From Cook’s Ferry the road continues to follow the eastern bank of the Thompson to its junction with the Fraser at Lytton--twenty-three miles; it is then continued along the same side of the Fraser for thirty-eight miles, or within thirteen miles of Yale, where it crosses the river by a beautiful suspension bridge. The road from Cook’s Ferry to Yale, especially the part below Lytton, is probably the most wonderful in the world. Cut out of the mountain-side of the gorge, it follows the hills as they recede in “gulches,” or advance in bold, upright bluffs, in constant windings, like an eternal letter S. The curves of ascent and descent are as sinuous as the lateral; the road at one time running down, by a series of rapid turns, to the very bottom of the valley, and then rising as quickly to pass the face of some protruding bluff, apparently a complete barrier to all advance, but past which it creeps, looking from below like a mere line scratched on the round front, 500 or 600 feet above the river. At these points the road is partly blasted out of the solid granite rock, and the width increased by beams of rough pine, which project over the precipice; but it is yet too narrow for vehicles to pass each other, except at certain points. There is, of course, no protecting wall; the road overhangs the precipice, and nothing is to be seen supporting the platform on which you stand--a terrible place to drive along, as we afterwards found. The road has been made, in this skilful and laborious manner, from where it first strikes the Thompson to Yale, a distance of nearly 100 miles. The trail formerly ran up many hundred feet higher, the barrier bluffs being passed by platforms slung by the Indians from the top of the cliff by cords of bark and deer-skin. These consisted of a single long pole, supported by a cross-pole at each end, the points of which rested against the face of the precipice. There was nothing to lay hold of, and a slip or hasty step, as the passenger walked along the rail embracing the face of the rock, would cause the pole to swing away, and hurl the incautious climber into the abyss below. The Bishop of Columbia, in his Journal, gives a very graphic description of his journey along the old trail, in which he compares his position to a fly upon the face of a perpendicular wall, in this case between 2,000 and 3,000 feet high. Many a miner lost his life at Jackass Mountain and Nicaragua Slide--places of this kind. There was at this time no other way to the mines except a mule trail, little less difficult, passing high over the mountain tops, and only available for a short time in summer, on account of the snow. Supplies were carried to the mines on the backs of the miners themselves, or packed on Indians, who carried from 100 to 150 pounds over this perilous path.