in his tracks.

    It was early in the season, and his hide was in first rate condition, a rich glossy brown on the sides and jet black along the back and on the legs; so we turned to, cut off his head and skinned him; and, by the time we had done that and had packed the head and hide into camp, it was pitch dark, when we were ready for supper and blankets.

    ∞§∞

    —From Dunraven, The Great Divide, 1875.

    —William Henry Jackson Photo, Yellowstone Digital Slide File.

    — To see more stories by this author, click on “Dunraven” under the “Categories” button to the left.

  • A Tale: A Cloud-Burst of the Rarest Jewels

     

    Most Yellowstone tourist who kept journals struggled to describe geysers. Some relied on quantitative descriptions of such things as how high water was hurled snd how much time separated eruptions. Other’s chose adjectives—”stupendous,” “astounding”—and left their readers to imagine what they meant.  And many simply used phrases like “words cannot describe ….”

    John L. Stoddard was a professional writer who revealed his emotions and used figures of speech to describe what he saw. Stoddard was a world traveler who turned his experiences into popular lectures that he delivered across American. He published them is a series of books entitled Stoddard’s Lectures. Here’s his description of Fountain Geyser.

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    “Show me a geyser!” I at last exclaimed impatiently, “I want to see a genuine geyser.” Accordingly our guide conducted us to what he announced as “The Fountain.” I look around me with surprise. I saw no fountain, but merely a pool of boiling water, from which the light breeze bore away a thin transparent cloud of steam. It is true, around this was a pavement as delicately fashioned as any piece of coral ever taken from the sea. Nevertheless, while I admired that, I could not understand why this comparatively tranquil pool was called a geyser, and frankly said I was disappointed. But even as I spoke, I saw to my astonishment the boiling water in this reservoir sink and disappear from view.

    “Where has it gone?” I eagerly inquired.

    “Stand back!” Shouted the guide, “she’s coming.”

    I ran back a few steps, then turned a caught my breath; for at that very instant, up from the pool which I had just beheld so beautiful and tranquil, there rose on great outburst of sublimity, such a stupendous mass of water as I had never imagined possible in vertical form. I knew that it was boiling and that a deluge of those scalding drops would probably mean death, but I was powerless to move. Amazement and delight enchained me spellbound. Talk of a fountain! This was a cloud-burst of the rarest jewels which, till that moment had been held in solution in a subterranean cavern, but which had suddenly crystallized into a million radiant forms on thus emerging into light and air. The sun was shining though the glittering mass; and myriads of diamonds, moonstones, pearls, and opals mingled in splendid rivalry two hundred feet about our head.

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    — From Stoddard’s Lectures, Volume 10, 1905.

    — F. J. Haynes Postcard, Yellowstone Digital Slide File.

  • News and Views: A Truly Great Conversation in Helena

     

    I had a really good time with seven scintillating dinner companions at Great Conversation in Helena on Wednesday.  I was impressed with the Helena Education Foundation, who sponsored the event and recognized ten great teachers from Helena schools.  What a wonderful show of community support for schools, teachers and — most important — students.

    I  truly enjoyed my dinner companions.  They laughed when I told them about Eleanor Corthell who announced to her husband that he should expect a bill  because she had bought a team and wagon and was taking their seven children to Yellowstone Park for the summer in 1904.  My companions were full of questions about Truman Everts and how he survived thirthy seven days alone in Yellowstone in 1870.  And, they were eager to share their own experiences from the time when bears would stall traffic to beg from cars.

    I was an overnight houseguest of Denny DeRozier and his wife, Nikki.  Denny is a friend from my childhood in Silver Star.  After we had a drink at Helena’s Silver Star Steak House, we spent a few minutes reminiscing in front of a historic photo of the Silver Star School.

    Great Fun!

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    — Photo from the Yellowstone Digital Slide File

  • A Tale: Naming Tower Fall— Langford, 1870

    In 1870 the famous Washburn Expedition explored the remote area that became Yellowstone National Park. While the explorers always had be be alert for the dangers of Indians, wild animals, and strange geothermal features, they also found ways to have fun. Here’s Nathaniel P. Langford’s description of  one of the pranks they played on each other.

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    At the outset of our journey we had agreed that we would not give to any object of interest that we might discover the name of any of our party nor of our friends. This rule was to be religiously observed.

    While in camp on Sunday, August 28th, on the bank of this creek, it was suggested that we select a name for the creek and fail. Walter Trumbull suggested “Minaret Creek” and “Minaret Fall.” Mr. Hauser suggested “Tower Creek” and “Tower Fall.” After some discussion a vote was taken, and by a small majority, the name “Minaret” was decided upon.

    During the following evening Mr. Hauser stated with great seriousness that we had violated the agreement made relative to naming objects for our friends. He said that the well known Southern family—the Rhetts—lived in St. Louis, and that they had a most charming and accomplished daughter named “Minnie.” He said that this daughter was a sweetheart of Trumbull, who had proposed the name her name, “Minnie Rhett” — and that we had unwittingly given to the fall and creek the name of this sweetheart of Mr. Trumbull.

    Mr. Trumbull indignantly denied the truth of Hauser’s statement, and Hauser as determinedly insisted that it was the truth. The vote was therefore reconsidered, and by a substantial majority it was decided to substitute the name “Tower” for “Minaret.” Later, and when it was too late to recall or reverse the action of our party, it was surmised that Hauser himself had a sweetheart in St. Louis — a Miss Tower.

    ∞§∞

    —Excerpt from N. P. Langford, The Discovery of Yellowstone Park.

    —William Henry Jackson Photo, Yellowstone Digital Archive.

    — You can read a condensed version of Langford’s The Discovery of Yellowstone Park in my book, Adventures in Yellowstone.

    — To see more stories by this author, click on “Langford” under the “Categories” button to the left.

    — For more stories about the Washburn Expedition, click on “Washburn” under the “Categories” button to the left.

  • A Tale: “Get Out and Throw Up Your Hands”

    Before completion of the Nothern Pacific’s transcontinental railroad in 1883, many early Yellowstone visitors often came long distances by stagecoach—and that wasn’t always safe. In 1872 a young Englishman named Sidford Hamp, who had spent the summer working on the second Hayden expedition documenting Yellowstone Park, told about a stagecoach robbery in a letter to his mother.

    ∞§∞

    About 8 o’clock that evening on October 16, I was asleep when suddenly the coach stopped, which woke me up. I was going to look out (for the blinds were down) when I heard some one outside say, “Put in your head there! Put in your head!”

    In a little while the voice said again, “get out one at a time and throw up your hands.” I knew in an instant that the coach was stopped by highwaymen. One of the passengers got out—and then I did—and all the others followed and stood in a row with their hands over their heads.

    There were seven of us besides one on the box with the driver and a lady and child inside. When we were outside, I had time to look about and the first thing I saw was a man with a double barreled shotgun—full cocked pointed at the driver.  Another man behind the coach had two six barreled pistols in his hand.

    I took the end nearest the shotgun man, so that I could see what he was up to.  When we were all out the man with the pistols told the coachman to throw out the treasure boxes, which he did. He then took a small hatchet he had with him and split them open but there was nothing in them.

    Then he came to us and searched us. He began with me, he first took out my watch, but he only looked at it and put it back, and said he didn’t want it. Then be felt in my other pockets and found a leather case in which I had $8 and all my letters. I told him there was only $8 in it and he said if he thought so he would give it back.  I asked him to look inside but he wouldn’t. He asked me what I had been doing as I only had $8 so I told him I was traveling with another fellow. I had 2 pound 5 shilling notes in watch pocket, which he didn’t find.

    Then he searched the others and got from the first, $300, the second $2400, third $4000, fourth $150, fifth $0. From the man on the box they got $150. The man who lost none had handed his purse to the lady as he got out—and as she wasn’t searched, he saved it.

    They then took the candle out of the coach lamp and searched inside the coach. The man on the box had a bottle of whiskey, which the robbers took from him and handed round for the passengers to drink. I took some just for the joke of it and because I was cold with standing out with my hands up. Fancy such a thing as a highway robbers in England.

    ∞§∞

    — From Sidford Hamp’s Diary, published in Annals of Wyoming, 1942. .

    — Photo from the Yellowstone Digital Slide File.

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  • A Tale: Cooking Fish on the Hook in a Hot Spring

    Many Yellowstone Park tourists describe places where an angler can catch a fish and cook it in a nearby hot spring without taking it off the hook, but few report actually doing it. Henry J. Winser described performing the feat in his 1883 guide for tourists.

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    It has often been said that it possible to catch trout in the Yellowstone Lake and cook them in a boiling spring close behind the angler—without taking them off the hook. The assertion seems incredible and it is generally doubted. This extraordinary feat may certainly be accomplished, not only at the Yellowstone Lake, but also on the Gardiner River below the Mammoth Hot Springs. The writer performed it at the latter place, and in the presence of nine witnesses.

    Selecting a likely pool of the ice-cold stream with a boiling spring fifteen feet distant from the bank, he stood upon a projecting rock and made a cast. His flies soon tempted a trout to his doom. The fish was small enough to be lifted out of the water without the aid of a landing net, and it was quite easy to drop him into the bubbling hot spring behind. His life must have been extinguished instantly.

    This procedure was repeated several times, and each of the spectators who had purposely assembled to test the truth of the strange assertion, partook of the fish thus caught and boiled. It required from three to five minutes to thoroughly cook the victims of the experiment, and it was the general verdict that they only needed a little salt to make them quite palatable.

    This is a “fish story,” without doubt, but a perfectly true one. A feat so extraordinary could nowhere else be practiced.

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    — For more stories about fishing in Yellowstone Park, click on “fishing” under the “Categories” button on the right.

    — Excerpt from Henry J. Winser,  The Yellowstone National Park: A Manual for tourists. New York: G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 1883. (Pages 39-40).

    —Frank J. Haynes Postcard, Yellowstone Slide File.