January 29th, 2017 - A trip to the river

Photo taken January 29th, 2017 at approximately 7:30am.
Conditions in 1863 were nearly identical. Photo color is true to life.

My toes are still cold from yesterday morning's excursion to the Bear River. There was about two feet of snow on the ground and at 7:00am it was -4 degrees. This is near the edge of frostbite weather. If the wind blows it gets much more dangerous. Taking pictures at that time was fine for about four minutes, then my hands began to feel stiff and clumsy. Each time we stepped out of the car it was harder to warm back up. From 11:00 until noon we stood with the sun on our backs and our feet were still going numb in the 9 degree weather. Every time someone stood behind us for a moment we were instantly cold again despite our warm winter coats. Our noses hurt and we had to keep our hands in our pockets or the skin would start becoming stiff in just two minutes. I had to teach my son to stamp his feet to warm them a bit. A small survival lesson for a boy who sleeps in a warm bed each night.

Those fighting in 1863 described similar conditions and problems. Their fingers could no longer feel and they had to deliberately look at their hands to load their rifles. After getting wet crossing the river the soldiers' pants froze solid. None could feel their feet and some would lose toes to frostbite.

Indians who had made it to the river and under the ice to escape spoke of the unbelievable cold as they climbed out of the water downstream and tried to warm themselves. With ice floating on the river the water temperatures were near 32.5 degrees. Within 3 minutes manual dexterity begins to fail. At 15 minutes exhaustion begins. Between 15 and 30 minutes unconsciousness sets in. Climbing out of the water into the arctic air slashed those times. Some Indians had been shot on their way to the river or while swimming. One carried two small children with her despite her wounds. It is a testament to their understanding of survival techniques, determination, and a hard life in the Idaho weather that they lived to tell of their swim. It's a miracle the children survived at all.

Imagine then the callousness of the soldiers who left the women and children captives in their grief sitting on the riverbank while the soldiers burned their tipis to thaw out their hands and uniforms. The women would recount that they were not warmed until evening when an Indian man had built a large fire on the hill and called to them to come warm themselves. Throughout the day they had sat weeping on the banks of the river. The soldiers mockingly wrote about the women and children staring into nothingness unable to comprehend all that had happened.

As the soldiers bedded down for the night on the South side of the river, supply wagons were moved on the hill above. Indians and soldiers alike remembered the unearthly howls of the wagon wheels turning on their axles. There was no loud wailing of Indian women over the dead. They were fighting to live through the night. The squealing wheels were the only dirge sung for the Indian men, women, and children who's corpses lay frozen on the snows of the Bear River bottoms.