A Canyon Voyage Part 6

There was a heavy rapid beside us as we ate, and Steward named it Chandler Falls. It had a descent of about twelve feet in twenty rods. On the opposite side of the river a clear little creek came in, and this was named Chandler Creek, Chandler being the maiden name of Steward's wife. Beaman and Clem selected a position with their photographic outfit and made some photographs of us as we were working the boats through. A mile below we halted on the right for Beaman to get more views. None of his photographs of the rapids came out well as the plates were too slow.

Up a gulch on the right we could see a remarkable topographic feature, nothing less than a gigantic aperture, or natural arch, in the cliff. It had a span of at least 300 feet with a height of about half as much. It was 1500 or 1800 feet above the river. Hundreds of cedar trees grew around the arch on the ledges of the huge wall through which it was cut by the action of the elements.

The cliffs everywhere were now becoming more broken, and there was an entrance somewhere from the back country, or it may have been up the canyon, for we discovered remains of tipis and camps with metates or grinding stones, the first evidences of human beings we had seen since the "Moki" wall. This and the breaking of the cliffs caused us to believe that we were nearing the end of the canyon. Prof. with Jones and Steward went down-stream on foot for a distance to see what was coming next and found a stretch of very bad water. On the return a rattlesnake struck at Steward but luckily failed to hit him. Steward killed it. We concluded to stop for the night where we were with the day's record--four rapids run, three let-downs, and 4-5/8 miles in distance.

This camp was not satisfactory and we got out of it early the next morning. While Beaman was making some views across the river we lowered the other two boats through one rapid and then ran them through a second in three-quarters of a mile to a better camping place, from which we went back and helped the third boat, the _Canonita_, do the same. Prof.

wanted to climb out, but the morning being half gone he planned to start after dinner and meanwhile he read Emerson aloud to us till Andy shouted his "Go fur it boys!" Accompanied by Steward and Clem, in the afternoon he climbed up 1200 or 1500 feet to a point where he could see down the river two or three miles. They counted seven rapids, and confirmed the belief that the walls were breaking. The surrounding country was made up of huge ridges that ran in toward the river from five miles back.

Our Camp 44 was in a little valley about a quarter of a mile wide, the bottom covered with cedars and greasewood. The scenery was still on a magnificent scale but barren and desolate. The next morning, August 21st, we were under way at 7.30 and plunged almost immediately into the rapids which had been sighted from the cliffs above. In a little over four miles we let down six times. A seventh rapid we ran and then stopped for noon on the left, every man, as usual, soaking wet. A little rain fell but not enough to consider. After dinner four more rapids were put behind; we ran all but one at which we made a let-down. Our record for this day was eleven rapids in a trifle less than seven miles, and we were camped at the head of another rapid which was to form our eye-opener in the morning. The walls receded from the river three-fourths of a mile and now, though still very high, had more the appearance of isolated cliffs.

We had not a single unpleasant incident till Beaman on this day ran one rapid contrary to Prof.'s orders. He was sharply reprimanded, and for the time being his tendency to insubordination and recklessness was checked. He probably did not mean to be either, but his confidence in his ability to steer through anything led him astray. In the evening by the camp-fire light Prof. read aloud from _Miles Standish_. Although a heavy wind blew sand all over us, no one seemed to complain.

The next morning, August 22d, the first thing we did was to run the rapid beside our camp, a beautiful chute, swift, long, and free from rocks. Immediately below this was one half a mile long in the form of a crescent, the river making a sharp bend with a bad current, but we ran it. This was, in fact, a part of the other rapid, or it might be so cla.s.sed, as was frequently the case where the descent was nearly continuous from one rapid to another. The river was very narrow at this place, not more than seventy-five feet wide. We had not gone far before we reached a rapid where it was prudent to lower the boats, and not more than a few hundred yards below this there was another of a similar character but necessitating harder work. Then we were brought face to face with one more that could not be run with safety on the present stage of water, though we ran a part of it and made a let-down past the remainder. When this was finally accomplished with everything in good order, we found ourselves in front of still another that refused to grant us clear pa.s.sage, and we worked the boats down with lines as in the previous rapids without removing the cargoes. The method was the usual one for the let-downs, three or four men on the line and a couple on board the boat to manoeuvre and protect her. Having by this time advanced three and one-eighth miles from last night's camp we stopped for dinner. On taking up the oars again the first rapid was a fine, clear descent with extremely large waves, through which all three boats dashed with exhilarating speed, leaping part of their length out of the water as their velocity carried them zipping over the crests. Our boat happened to strike near the finish on a submerged rock to the right of the main channel and near sh.o.r.e and there she hung for some moments. The first boat had landed below and some of the men quickly came up to where I could throw them our line, and this pulled us off without any damage worth mentioning. A little below this we ran another successfully and had not gone far before we were astonished at the sight of a horse grazing unconcernedly on some low bluffs on the right. Prof. had discovered this horse with his field gla.s.s while we stopped above to examine one of the rapids. He thought it might indicate the presence of the Major, or of Indians, but he did not mention the matter to any of us. When we were at a good point, and just as all hands had discovered the animal, he ordered a sharp landing on the same side. We ran in quickly. Prof. went up the bank and gave several shouts while we held ourselves ready for action. There was no response. He then went to the horse and found it very lame which, coupled with the absence of any indication of visitors within recent months, caused us to conclude that the horse had been abandoned by Indians who had been encamped here a good while before. We left the place and running another rapid, a little one, we came to a fine spot for a camp on the right at the beginning of a heavy rapid, and there we stayed for the night.

There was now a marked change in the geology, and fossiliferous beds, which for a long time had been absent, appeared. The canyon walls also broke away considerably. The next morning it was decided that we should remain at this camp till after dinner for observation work. I went out with Steward to help him gather fossils, and Beaman took some views, while the others occupied themselves with various duties. The afternoon began by letting the boats by line past the rapid at camp which Beaman called Sharp Mountain Falls, from a pointed peak overhead. There was a drop of about fifteen feet in thirty rods. Beaman wanted to photograph us in the midst of our work, and got ready for it, but a rain-storm came on and we had to wait till it cleared for him to get the picture. We then went ahead das.h.i.+ng through a pretty rapid with a swift current, and next had a long stretch of rapid, though not difficult river, making in all 2-3/4 miles, and camping at five o'clock on the left. The only trouble we had was that in choosing one of four channels our boat got where she was inevitably drawn into the top of a sunken dead tree lodged in the rocks and my starboard row lock was broken off. On sh.o.r.e Steward killed another rattlesnake, of which there seemed to be a good many along the river.

We were now actually out of the Canyon of Desolation and in the beginning of what the Major at first called Coal Canyon, then Lignite, and finally Gray, the name it bears to-day, because of the colour of the walls. The division between the two canyons was the break down where we had seen the horse. Casting up we found that the Canyon of Desolation is ninety-seven miles long. Early the next morning, August 24th, we pulled away from Camp 47 soon running two small rapids of no consequence, and in three miles came to a descent of some ten feet in a very short s.p.a.ce, where we made a let-down. Three fair rapids were next run easily when we halted to examine a hard-looking place where we let down again. An encounter with three more, two of them each a quarter of a mile long, took us till noon, though we ran them and we came to a stop for dinner.

Now the walls had narrowed, the canyon being about half a mile wide at the top--sometimes not more than a quarter. The colour was buff, and there were seams of coal and lignite in places. On one or the other side the cliffs were nearly vertical for about three hundred feet then breaking back to jagged heights reaching about two thousand feet. After dinner having run two more rapids without trouble we arrived at a very difficult locality where the first cliffs, six hundred feet high, came down vertically on both sides quite close to the water. We saw how we could navigate it, but at flood time it would be a most serious proposition, as there would be no footing on either side, unless, perhaps on the huge ma.s.ses of fallen rock. At the present stage we were able to let the boats down by lines. Then we had two easy rapids, followed by another not more difficult but less safe. A little farther on we ran two more which completed the record for the day, and we were glad to camp with a total run of 12-3/8 miles, and many rapids with three let-downs. A feature of the cliffs this day was numerous alcoves and grottoes worn into the sandstone some of them like great caverns with extremely narrow canyons leading into them.

In the morning Prof. with Jones, Cap., and Steward climbed out. The country was elevated above the river about two thousand feet, a wild labyrinth of ragged gulches, gullies, and sharp peaks devoid of vegetation except a few pinons on some slopes, the whole presenting a picture of complete desolation. At a quarter past twelve we were again gliding down on a stiff current. We ran seven easy rapids and let-down by lines twice, before arriving about three o'clock at the mouth of a stream-bed sixty feet wide, which Prof. said was Little White, or Price River. The mouth was so devoid of water that we camped on the smooth sand, it being the only ground free from brush. A sudden rise or cloud-burst would have made it an active place for us but we decided to take the risk for one night. Prof. and Jones tried to get out by following up this river bed but they were not successful. Game was abundant and they thought there might be an Indian trail but they saw none. In the evening Steward gave us a mouth-organ recital and Jack sang a lot of his songs in fine style. The air was soft and tranquil, and knowing we had now conquered the Canyon of Desolation without a serious mishap we all felt well satisfied.

In the morning, August 25th, breakfast was disposed of early, the boats were put in trim and away we went again on a good current running many rapids and making one let-down in a distance of eight miles. I counted fourteen rapids, Steward ten or eleven, Prof. only eight, showing that it is not always easy to separate the rapids where they come so close together. In one the river was no more than thirty feet wide with big waves that made the boats jump and s.h.i.+p water. We reached a bend and saw the end of the canyon only a mile or two away, but we had to make the let-down mentioned before we got there. Our camp, Number 50, was made about noon, just inside the mouth of the canyon on the left, opposite a high, beautiful pinnacle we called Cathedral b.u.t.te afterwards changing the name to Gunnison. Here we would wait till the time appointed for the Major to join us according to the plan. Gray Canyon was now also behind us with its thirty-six miles and numerous rapids.

Adding to it the ninety-seven miles of Desolation made the total canyon from Wonsits Valley 133 miles with a descent of about 550 feet distributed through a hundred rapids, some small, some heavy. The entire fall from our starting point was now some two thousand feet. Prof. and Jones went down the valley two miles with the hope of seeing signs of the Major but not a human being was to be found anywhere.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 12: Many, many years after the canyon voyage as Major Powell with his sister, Mrs. Thompson, and Professor Thompson were approaching Fort Wingate in New Mexico, the sun was setting, and sky and rocks combined to produce a glorious picture. Suddenly he asked his companions to halt and sitting on their horses looking into the wonderful sky he sang with them the above two stanzas.]

CHAPTER VIII

Return of the Major--Some Mormon Friends--No Rations at the Elusive Dirty Devil--Captain Gunnison's Crossing--An All-night Vigil for Cap. and Clem--The Land of a Thousand Cascades--A Bend Like a Bow-knot and a Canyon Labyrinthian--Cleaving an Unknown World--Signs of the Oldest Inhabitant--Through the Canyon of Stillwater to the Jaws of the Colorado.

There was little energy in our camp the day after our arrival at the end of the long struggle with Desolation and Gray canyons, and, also, it being Sunday, we lounged around in a state of relaxation, joyful that we did not have to roll up our blankets and stow them and everything else in the rubber bags and pack the cabins to go on. The boats had been unloaded and hauled on the beach, which was smooth sand, to dry out preparatory to our caulking and repairing them with the pine gum collected in Desolation. During the morning Prof. sent Jack and me down the river a short distance to put up a signal, a small American flag, on the lower end of an island, where it could easily be seen by any one looking for us. All hands kept an ear open for signal shots, which we hoped to hear soon, and have the Major once more in our company. After dinner Prof. and Steward took another walk down the open valley about five miles to reconnoitre, but though they came upon remains of a great many Indian camps, all were old, and the valley appeared as silent and deserted as it was desolate and barren. Along the river there were a few groves of cottonwood, the only vegetation of any consequence to be seen.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A. Map by the U. S. War Department--1868.

Supplied by the courtesy of General Mackenzie, U. S. A., showing the knowledge of the Colorado River basin just before Major Powell began operations. The topography above the junction of the Green and Grand is largely pictorial and approximate. The white s.p.a.ce from the San Rafael to the mouth of the Virgin is the unknown country referred to in this volume, which was investigated in 1871-72-73. Preliminary Maps B, C, and D, at pages 244, 246, and 207, respectively, partly give the results of the work which filled in this area.]

Through this valley pa.s.sed the famous trail from Santa Fe to Los Angeles, laid out in 1830 by that splendid pioneer, William Wolfskill.

The reason he came so far north was because there was no place to cross the canyons below that was known.[13] This path was occasionally travelled for years, and became celebrated as the "Old Spanish Trail."

Here it was that Captain Gunnison of our army in his notable explorations crossed in 1853 on his westward journey, which a few days later proved fatal to him, as he was killed by the Gosi-Utes. Before leaving he established the lat.i.tude and longitude of this crossing, which ever after bore his name.[14] Together with the mouth of the Uinta, the mouth of Henry's Fork, and the mouth of Diamond Creek, this made four points astronomically fixed before the Major came between the Union Pacific crossing and the end of the Grand Canyon. Diamond Creek mouth was determined accurately by Ives in 1858. The trappers and fur hunters between 1824 and 1840, men like Jim Bridger and Kit Carson, had roamed more or less over the region we had come through, and occasionally they had tried to see the river in the canyons. The aridity of the country generally held them back. Ashley, as already noted, had made the pa.s.sage of Red Canyon, and the trapper Meek with several companions had gone through Lodore and Whirlpool one winter on the ice.

Fremont, Simpson, Berthoud, Selden, and some other scientific explorers had pa.s.sed here and there reconnoitring, and Macomb in 1859 had made a reconnaissance to the south and south-west of Gunnison Crossing, so that a general idea of the character of the region had been obtained and a kind of approximate topography had been tentatively thrown in, yet it was mainly an unknown wilderness so far as record went, particularly contiguous to the river. But south from the San Rafael to the Paria and west to the High Plateaus forming the southward continuation of the Wasatch Range, an area of at least 10,000 square miles, there was still a completely unknown country. Indeed, even from the Paria on down to the Grand Wash the region on the right was hardly better understood, though there were several Mormon settlements on the headwaters of the Virgin, and recently the settlement of Kanab had been made farther east. On the south of the Grand Canyon Ives had reconnoitred to some extent, reaching the river at the mouth of Diamond Creek, but at no other point above that did he come to the river nor get anywhere near its canyon above the tributary Habasu (Cataract).

In the entire stretch from Gunnison Crossing to the end of the Grand Canyon, a distance of 587-1/2 miles, but two points were known where the river could be crossed, the Crossing of the Fathers (El Vado de los Padres), about lat.i.tude 37, and the mouth of the Paria, only thirty-five miles lower down. This latter place had been discovered by Jacob Hamblin, or "Old Jacob," as he was familiarly called, and he was the first white man to cross there, which he did in October, 1869. He was a well-known Mormon scout and pioneer of those days. He forded at El Vado his first time in 1858, possibly the first white man after Escalante, though the ford was known to at least Richard Campbell, the trapper, in 1840 or earlier. In 1862 Jacob circ.u.mtoured the Grand and Marble canyons, going from St. George by way of the Grand Wash to the Moki Towns and returning by way of El Vado. Thus the region below us to the left or east had been reconnoitred in a general way by Macomb, while that to the right or west had not had even bird's-eye exploration. Until the Major's unrivalled first descent in 1869 the river was equally unknown. Even above Gunnison Crossing, despite the spasmodic efforts at exploration referred to, the river had remained a geographical enigma, and to the Major belongs the sole credit for solving this great problem throughout its length from the Union Pacific crossing in Wyoming to the mouth of the Virgin River--the last problem of this kind within the United States. Hampered as the first party was by loss of provisions and instruments, they nevertheless made a plat of the immediate course of the stream, portions of which were lost with the men who were killed by the Shewits on leaving the party near the end of the Grand Canyon. So far we had not been bothered in the least by lack of provisions, instruments, time, health, or strength, and we had been able to make an accurate meander of the river, note the topography and geology as we went along, climb out frequently to examine the surrounding country, and in every way carry forward the scientific work as planned. It was now a question whether or not we would get our supplies at the next appointed station, the mouth of the Dirty Devil River, or whether we would be obliged to weigh out what we had, and by limiting ourselves to strict rations put the work through anyhow. By September 5th we would probably have information on this point, that being the limit set for our waiting. Should the Major not arrive by that time, it would mean that we were to go on as best we could with the supplies on hand.

Monday was devoted to overhauling the boats, while Prof. took observations. During a rest he also read aloud to us from Tennyson,

"A land of streams! some, like a downward smoke, Slow dropping veils of thinnest lawn, did go; And some thro' wavering lights and shadows broke, Rolling a slumbrous sheet of foam below.

They saw the gleaming river seaward flow From the inner land; far off three mountain-tops, Three silent pinnacles of aged snow, Stood sunset-flushed; and, dew'd with showery drops, Up-clomb the shadowy pine above the copse."

He was an excellent reader and we enjoyed his various selections. They gave variety and new drift to our thought which was refres.h.i.+ng and beneficial. When the boats were completed they were returned to the river, but for the time being the rations and other things forming their cargoes were permitted to remain on sh.o.r.e covered by the paulins. The boats swung gracefully at their lines and Jack was tempted to get out his fis.h.i.+ng tackle in the early evening and seat himself on one of the cabins to wait patiently for a bite. Softly the river rippled by with an innocent murmur as if it had never been guilty of anything but the calmest and best-behaved motion such as now reflected the great pinnacle across the way standing 1200 feet clear cut against the glowing sky. The air was balmy, no wind blew, and a universal quiet prevailed when suddenly Jack uttered several exclamations not entirely in harmony with the moment. He thought his precious hook was caught on a snag. Pulling gently in order not to break his line the snag lifted with it and presently he was astounded to see, not the branch of a tree or a water-logged stick, but the head of an enormous fish appear above the surface. Had there been some splas.h.i.+ng he would have been prepared for the extraordinary sight but the monster came with barely a wriggle as if he did not know what it was to be caught. He was successfully landed in the middle cabin of the boat, which was empty except for some water, and lay there unhurt as if it were the natural place for him. Casting again another of the same kind came forth and then a third. The longest appeared to be the length of the cabin, as he floated in the water, and that was four feet. He was at least thirty or thirty-six inches with a circ.u.mference of fifteen inches. The others were considerably shorter but nevertheless very large fish. The big one was killed for food and Steward noted that the heart after removal kept up pulsations of twenty beats to the minute for half an hour. These fish are now called Colorado River salmon. The flesh was white and they seemed to us good eating.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Colorado River White Salmon.

Photograph by the Denver, Colorado Canyon, and Pacific Railway Survey under Robert Brewster Stanton, 1889.]

On Tuesday, August 29th, the third day of our waiting, as we were about to return to various occupations after dinner three rapid shots broke suddenly on the quiet air from down the valley. It was our signal. "The Major" cried all in a breath, and a reply signal was instantly fired.

Clem and I were sent immediately to the end of the island, carrying our rifles, of course, for while we had little doubt as to who it was, there might be a surprise. We hurried down while the others watched the bank beyond. As soon as we cleared the bushes and could see the western sh.o.r.e we distinguished the Major and a stranger by his side, with horses. We shouted to them directions for reaching our camp and they rode up till they came opposite to it whence they were ferried over while Jones took the horses down to their camp about four miles below. The Major reported an absolute failure in the attempt to find a way to the mouth of the Dirty Devil River and he had not himself been able to do anything about it. The first trial was eastward from Glencove, a Mormon settlement on the Sevier. It failed because the Indian guides refused to proceed beyond fifty miles and it was not practicable to go on without them. A second party was then sent in a little later under Old Jacob north-eastward from Kanab. They reached a river flowing to the Colorado at about the right place and for many miles followed it with extreme difficulty and hazard even at the low stage of water prevailing, down through a deep, narrow canyon. Sometimes they were compelled to swim their horses where the rapid stream filled the chasm from wall to wall, and continual crossing and re-crossing were necessary from one footing to another. This perilous effort was also abandoned. The Major had gone to Salt Lake and from there, being informed of these results, down to a village called Manti whence he made his way across country to our present position, with several pack animals bringing three hundred pounds of flour, a quant.i.ty of jerked beef, and twenty pounds of sugar.

This was not exactly adequate to the circ.u.mstances but he probably thought it was all he could get through with to the meeting place appointed in the time alloted. While he and Fred Hamblin, the man accompanying him, were eating their dinner, we packed the boats, and when all was ready took them on board, the Major in his old place in the armchair on our boat, and Hamblin on the middle deck of another. In the run down to the camp Hamblin was very uncomfortable for he was not accustomed to boats, especially to boats that ran so fast. There were two little rapids, some swift chutes, and in several places the river shoaled and we grated slightly on the gravel.

Stretching away westward from Gunnison b.u.t.te we saw an exquisitely modelled line of cliffs, some portions being a clear azure blue. At first it was proposed to name them Henry Cliffs, but they were finally called from their colour, Azure. Presently we arrived at the camp where we found another man, Lyman Hamblin, a son of Jacob and nephew of Fred.

They were both Mormons from Kanab near the Arizona line in southern Utah. They had a large amount of mail for us and every one fell to reading letters and papers. August 30th and 31st were spent here getting our work in shape, making sketches and observations, as well as writing letters and helping the Hamblins prepare for their trip back through the wild country. They had met with no Indians on the way in and they hoped to be equally fortunate going back having no desire to see any. In this, as they told me afterwards, they were not successful. They mounted their horses, Friday, September 1st, about four in the afternoon when the west was taking on a rich evening glow and turning in that direction vanished, with a wave of the hand and a good-bye, into the mystery of colour, bearing our letters, the geographic data, the geologic notes, and all the other material which we had collected since leaving the mouth of the Uinta, and which it was thought advisable to send out both for safety and to relieve our crowded cabins. They said that the next evening before they realised it they found themselves so near a large encampment of Indians that there was no getting away, and they did the only thing they could sensibly do, rode boldly on straight into the midst of the strangers with the hope that the band belonged where they were on the west side of the river, in which case they were surely peaceful. Both men spoke Ute well and they had had long experience. The Indians proved to be entirely friendly, and the Hamblins camped with them for the night; not because they wanted to but because they thought it inexpedient to do otherwise. When they left us we felt that they were old friends for they were fine men and most agreeable. Besides, with the exception of Basor who had driven the team down from Salt Lake to the Uinta with our rations, they were the only white men which those of us who had not visited the Uinta Agency had seen since the Harrells in Brown's Park, nearly three months before. An hour after their departure we pushed off and ran down about half a mile, pa.s.sing one little rapid, to the old crossing where we stopped on the left for the night. Beaman and I were commissioned to go back to our Camp Gunnison to get a saw which had been forgotten there; we could not afford to lose so valuable an implement. A well-beaten Indian trail leading up the river gave us easy going and we made good time. The effects of light and colour all around us playing over the mountains and valley gave the surroundings a weird interest. The day was ending. Long shadows stole across the strange topography while the lights on the variegated b.u.t.tes became kaleidoscopic. As for us, we appeared ridiculously inadequate. We ought to have been at least twenty feet high to fit the hour and the scene.

Gradually the lights faded, the shadows faded, then both began to merge till a soft grey-blue dropped over all blending into the sky everywhere except west where the burnish of sunset remained. Before dark the old camp was reached; we found the saw by the last dying rays and then picked our backward path by starlight following the trail as we had come. Silence and the night were one as in the countless years that had carved the dim b.u.t.tes from the rocks of the world primeval when man was not. Beautiful is the wilderness at all times, at all times lovely, but under the spell of the twilight it seems to enfold one in a tender embrace, pus.h.i.+ng back the sordid, the commonplace, and obliterating those magnified nothings that form the weary burden of civilised man.

With keen appreciation we tramped steadily on till at last we perceived through the night gloom the cheerful flicker of our camp-fire, a sight always welcome, for the camp-fire to the explorer is home.

At eight the next morning our business was resumed with the Major happy in his accustomed place. We made a nice run of eighteen miles on a smooth, shallow river, with broken, picturesque low cliffs and isolated b.u.t.tes everywhere. The valley was wide and filled with these rocky hills. For a quarter of a mile on each side of the river there were cottonwood groves offering fine spots for camping, before and after crossing. There seemed to be several places where crossing was accomplished. At one of these we discovered where some Indians had been in camp a few hours before. The placidity of the river permitted the las.h.i.+ng together of the boats once more for a time and while we drifted this way down with the easy current the Major and Prof. took turns at reading aloud from Whittier. _Mogg Megone_ was one selection that was quite in harmony with the surroundings while other poems offered a delightful contrast. There were songs, too, and I specially identify with this particular locality that old college favourite, _Dear Evelina, Sweet Evelina_ which everybody sang, and which the Major often sang alone as he peered ahead into the vista unfolding.

Before night the valley narrowed, the banks looked more like low canyon walls, and the current stiffened. A clump of small cottonwoods suggested a camp as the sun ran down and there we halted. Nor did we go on the next day as the Major desired to go out to a ridge lying to the west, which he had seen from his horse on his way to us across country. Jones went with him and they came back with a fine collection of Cretaceous fossils. Steward and Cap. also went collecting and were successful. Our surroundings were now even more peculiar than heretofore. In many places the region was absolutely barren of all vegetation; thousands of acres at a time had upon them hardly a living plant of any description, being simply bare and barren rock, as devoid of soil as the deck of a s.h.i.+p.

Prof. took observations for lat.i.tude and longitude and the rest of us were busy at our usual affairs. We had very little time to spare when the various necessary duties had been regularly attended to.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Dellenbaugh b.u.t.te.

Near Mouth of San Rafael.

Photograph by E. O. Beaman, 1871.]

As we went on the next morning the desolation of the surroundings increased, if that were possible, and it was easy to read in this one cause of the tardiness of its exploration. The acreage of bare rock grew wider and broader. The b.u.t.tes now often turned to walls about 150 feet high, all much broken, but indicating the approach to another closing in of the rocks upon us. Many of these b.u.t.tes were beautiful in their castellated form as well as because of a picturesque banded character, and opposite our dinner-camp, which was on a ledge of rock, was one surprisingly symmetrical, resembling an artificial structure. I thought it looked like an art gallery, and the Major said it ought to be named after the artist, so he called it "Dellenbaugh's b.u.t.te" then and there.

Another singular feature of this day was a number of alkaline springs discovered bubbling up from the bottom of a sort of bayou or branch of the river. There were at least seventy-five of them, one throwing a column six or eight inches above the surface of the water here about two feet deep. We thought the place worth a name, and called it Undine Springs. Three or four miles below the b.u.t.te named after me we arrived at the mouth of a river, twenty-five feet wide and eight or ten inches deep, coming in from the right. This was the San Rafael. Our camp was made near some cottonwoods between its left bank and the Green. As soon as we landed we perceived that the ground was strewn with flaked chips of chalcedony, jasper, and similar stones. It was plain that here was a favourite workshop of the native arrowhead maker, an artisan now vanished forever. Numerous well-finished beautiful arrow-heads of stone were found, all being placed in the general collection for the Smithsonian Inst.i.tution. Our Camp 54 was elevated considerably above the river, and the surroundings being open, we had views in all directions.

Towards the east we could see the Sierra La Sal, two cl.u.s.ters of rounded peaks, forty or fifty miles away, forming a majestic picture. The place was easy of access, and had been a favourite resort for natives, several acres of camp remains being found. In the morning Prof. began a series of observations to fix the position of the mouth of the San Rafael, while the Major and Jones, with rations, blankets, etc., on their backs for a two days' trip, started early up the tributary stream to see what kind of a country it flowed through. Steward feeling somewhat under the weather did not attempt to do anything, while the photographer and the others busied themselves in their respective lines. The following day the Major and Jones returned as planned, having traced the San Rafael for twenty-five miles. Before they arrived Cap. and Clem went across the Green to travel eastward to some high red b.u.t.tes, one of which they intended to climb for topographical purposes. These b.u.t.tes loomed up in a striking way, and appeared to be no more than six miles off even to Cap.'s experienced eye. The Major described the drainage basin of the San Rafael as wofully barren and desolate, like the rest of our surroundings. They had seen mountains lying beyond the Dirty Devil River, which were the range we then called the Unknown Mountains, there being no record of any one ever having seen them before the Major on his first trip.

Steward, recovering his poise, walked back alone on the east bank of the Green four miles to Dellenbaugh's b.u.t.te to examine it and the intervening geology. He found the b.u.t.te to be about four hundred feet high and composed of stratified gypsum, thinly bedded and of fine quality.

As evening approached we looked for the return of Cap. and Clem, especially when the supper hour arrived, but twilight came, then darkness, and still their footfall was not heard. The Major was greatly disturbed over their failure to come, fearing they had gotten out of water, missed their way, and might now be suffering or demoralised in the arid wastes to eastward. He ordered a large fire to be built on a high spot near camp, where it would be visible for miles in the direction the missing men had gone. We divided into watches of two hours each to keep the fire going, in order that the men should have a guide if they were trying to reach the river in the night. I was called for my turn at two in the morning, and read Whittier while feeding the flames. The sky was mottled with clouds driving impetuously across the zenith, the bright moon gleaming through the interstices as they rapidly pa.s.sed along. My attention was divided between the Quaker poet, the blazing fire, the mysterious environment into which I peered from time to time, and the flying scud playing hide-and-seek with the moon. At three I called Andy, who had breakfast ready before five, and all hands were up prepared to start on a search. By the time we had eaten there was light enough for operations to begin, and the Major, accompanied by Jack, carrying between them two days' rations and as much water as possible, were put across the Green to strike out directly eastward. A couple of hours later Prof. took a boat, with Steward and me to man it and another supply of food and water, and ran down the river a mile, where we headed back into the dry region to intersect at a distance the route the Major was following. We had not gone far before signal shots came to our ears, and through a gla.s.s turned in that direction we rejoiced to see that the Major and Jack had met the lost ones and all was well.

Prof. directed me to go back on foot to our camp with instructions for the other boats to come down, while he, in response to further signals, dropped his boat to a point nearer to the position of the rescue party and easier for them to reach. Cap. had underestimated the distance to the b.u.t.te, which was twice as far as he thought. They walked eight hours to get there only to discover that scaling it was out of the question. A mile and a half beyond they found one they could climb, but by the time they had completed their observations on top of this evening overtook them and they were at least fifteen miles from camp. Having consumed their lunch at noon and drank all their water they were in something of a predicament, but luckily found some water-pockets in the barren rock, recently filled by the rains, so they did not suffer for thirst, and going hungry is not dangerous. Over the wide surfaces of bare rock they travelled toward camp till night forced them to wait for daylight, when they kept on till they met the Major and Jack with water and food.

No sooner had I arrived at the camp than the sky which was leaden and low began to drop its burden upon us. Packing up could not be done till the rain slackened, and we sheltered ourselves as well as we could. As we waited a deep roaring sound from not far off presently fell on our ears and we were puzzled to explain it till an examination showed a recently dry gulch filled with a muddy torrent which leaped the low cliff into the river, a sullen cascade. The San Rafael, too, was a booming flood. We packed the boats as soon as we could and ran down about two miles and a half to where the first boat was. Cliffs bordered the river again, 50 to 100 feet high, then 200 or 300, and we saw we were in the beginning of the next canyon called from its winding course, Labyrinth. Over these straight walls hundreds of beautiful cascades born of the rain were plunging into the river. They were of all sizes, all heights, and almost all colours, chocolate, amber, and red predominating. The rocky walls, mainly of a low purplish-red tint, were cut into by the river till the outside curves of the bends were perpendicular and sometimes slightly more than perpendicular, so that some of the cascades fell clear without a break. The acres of bare rock composing the surface of the land on both sides collected the rain as does the roof of a house, and the rills and rivulets rapidly uniting soon formed veritable floods of considerable proportions seeking the bosom of the river. This seemed the most fantastic region we had yet encountered. b.u.t.tes, pinnacles, turrets, spires, castles, gulches, alcoves, canyons and canyons, all hewn, "as the years of eternity roll"

out of the verdureless labyrinth of solid rock, made us feel more than ever a sense of intruding into a forbidden realm, and having permanently parted from the world we formerly knew.

About noon we caught up to the other boat and all had dinner together, happy that nothing serious had befallen Cap. and Clem. During the whole afternoon rain steadily fell upon the top of this rock-roofed world till the river rose several inches while its colour turned to a dull yellow, then to a red, showing how heavy the rainfall had been in the back country. We had our rubber ponchos on but we were more or less damp and we began to notice that summer had pa.s.sed for the air was chilly. The river was perfectly smooth making navigation easy and we were able to pull steadily along with no interruption from rapids. The walls ever increased their height while over the edges the numberless astonis.h.i.+ng rain cascades continued to play, varying their volume according to the downpour from the sky. Before long the cliffs were from 800 to 1000 feet high, often perpendicular, giving the waterfalls grand plunges. These graceful tributaries were now occasionally perfectly clear and they sometimes fell so far without a break that they vanished in feathery white spray. A projecting ledge at times might gather this spray again to form a second cascade before the river level was reached. The scene was quite magical and considering the general aridity for a large part of the year, it appeared almost like a phantasm.

"A land of streams! some, like a downward smoke, Slow dropping veils of thinnest lawn, did go."

The river twisted this way and that with the tongues of the bends filled with alluvial deposit bearing dense clumps of scrub-oak, and gra.s.s. Each new bend presented a fresh picture with the changing waterfalls leaping over by the dozen till we might have thought ourselves in some Norwegian fiord, and we gave far more attention to admiring the scenery than to navigating the boats. Late in the day we landed at the left on the point of a bend and chopped a path through the thick oak brush to a gra.s.sy glade, where we soon had the paulins stretched across oars supported by other oars forming comfortable shelters in front of which huge fires of dead oak and driftwood were kept going to dry things out. Andy set his pots to boiling and supper was soon prepared.