In route, we passed through the now famous Wenatchee Valley. At this time, there was only one store in the valley put in by a Mr. McPherson from Ellensburg. The Wenatchee Post Office was in the farm home of one Sam Miller, a pioneer of the valley. About two miles farther on we came to the Wenatchee River, which we had to ford. Having done so we left behind us our wagon road and all signs of civilization. Ahead lay 75 miles of (rougher than we knew) Indian trails. Soon our trial led along a ledge not wide enough to be inviting with the Columbia River 100 feet below us and perpendicular stone above us. Next, we came to the Entiat where we found some signs of life in the form of a few Indians around a small log hut.

About five miles farther we came to the famous Kokshut (Broken-off) mountain. Here the Indians claimed some 20 years before the whole end of the mountain had broken off, slipped into the river, and really dammed the river up for two or three days until the river washed around it. Here we found a quite dangerous trail to pass over. Large, broken rocks had to be climbed over where there was danger of our horses getting their feet in the openings and cracks between the rocks. Sometimes we would walk and lead our horses to give them a better chance to pick their way across the bad places.

At Knapps we found the first white man we had seen since we left Wenatchee. His name was Charles Na Varre, whom some of us had slightly known at Ellensburg. He had located a claim at the foot of the hill and with his wife was holding it down. I've often wondered why the hill was not named for him, as he was the first to hold the place there. At Chelan River we again had to ford the stream and all that was there was an unoccupied small log cabin on the south bank of the river about 100 yards below the outlet to the lake. We thought Lake Chelan quite beautiful but the country around about did not appeal to us as a farming country, so we passed on.

Upon reaching the Methow we again crossed the river by fording and then soon left the Columbia River for the Methow Valley over trails subsequently known as the Bald Knob trails. At the end of six days journey, we arrived at the camp of a friend who had preceded us a month or so. At that time, there was probably less than a dozen men scattered over the valley to remind us we were now in wild country. Just the day before we arrived at our friend's two white men and an Indian got into a little altercation and one of the white men, "Chiekamum" Stone by name shot the Indian through the shoulder. Fortunately, it was a superficial wound, the Indian women doctored it up, it soon got well, and nothing further came of it.

After looking over the valley two or three days five of the seven of us selected our claims as follows, P.L. Filer selected a claim east of the Mason Thurlow place, Harrison Houser the old Henry Plummer place, Ed Huss the Herstine or J.C. Garrett place, Will German the Ras Garrett palce, and I the present Dick Miller place. After doing, some work on our claims we returned to our former homes…some to get married and others to try. We also made preparations to return to our newly acquired claims.

Fulton was born in Boise, Idaho in 1865 and lived in the Ellensburg area before exploring and settling in the Methow Valley in the Bear Creek area in 1888. He wrote this history in 1940 at the age of 75.