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Throi^i the GRAND CANYON
from WYOMING to MEXICO

Ellsworth L. Kolb

8 DEC 1914

Through the Grand Canyon
from Wyoming to Mexico

THE MACMILLAN COMPANY

NEW YORK • BOSTON • CHICAGO • DALLAS
ATLANTA ' SAN FRANCISCO

MACMILLAN & CO., LIMITED

LONDON ' BOMBAY • CALCUTTA
MELBOURNE

THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD.

TORONTO

Through the Grand Canyon
from Wyoming to Mexico

E. i

th a Foreword by Owen TPister

With 48 Plates from Photographs
by the Author and his brother

New York ( ,

The Macmillan Company

Set up and electrotyped. Published October, 1914.

J. 8. Cashing Co. — Berwick & Smith Co.
Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.

M- 2. oG
Bancroft Libra?

Dedication

TO THE MANY FRIENDS

TLLED " FOR US, IF NOT

DURING THE ONE HUNDRED ONE DAYS OF OUR RIVER TRIP

THIS VOLUME
IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED

FOREWORD

IT is a twofold courage of which the author of this book
is the serene possessor — shared equally by his daring brother ;
and one side of this bravery is made plain throughout the
following pages. Every youth who has in him a spark of
adventure will kindle with desire to battle his way also from
Green River to the foot of Bright Angel Trail ; while every
man whose bones have been stiffened and his breath made
short by the years, will remember wistfully such wild tastes
of risk and conquest that he, too, rejoiced in when he was
young.

Whether it deal with the climbing of dangerous peaks, or
the descent (as here) of some fourteen hundred miles of water
both mysterious and ferocious, the well-told tale of a perilous
journey, planned with head and carried through with daunt-
less persistence, always holds the attention of its readers and
gives them many a thrill. This tale is very well told. Though
it is the third of its kind, it differs from its predecessors more
than enough to hold its own : no previous explorers have
attempted to take moving pictures of the Colorado River with
themselves weltering in its foam. More than this : while the
human race lasts it will be true, that any man who is lucky
enough to fix upon a hard goal and win it, and can in direct
and simple words tell us how he won it, will write a good book.

vii

viii FOREWORD

Perhaps this planet does somewhere else contain a thing
like the Colorado River — but that is no matter ; we at any
rate in our continent possess one of nature's very vastest
works. After The River and its tributaries have done with
all sight of the upper world, have left behind the bordering
plains and streamed through the various gashes which their
floods have sliced in the mountains that once stopped their
way, then the culminating wonder begins. The River has
been flowing through the loneliest part which remains to us
of that large space once denominated " The Great American
Desert" by the vague maps in our old geographies. It has
passed through regions of emptiness still as wild as they were
before Columbus came ; where not only no man lives now
nor any mark is found of those forgotten men of the cliffs,
but the very surface of the earth itself looks monstrous and
extinct. Upon one such region in particular the author of
these pages dwells, when he climbs up out of the gulf in whose
bottom he has left his boat by the River, to look out upon a
world of round gray humps and hollows which seem as if it
were made of the backs of huge elephants. Through such a
country as this, scarcely belonging to our era any more than
the mammoth or the pterodactyl, scarcely belonging to time
at all, does the Colorado approach and enter its culminating
marvel. Then, for 283 miles it inhabits a nether world of its
own. The few that have ventured through these places and
lived are a handful to those who went in and were never seen
again. The white bones of some have been found on the

FOREWORD ix

shores; but most were drowned; and in this water no bodies
ever rise, because the thick sand that its torrent churns along
clogs and sinks them.

This place exerts a magnetic spell. The sky is there
above it, but not of it. Its being is apart ; its climate ; its
light ; its own. The beams of the sun come into it like vis-
itors. Its own winds blow through it, not those of outside,
where we live. The River streams down its mysterious
reaches, hurrying ceaselessly ; sometimes a smooth sliding
lap, sometimes a falling, broken wilderness of billows and
whirlpools. Above stand its walls, rising through space upon
space of silence. They glow, they gloom, they shine. Bend
after bend they reveal themselves, endlessly new in endlessly
changing veils of colour. A swimming and jewelled blue pre-
dominates, as of sapphires being melted and spun into skeins
of shifting cobweb. Bend after bend this trance of beauty
and awe goes on, terrible as the Day of Judgment, sublime
as the Psalms of David. Five thousand feet below the opens
and barrens of Arizona, this canyon seems like an avenue con-
ducting to the secret of the universe and the presence of the
gods.

Is much wonder to be felt that its beckoning enchantment
should have drawn two young men to dwell beside it for many
years ; to give themselves wholly to it ; to descend and ascend
among its buttressed pinnacles ; to discover caves and water-
falls hidden in its labyrinths ; to climb, to creep, to hang in
mid-air, in order to learn more and more of it, and at last

X FOREWORD

to gratify wholly their passion in the great adventure of this
journey through it from end to end? No siren song could
have lured travellers more than the siren silence of the Grand
Canyon : but these young men did not leave their bones to
whiten upon its shores. The courage that brought them out
whole is plain throughout this narrative, in spite of its mod-
esty ; but they have had to exert and maintain an equal cour-
age against another danger.

The Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe Railway is the most
majestic system between Chicago and the Pacific. Years in
advance of its imitators, it established along its course hotels
and restaurants where both architecture and cooking made
part of an immense plan that was something not far from
genius. The very names of these hotels, chosen from the
annals of the Spanish explorers, stamp them with distinction.
Outside and in, they conform alike to climate and tradition.
They are like shells in the desert, echoing the tale of Coro-
nado, the legend of the Indian. No corporation equals the
Santa Fe in its civilized regard for beauty. To any traveller
asking what way to go to California for scenery, comfort,
pleasure, and good food, I should answer, by this way.

But is the Santa Fe wise in its persecution of the brothers
Kolb ? Of course it has made the Grand Canyon accessible
to thousands where only scores could go before. And for the
money and the enterprise spent upon this, nobody but a
political mad-dog would deny the railroad's right to a generous
return. But why try to swallow the whole canyon ? Why,

FOREWORD xi

because the brothers Kolb are independent, crush their little
studio, stifle their little trade, push these genuine artists and
lovers of nature away from the Canyon that nobody has photo-
graphed or can photograph so well ? This isn't to regard
Beauty. You're hurting your own cause.

The attempt, so far, has failed to extinguish these indepen-
dent brothers. But is such an attempt wise ? Isn't it a good
specimen of that high-handed disregard of everybody but
yourself, which has bred (and partly justified) the popular
rage that now undiscriminatingly threatens honest and dis-
honest dollars alike, so that the whole nation is at the mercy
of laws passed by the overdone emotions and the underdone

intelligence of the present hour ?

OWEN WISTER.

PREFACE

THIS is a simple narrative of our recent photographic trip
down the Green and Colorado rivers in rowboats — our ob-
servations and impressions. It is not intended to replace in
any way the books published by others covering a similar
journey. Major J. W. Powell's report of the original explo-
ration, for instance, is a classic, literary and geological ; and
searchers after excellence may well be recommended to his
admirable work.

Neither is this chronicle intended as a handbook of the
territory traversed — such as Mr. F. S. Dellenbaugh's two
volumes : " The Romance of the Grand Canyon," and " A
Canyon Voyage." We could hardly hope to add anything
of value to his wealth of detail. In fact, much of the data
given here — such as distances, elevations, and records of
other expeditions — is borrowed from the latter volume.
And I take this opportunity of expressing our appreciation
to Mr. Dellenbaugh for his most excellent and entertaining
books.

We are indebted to Mr. Julius F. Stone, of Columbus,
Ohio, for much valuable information and assistance. Mr.
Stone organized a party and made the complete trip down
the Green and Colorado rivers in the fall and winter of 1909,

Xlll

xiv PREFACE

arriving at Needles, California, on November 27, 1909.
He freely gave us the benefit of his experience and presented
us with the complete plans of the boats he used.

One member of this party was Nathan Galloway, of Rich-
field, Utah. To him we owe much of the success of our
journey. Mr. Galloway hunts and traps through the wilds
of Utah, Colorado, and Arizona, and has a fame for skill and
nerve throughout this entire region. He makes a yearly trip
through the upper canyons, usually in a boat of his own con-
struction ; and in addition has the record of being the only
person who has made two complete trips through the entire
series of canyons, clear to Needles. He it is who has worked
out the type of boats we used, and their management in the
dangerous waters of the Colorado.

We have tried to make this narrative not only simple, as
we say, but truthful. However, no two people can see things
in exactly the same light. To some, nothing looks big ; to
others, every little danger is unconsciously magnified out of
all proportion. For instance, we can recall rapids which ap-
peared rather insignificant at first, but which seemed decidedly
otherwise after we had been overturned in them and had felt
their power — especially at the moment when we were sure we
had swallowed a large part of the water that composed them.

The reader will kindly excuse the use of the first person,
both singular and plural. It is our own story, after all, and
there seems to be no other way than to tell it as you find it
here.

CONTENTS

CHAPTBR FAGK

I. PREPARATIONS AT GREEN RIVER CITY, WYOMING . i

II. INTERESTING SIGHTS OF SOUTHERN WYOMING . 12

III. THE GATEWAY OF ALL THE CANYONS ... 22

IV. SUSPICIOUS HOSTS 36

V. THE BATTLE WITH LODORE 50

VI. HELL'S HALF MILE 64

VII. JIMMY GOES OVER THE MOUNTAIN . . .71

VIII. AN INLAND EXCURSION 83

IX. CANYON OF DESOLATION 93

X. HOSPITABLE RANCHMEN 102

XI. WONDERS OF EROSION in

XII. COULD WE SUCCEED ? 121

XIII. A COMPANION VOYAGER . . . . . .129

XIV. A PATIENT AMID THE CATARACTS . . . .142
XV. PLACER GOLD 156

XVI. A WARNING 169

XVII. A NIGHT OF THRILLS 178

XVIII. MARBLE HALLS AND MARBLE WALLS . . . 190

XIX. SIGNALLING OUR CANYON HOME .... 203

XX. ONE MONTH LATER 219

XXI. WHAT CHRISTMAS EVE BROUGHT . . . .235

XXII. SHORT OF PROVISIONS IN A SUNLESS GORGE . . 249

XXIII. THE LAST PORTAGE AND THE LAST RAPIDS . . 267

XXIV. ON THE CREST OF A FLOOD 280

XXV. FOUR DAYS TO YUMA 290

XXVI. ACROSS THE MEXICO BORDER . . . . 303

XXVII. THE GULF OF CALIFORNIA 32*

ILLUSTRATIONS

The Grand Canyon near the mouth of Ha Va Su Creek

Frontispiece

FACING PACK

After a difficult picture. E. C. Kolb on rope . . 2

In the Grand Canyon near the Little Colorado . . 6

The start at Green River, Wyoming 10

Fire hole chimneys 10

Boats and crew. Photo taken in the Grand Canyon . 20

Inside of the first canyons 26

Tilted rocks at Kingfisher Canyon 26

" Immense rocks had fallen from the cliff " ... 36
The rocks were dark red ; occasional pines grew on the

ledges, making a charming combination of colour . 40
" We stopped at one hay ranch close to the Utah-Colo-
rado line " 48

Remarkable entrance to Lodore Canyon ... 50
"The river cut a channel under the walls" at Lower

Disaster Falls 56

" Everything was wet " . . . . . . 56

"The canyon was gloomy and darkened with shreds of

clouds" 64

" It took nine loads to empty one boat " ... 68

"An upright log was found wedged between the boulders " 68

Echo Cliffs. " This was the end of Lodore " . . 74
End of Echo Cliffs. The mouth of the Yampa River is

on the right ........ 74

" Here was one end of the rainbow of rock that began

on the other side of the mountains " . . • 7^

xviii ILLUSTRATIONS

FACING PAGE

Each bed was placed in a rubber and a canvas sack.

Photo taken in Marble Canyon .... 84
" Now for a fish story " . . . . . .94

Pat Lynch : the canyon hermit 106

Skeleton found in the Grand Canyon . . . .114

The Buttes of the Cross . . . . . .118

The Land of Standing Rocks was like a maze . .122
Rocks overhanging the Colorado's Gorge . . .122
Thirteen hundred feet above the Green River . .124
The junction of the two rivers. The Grand River is on

the right . . . . . . . . .128

Looking west into Cataract Canyon . . . .134

Charles Smith and his boat 134

Rapid No. 22 in Cataract Canyon 140

Camp in the heart of Cataract Canyon .... 146
Lower Cataract Canyon. Boats tandem . . .152
Beginning of a natural bridge. Glen Canyon . .152

Pictographs in Glen Canyon 160

Rainbow Natural Bridge between the Colorado River

and Navajo Mountain. Height three hundred and

eight feet ; span two hundred and seventy feet . 168

Placer dredge at Lee's Ferry 174

The Soap Creek Rapid; a little above lowest stage.

Photo published by permission of Julius F. Stone . 188
" It was too good a camp to miss " .... 192
Arch in Marble Canyon. Note figure on right . .192

Walls of Marble Canyon 196

Approaching the Grand Canyon. Note boat . . 202

In the Grand Canyon below the Sockdologer Rapid.

Extreme height of wall about five thousand feet . 210
The Rust Tramway. Span four hundred and fifty feet 214
Bright Angel Creek and Canyon 218

ILLUSTRATIONS xjx

FACING PAGB

Rough water in Hermit Creek Rapid. Height of distant

wave about fifteen feet 222

Type of rapid in the granite, near Bass Trail . . 230

The break in the Edith 240

Merry Christmas. The repair was made with bilge

boards, canvas, paint, and tin .... 240

Pulling clear of a rock ....... 248

A shower bath ........ 248

Grand Canyon at the mouth of Ha Va Su Canyon.
Medium high water. Frontispiece shows same

place in low water ....... 250

Lava Falls. Lava on left ; hot springs on right . . 254
The last portage. The rocks were ice filmed. Note

potholes ......... 270

Watching for the signal fire. Mrs. Emery and Edith Kolb 278

The Grand Canyon from the head of Bright Angel Trail 284

The Cork Screw : lower end of Bright Angel Trail . 294

Zoroaster Temple : from the end of Bright Angel Trail . 318
Ten miles from the Gulf of California. Coming up on a

twenty-foot tide . . . . . . . 330

Sunset on the lower Colorado River . . . . 330

Through the Grand Canyon
from Wyoming to Mexico

THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM
WYOMING TO MEXICO

CHAPTER I

PREPARATIONS AT GREEN RIVER CITY, WYOMING

EARLY in September of 1911 my brother Emery and I
landed in Green River City, Wyoming, ready for the
launching of our boats on our long-planned trip down the
Green and Colorado rivers.

For ten years previous to this time we had lived at
the Grand Canyon of Arizona, following the work of
scenic photography. In a general way we had covered
much of the country adjacent to our home, following
our pack animals over ancient and little-used trails,
climbing the walls of tributary canyons, dropping over
the ledges with ropes when necessary, always in search of
the interesting and unusual.

After ten years of such work many of our plans in
connection with a pictorial exploration of the Grand
Canyon were crowned with success. Yet all the while
our real ambition remained unsatisfied.

2 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

We wanted to make the "Big Trip" — as we called
it ; in other words, we wanted a pictorial record of the
entire series of canyons on the Green and Colorado rivers.

The time had come at last, after years of hoping,
after long months of active preparation.

We stood at the freight window of the station at
Green River City asking for news of our boats. They
had arrived and could be seen in their crates shoved away
in a corner. It was too late to do anything with them
that day ; so we let them remain where they were, and
went out to look over the town.

Green River City proved to be a busy little place
noisy with switch engines, crowded with cattle-men
and cowboys, and with hunting parties outfitting for
the Jackson Hole country. A thoroughly Western town
of the better sort, with all the picturesqueness of people
and surroundings that the name implies.

It was busier than usual, even, that evening; for
a noisy but good-natured crowd had gathered around the
telegraph office, eager for news of a wrestling match
then taking place in an Eastern city. As we came up
they broke into a cheer at the news that the American
wrestler had defeated his foreign opponent. There was
a discussion as to what constituted the "toe-hold,"
three boys ran an impromptu foot-race, there was some
talk on the poor condition of the range, and the party
began to break up.

AFTER A DIFFICULT PICTURE.

GREEN RIVER CITY, WYOMING 3

The little excitement over, we returned to the hotel ;
feeling, in spite of our enthusiasm, somewhat lonesome
and very much out of place. Our sleep that night was
fitful and broken by dreams wherein the places we had
known were strangely interwoven with these new scenes
and events. Through it all we seemed to hear the roar
of the Rio Colorado.

We looked out of the window the next morning, on
a landscape that was novel, yet somehow familiar. The
river, a quarter of a mile away, very clear and unruffled
under its groves of cottonwood, wound through low
barren hills, as unlike as could be to the cliffs and chasms
we knew so well. But the colours — gray, red, and umber,
just as Moran has painted them — reassured us. We
seemed not so far from home, after all.

It was Wyoming weather, though; clear and cold,
after a windy night. When, after breakfast, we went
down to the river, we found that a little ice had formed
along the margin.

The days of final preparation passed quickly —
with unpacking of innumerable boxes and bundles,
checking off each article against our lists ; and with a long
and careful overhauling of our photographic outfit.

This last was a most important task, for the success
of our expedition depended on our success as photog-
raphers. We could not hope to add anything of impor-
tance to the scientific and topographic knowledge of the

4 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

canyons already existing : and merely to come out alive
at the other end did not make a strong appeal to our
vanity. We were there as scenic photographers in love
with their work, and determined to reproduce the marvels
of the Colorado's canyons, as far as we could do it.

In addition to three film cameras we had 8 X 10 and
5X7 plate cameras ; a plentiful supply of plates and
films ; a large cloth dark-room ; and whatever chemicals
we should need for tests. Most important of all, we
had brought a motion-picture camera. We had no real
assurance that so delicate an apparatus, always difficult
to use and regulate, could even survive the journey —
much less, in such inexperienced hands as ours, repro-
duce its wonders. But this, nevertheless, was our secret
hope, hardly admitted to our most intimate friends
— that we could bring out a record of the Colorado
as it is, a live thing, armed as it were with teeth, ready to
crush and devour.

There was shopping to do ; for the purchases of pro-
visions, with a few exceptions, had been left to the last.
There were callers, too — an embarrassing number of
them. We had camped on a small island near the town,
not knowing when we did so that it had recently been
put aside for a public park. The whole of Green River
City, it seemed, had learned of our project, and came to
inspect, or advise, or jeer at us. The kindest of them
wished us well ; the other sort told us "it would serve us

GREEN RIVER CITY, WYOMING 5

right" ; but not one of our callers had any encouragement
to offer. Many were the stories of disaster and death
with which they entertained us. One story in particular,
as it seems never to have reached print — though un-
questionably true — ought to be set down here.

Three years before two young men from St. Louis had
embarked here, intending to follow the river throughout
its whole course. They were expert canoeists, powerful
swimmers, and equipped with a steel boat, we were told,
built somewhat after the style of a canoe. They chose
the time of high water — not knowing, probably, that
while high water decreases the labour of the passage, it
greatly increases the danger of it. They came to the first
difficult rapid in Red Canyon, seventy odd miles below
Green River City. It looked bad to them. They landed
above it and stripped to their underclothing and socks.
Then they pushed out into the stream.

Almost at once they lost control of the boat. It over-
turned ; it rolled over and over ; it flung them off and
left them swimming for their lives. In some way, pos-
sibly the currents favouring, they reached the shore. The
boat, with all its contents, was gone. There they were,
almost naked, without food, without weapons, without the
means of building a fire; and in an uninhabited and
utterly inhospitable country.

For four days they wandered, blistered by the sun by
day; nearly frozen at night, bruised by the rocks, and

6 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

torn by the brambles. Finally they reached the ranch
at the head of the canyons and were found by a half-
breed Indian, who cared for them. Their underwear
had been made into bindings for their lacerated feet;
they were nearly starved, and on the verge of mental
collapse. After two weeks' treatment in the hospital
at Green River City they were partially restored to health.
Quite likely they spent many of the long hours of their
convalescence on the river bank, or on the little island,
watching the unruffled stream glide underneath the cot-
tonwoods.

Such tales as this added nothing to our fears, of course
— for the whole history of the Colorado is one long story
of hardship and disaster, and we knew, even better than
our advisors, what risks lay before us. We told our new-
found friends, in fact, that we had lived for years on the
brink of the Grand Canyon itself, a gorge deeper and more
awful, even, than Lodore ; with a volume of water ten
times greater. We knew, of course, of the river's vast
length, of the terrible gorges that confined it, of the
hundreds of rapids through which a boat would have
to pass.

We knew, too, how Major Powell, undismayed by
legends of underground channels, impassable cataracts,
and whirlpools ; of bloodthirsty tribes haunting its re-
cesses, — had passed through the canyons in safety, meas-
uring and surveying as he went. We also knew of the

< opyrtght by Kolb Bros.
IN THE GRAND CANYON NEAR THE LITTLE COLORADO.

GREEN RIVER CITY, WYOMING 7

many other attempts that had been made — most of them
ending in disaster or death, a very few being successful.

Well, it had been done ; l it could be done again — this
was our answer to their premonitions.

We had present worries enough to keep us from dwell-
ing too much on the future. It had been our intention to
start two weeks earlier, but there had been numerous
unavoidable delays. The river was low; "the lowest
they had seen it in years" they told us, and falling lower
every day. There were the usual difficulties of arranging
a lot of new material, and putting it in working order.

At last we were ready for the boats, and you may be
sure we lost no time in having them hauled to the river,
and launching them.

They were beauties — these two boats of ours — grace-
ful, yet strong in line, floating easily, well up in the water,
in spite of their five hundred pounds' weight. They were
flat-bottomed, with a ten-inch rake or raise at either
end ; built of white cedar, with unusually high sides ;
with arched decks in bow and stern, for the safe storing

1 The various expeditions which are credited with continuous or complete journeys
through all the canyons and the dates of leaving Green River, Wyoming, are as follows :

Major Powell, ist journey. May 24, 1869.

Major Powell, 2nd journey. May 22, 1871. Discontinued at Kanab Canyon
in the Grand Canyon.

Galloway. Sept. 20, 1895 and l896-

Flavell. Aug. 27, 1896.

Stone. Sept. 12, 1909.

Kolb. Sept. 8, 1911.

For a more complete record of the earlier parties see appendix.

8 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

of supplies. Sealed air chambers were placed in each end,
large enough to keep the boats afloat even if filled with
water. The compartment at the bow was lined with tin,
carefully soldered, so that even a leak in the bottom would
not admit water to our precious cargoes. We had placed
no limit on their cost, only insisting that they should be
of materials and workmanship of the very best, and
strictly in accordance with our specifications. In every
respect but one they pleased us. Imagine our consterna-
tion when we discovered that the hatch covers were
anything but water-tight, though we had insisted more
upon this, perhaps, than upon any other detail. Loose
boards, with cross-pieces, fastened with little thumb-
screws — there they were, ready to admit the water at
the very first upset.

There was nothing to be done. It was too late to
rebuild the hatches even if we had had the proper ma-
terial. Owing to the stage of water it was imperative
that we should start at once. Bad as it would be to have
water in our cargo, it would be worse to have too little
water in the rock-obstructed channels of Red Canyon, or
in the "flats" at Brown's Park for instance.

Certainly the boats acted so beautifully in the water
that we could almost overlook the defective hatches.
Emery rowed upstream for a hundred yards, against a
stiff current, and came back jubilant.

"They're great — simply great !" he exclaimed.

GREEN RIVER CITY, WYOMING 9

We had one real cause for worry, for actual anxiety,
though ; and as each hour brought us nearer to the time of
our departure, we grew more and more desperate. What
about our third man ?

We were convinced that a third man was needed ; if
not for the duties of camp making, helping with the cook-
ing and portaging ; at least, for turning the crank of the
motion-picture camera. Emery and I could not very
well be running rapids, and photographing ourselves in
the rapids at the same time. Without a capable assistant,
therefore, much of the real purpose would be defeated.

Our first move, accordingly, had been to secure the
services of a strong, level-headed, and competent man.
Friends strongly advised us to engage a Canadian canoe-
man, or at least some one familiar with the management
of boats in rough water. It was suggested, also, that we
might secure the help of some one of the voyagers who
had been members of one of the previous expeditions.

But — we may as well be frank about it — we did not
wish to be piloted through the Colorado by a guide. We
wanted to make our own trip in our own way. If we
failed, we would have no one but ourselves to blame ; if
we succeeded, we would have all the satisfaction that
comes from original, personal exploration. In other
words, we wanted a man to execute orders, not to give
them. But that man was hard to find !

There had been many applicants ; some of them from

10 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

distant parts of the country. One by one they were
sifted out. At length we decided on one man ; but later
he withdrew. We turned elsewhere, but these appli-
cations were withdrawn, until there remained but a
single letter, from a young man in San Francisco. He
seemed in every way qualified. We wrote accepting his
application, but while waiting to hear from us a civil
service position had been offered and accepted. "He
was sorry"; and so were we, for his references proved
that he was a capable man. Later he wrote that he had
secured a substitute. We replied on the instant, by wir-
ing money for transportation, with instructions for the
new man to report at once at Green River. We took very
much for granted, having confidence in our friends' sin-
cerity and knowledge of just what was required.

The time had passed, two days before ; but — no sign
of our man ! We wrote, we telegraphed, we walked back
and forth to every train ; but still he did not come. Had
this man, too, failed us ?

Then "Jimmy" came — just the night before we were
to leave. And never was a man more heartily welcome !

With James Fagen of San Francisco our party was
complete. He was an Irish-American, aged 22 years, a
strong, active, and willing chap. To be sure, he was
younger, and not so experienced at "roughing it" as we
had hoped. But his good qualities, we were sure, would
make up for what was lacking.

^SMJ^rfQBKfii

THE START AT GREEN RIVER, WYOMING.

FIRE HOLE CHIMNEYS.

GREEN RIVER CITY, WYOMING II

Evening found us encamped a half mile below the town,
near the county bridge. Our preparations were finished
— even to the final purchase of odds and ends ; with am-
munition for shot-gun and rifle. We threw our sleeping-
bags on the dry ground close to the river's edge, and, all our
anxieties gone, we turned our faces to the stars and slept.

At daybreak we were aroused by the thunder of hoofs
on the bridge above us, and the shouts of cowboys driv-
ing a large herd of half-broken horses. We tumbled into
our clothes, splashed our faces with ice-cold water from
the river, and hurried over to the hotel for a last breakfast.

Then we sat down — in the little hotel at Green River
City — as others had done before, to write last messages
to those who were nearest and dearest to us. A telegram
to our parents in an Eastern city ; and another to Emery's
wife and little girl, at Bright Angel, more than eight
hundred miles down this self-same river — these, some-
how, took longer to write than the letters themselves.
But whatever we may have felt, we finished this final
correspondence in silence, and hurried back to the river.

Something of a crowd had gathered on the bridge to
wish us bon voyage. Shouting up to them our thanks for
their hospitality, and telling them to "look pleasant,"
we focussed the motion-picture camera on them, Emery
turning the crank, as the boat swung out into the current.

So began our journey, on Friday, September the 8th,
1911, at 9.30 A.M., as entered in my journal.

CHAPTER II

INTERESTING SIGHTS OF SOUTHERN WYOMING

ALL this preparation — and still more, the vexatious
delays • — had been a heavy tax upon us. We needed a
vacation. We took it — six pleasant care-free days —
hunting and fishing as we drifted through the sixty miles
of southern Wyoming. There were ducks and geese on
the river to test our skill with the shot-gun. Only two
miles below Green River City Emery secured our first
duck, a promise of good sport to follow. An occasional
cottontail rabbit was seen, scurrying to cover through
the sage-brush, when we made a detour from the boats.
We saw many jack-rabbits too — with their long legs,
and exaggerated ears — creatures swifter, even, than the
coyotes themselves.

We saw few people, though an occasional rancher hailed
us from the shore. Men of the open themselves, the
character of our expedition appealed to them. Their
invitations to acome up to the ranch, and spend the
evening" were always hearty, and could seldom be re-
fused if the day was nearly gone.

INTERESTING SIGHTS OF SOUTHERN WYOMING 13

The Logan boys' ranch, for instance, was our first
camp ; but will be one of the last to be forgotten. The
two Logan boys were sturdy, companionable young men,
full of pranks, and of that bubbling, generous humour
that flourishes in this Western air. We were amused by
their kindly offer to allow Jimmy to ride "the little bay"
— a beautiful animal, with the shifty eye of a criminal.
But Jimmy, though city-bred, was not to be trapped, and
declined ; very wisely, as we thought. We photographed
their favourite horses, and the cabin ; also helped them
with their own camera, and developed some plates in
the underground storm-cellar, — a perfect dark-room, as
it happened.

We took advantage of this pleasant camp to make a
few alterations about our boats. Certain mechanical
details had been neglected in our desire to be off, our
intention being to look after them as occasion demanded.
Our short run had already shown us where we were weak
or unprepared. The rowlocks needed strengthening.
One had come apart in our first brush with a little riffle.
The rowlocks were of a little-used type, but very service-
able in dangerous waters. Inside the usual rowlock a
heavy ring was hung, kept in place by strong set-screws,
but allowing full play in every direction. These rings
were slipped over the oars ; then the usual leather collar
was nailed on the oar, making it impossible for the rings
to become separated from the oars. The holes for the

14 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

set-screws were too shallow, so we went over the entire
lot to deepen them. We foresaw where a break might
occur, and hung another lock of the open type on a cord,
beside each oar, ready for instant use in case of emergency.

The Logan boys, seeing our difficulties in making some
of these changes, came to our relief. "Help yourselves
to the blacksmith shop," they said heartily. Here was
an opportunity. Much time was consumed in providing
a device to hold our extra oars — out of the way on top
of the deck, but available at a moment's notice. Thanks
to the Logan boys and their blacksmith shop, these and
many other little details were corrected once for all ; and
we launched our boats in confidence on the morning of
September 10.

A few miles below we came to the locally famous Fire
Hole Chimneys, interesting examples of the butte forma-
tion, so typical of the West. There were several of these
buttes, about 800 feet high, composed of stratified rock ;
in colour quite similar to the rocks at Green River City,
but capped with rock of a peculiar burnt appearance,
though not of volcanic origin. Some of the buttes sloped
up from the very edge of the river ; others were separated
from the river by low flats, covered with sage-brush and
bunch-grass, — that nutritious food of the range stock.
At the water's edge was the usual fringe of willows, cot-
tonwoods, and shrubs innumerable, — all mirrored in the
limpid surface of Green River.

INTERESTING SIGHTS OF SOUTHERN WYOMING 15

At the foot of the cliffs were a number of wild burros,
old and young — fuzzy little baby-burros, looking ridic-
ulously like jack-rabbits — snorting their indignation
at our invasion of their privacy. Strange, by the way,
how quickly these wild asses lose their wildness of carriage
when broken, and lapse into the utmost docility !

Just below the Chimneys Emery caught sight of fish
gathered in a deep pool, under the foliage of a cottonwood
tree which had fallen into the river. Our most tempting
bait failed to interest them ; so Emery, ever clever with
hook and line, "snagged" one just to teach them better
manners. It was a Colorado River salmon or whitefish.
That evening I "snagged" a catfish and used this for
salmon bait, a fourteen-pound specimen rewarding the
attempt.

These salmon were old friends of ours, being found from
one end to the other of the Colorado, and on all its tribu-
taries. They sometimes weigh twenty-five or thirty
pounds, and are common at twenty pounds ; being
stockily built fish, with large, flat heads. They are not
gamey, but afford a lot of meat with a very satisfying
flavour.

On September 1 1, about forty miles below Green River,
we passed Black's Fork, a tributary entering from the west.
It is a stream of considerable length, but was of little
volume at that time. The banks were cliffs about 300
feet high, rugged, dark, and overhanging. Here were a

1 6 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

half dozen eagles and many old nests — proof enough,
if proof were needed, that we were in a little visited
country. What strong, splendid birds they were; how
powerful and graceful their flight as they circled up, and
up, into the clear blue sky !

Our next camp was at the Holmes' ranch, a few miles
below Black's Fork. We tried to buy some eggs of
Walter Holmes, and were told that we could have them
on one condition — that we visit him that evening.
This was a price we were only too glad to pay, and the
evening will linger long in our memories.

Mr. Holmes entertained us with stories of hunting
trips — after big game in the wilds of Colorado ; and
among the lakes of the Wind River Mountains, the
distant source of the Green River. Mrs. Holmes and
two young ladies entertained us with music ; and Jimmy,
much to our surprise, joined in with a full, rich baritone.
It was late that night when we rolled ourselves in our
blankets, on the banks twenty feet above the river.

Next morning we were shown a group of Mrs. Holmes'
pets — several young rabbits and a kitten, romping
together in the utmost good fellowship. The rabbits
had been rescued from a watery grave in an irrigation
ditch and carefully nursed back to life. We helped her
search for a lame wild duck that had spurned the offer
of a good home with civilized ducklings, and had taken
to the sage-brush. Mrs. Holmes' love of wild animals,

INTERESTING SIGHTS OF SOUTHERN WYOMING 17

however, failed to include the bald-headed eagle that
had shown such an appetite for her spring chickens.

A few miles below this ranch we passed Bridger Cross-
ing, a ford on an old trail through southern Wyoming.
In pioneer days Jim Bridger's home was on this very
spot. But those romantic days are long since past;
and where this world-famous scout once watched through
the loopholes of his barricade, was an amazed youngster
ten or eleven years old who gazed on us, then ran to the
cabin and emerged with a rifle in his hands. We thought
little of this incident at the time, but later we met the
father of the boy and were told that the children had been
left alone with the small boy as their only protector, and
that he stood ready to defend the home against any
possible marauders. No doubt we looked bad enough
to him.

Just below the ford the channel widened, and the
river became very shallow, the low rolling hills falling
away into a wide green prairie. We camped that night on
a small island, low and treeless, but covered with deep,
rank grass. Next morning our sleeping-bags were wet
with frost and dew. A hard pull against a heavy wind
between gradually deepening rocky banks made us more
than glad to pitch camp at noon a short distance above
the mouth of Henry's Fork, a considerable stream flowing
from the west. In the afternoon Emery and I decided
to walk to Linwood, lying just across the Utah line, four

1 8 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

miles up Henry's Fork. Jimmy preferred to remain
with the boats.

Between the river and a low mesa lay a large ranch of
a different appearance from those others which we had
passed. Those past were cattle ranches, with stock on
the open range, and with little ground fit for cultivation,
owing to the elevation. Here we found great, broad acres,
fenced and cultivated, with thoroughbred stock — horses
and cattle — contentedly grazing.

This pastoral scene, with a background of rugged
mountains, appealed strongly to our photographic in-
stincts. After three or four exposures, we climbed the
farthest fence and passing from alfalfa to sage-brush in
one step, were at the foot of the mesa.

Climbing to the summit, we beheld the village in the
distance, in a beautiful green valley --a splendid example
of Mormon irrigation and farming methods. Linwood
proved to be the market-place for all the ranchers of this
region. Dotting the foot-hills where water was less plen-
tiful were occasional cabins, set down in the middle of
hay ranches. All this husbandry only emphasized the
surrounding desolation. Just beyond, dark in the south-
ern sky, rose the great peaks of the Uintah range, the
mountains we were so soon to enter.

Storm-clouds had been gathering about one great snow-
covered peak, far in the distance. These clouds spread
and darkened, moving rapidly fonvard. We had taken

INTERESTING SIGHTS OF SOUTHERN WYOMING 19

the hint and were already making all possible haste tow-
ard the town,! hoping to reach it before the storm broke.
But it was useless. Long before we had gained the edge
of the valley the rain had commenced in the mountains,
— small local storms, resembling delicate violet-coloured
veils, hung in the dense pall of the clouds. There were
far flashes of lightning, and the subdued roar of distant
thunder, rapidly growing louder as the storm approached.
Unable to escape a drenching, we paused a moment to
wonder at the sight ; to marvel — and shrink a little
too — at the wild, incessant lightning. The peaks them-
selves seemed to be tumbling together, such was the
continuous roar of thunder, punctuated by frequent
deafening crashes.

Then the storm came down upon us. Such torrents
of rain we have seldom witnessed : such gusts of driving
wind ! At times we could scarcely make headway against
it, but after most strenuous effort we neared the village.
We hoped to find shelter under a bridge, but found in-
numerable muddy streams running through the planks.
So we resumed our plodding, slipping and sliding in the
black, bottomless mud.

The storm by this time had passed as quickly as it
came. Wet to our skins, we crawled into the little store
and post-office combined, and found it filled with ranch
hands, waiting for the weekly mail. We made a few
purchases, wrote some letters, then went to a large board-

20 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

ing-house near by and fortified ourselves with a generous,
hot supper.

There were comments by some of the men on our
venture, but they lacked the true Green River tang.
Here, close to the upper canyons, the unreasonable fear
of the rapids gave way to a reasonable respect for them.
Here we heard again of the two young men from St.
Louis, and the mishaps that had befallen them. Here
too we were to hear for the first time of the two Snyders,
father and son, and the misfortunes that had overtaken
them in Lodore Canyon, twenty years before. We were
to hear more of these men later.

We made what haste we could back to our boats,
soon being overtaken by a horseman, a big-hearted
Swede who insisted on carrying our load as long as we
were going in his direction. How many just such in-
stances of kindliness we were to experience on our journey
down the river ! How the West abounds with such men !
It was dark when he left us a mile from the river. Here
there was no road to follow, and we found that what had
been numerous dry gullies before were now streams of
muddy water. Two or three of these streams had to be
crossed, and we had a disagreeable half hour in a marsh.
Finally we reached the river, but not at the point where
we had left our boats. We were uncertain whether the
camp was above or below us, and called loudly for Jimmy,
but received no answer.

INTERESTING SIGHTS OF SOUTHERN WYOMING 21

Emery felt sure that camp was upstream. So up-
stream we went, keeping back of the bushes that
fringed the banks, carefully searching for a sign. After
a few minutes' hunt we heard a sound : a subdued rumble,
not unlike the distant thunder heard that afternoon, or
of boats being dragged over the pebbles. What could it
be ? We listened again, carefully this time, and dis-
covered that it came from a point about thirty feet away,
on the opposite side of the bushes. It could be only one
thing. Jimmy's snore had brought us home !

Hurriedly securing some dry clothes from the rubber
sacks, which contained our sleeping-bags as well, we made
a quick change, and slid into the beds, inflating the air
mattresses with our lungs after we were inside. Then we
lay down contentedly to rest.

CHAPTER III

THE GATEWAY OF ALL THE CANYONS

WE awoke the next morning full of anticipation.
Something new lay ahead of us, a promise of variety.
In plain sight of our camp lay the entrance to Flaming
Gorge, the gateway to the entire series of canyons.
Hurriedly finishing our camp duties, we loaded the boats,
fastened down the hatches, and shoved off into the cur-
rent, eager to be on our way.

It was cloudy overhead and looked as if we were to
have more rain. Even then it must have been raining
away to the north, for a dirty, clay-colored torrent rushed
through the dry arroyo of the night before, a stream large
enough to discolour the water of the Green itself. But we
thought little of this. We were used to seeing muddy
water in the Colorado's gorges ; in fact we were surprised
to find clear water at all, even in the Green River. Row-
ing downstream we found that the country sloped gently
towards the mountains. The river skirted the edge of
these foot-hills as if looking for a possible escape, then
turned and entered the mountain at a sharp angle. The

THE GATEWAY OF ALL THE CANYONS 23

walls sloped back considerably at first, and there was a
little shore on either side.

Somewhere near this point runs the dividing line of
Wyoming and Utah.

We considered the gateway a subject worthy of a
motion picture, if taken from the deck of the boat ; but
doubted if it would be a success owing to the condition
of the light and the motion of the boat. Still it was
considered worthy of a trial, and the film was run through.

The colour of the rocks at the entrance was a light red,
but not out of the ordinary in brilliancy. The rock
formation was stratified, but displaced; standing at an
angle and flexed over on top with a ragged break here and
there, showing plainly the great pressure to which the
rocks had been subjected. The upheaval was not violent,
the scientists tell us, but slow and even, allowing the
river to maintain its old channel, sawing its way through
the sandstone. The broken canyon walls, when well
inside the gorge, were about 600 to 700 feet high. The
mountains beyond and on either side were much higher.
The growth on the mountain sides was principally ever-
green ; Douglas fir, the bull-pine and yellow pine. There
was a species of juniper, somewhat different from the Utah
juniper, with which we were familiar at the Grand Canyon.
Bushes and undergrowth were dense above the steep
canyon walls, which were bare. Willows, alder-thickets,
and a few cottonwood trees lined the shores.

24 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

Meanwhile the current had quickened, almost imper-
ceptibly at first, but enough to put us on our guard.
While there were no rapids, use was made of what swift
water we found by practising on the method we wrould
use in making a passage through the bad rapids. As to
this method, unused as yet by either of us, we had re-
ceived careful verbal instruction from Mr. Stone, who had
made the trip two years before our own venture ; and
from other friends of Nathan Galloway, the trapper,
the man who first introduced the method on the Green
and Colorado rivers.

Our experience on water of any kind was rather
limited. Emery could row a boat, and row it well, before
we left Green River, but had never gone over any large
rapids. While he was not nearly so large or heavy as I,
— weighing no more than 130 pounds, while I weighed 170
pounds, — he made up for his lighter weight by a quick-
ness and strength that often surprised me. He was
always neat and clever in his method of handling his boat,
taking a great deal of pride in keeping it free from marks,
and avoiding rocks when making a landing. I had done
very little rowing before leaving Green River, so little
that I had difficulty in getting both oars in the water at
the same time. Of course it did not take me long to
learn that ; but I did not have the knack of making clean
landings, and bumped many rocks that my brother
missed. Still I was improving all the time and was

THE GATEWAY OF ALL THE CANYONS 25

anxious to get into the rough water, feeling sure I would
get through somehow, but doing my best in the mean-
time to get the knack of handling the boat properly before
the rough water was reached.

An occasional rock would stick up above the surface ;
the swift water would rush up on it, or drive past on either
side. Instead of pulling downstream with might and
main, and depending on a steersman with a sweep-oar
to keep us clear of obstructions — the method usually
adopted on large rivers, and by the earlier parties on the
Colorado — by our method the single oarsman reversed
his boat so that it was turned with the stern downstream,
giving the oarsman a view of what was ahead ; then by
pulling upstream the boat was held in check. We
allowed ourselves to be carried in a direct line with the
rocks ahead, approaching them as closely as we dared ;
then, with a pull on one oar, the boat was turned slightly
at an angle to the current, and swung to one side or the
other ; just as a ferry is headed into the current, the water
itself helping to force it across. The ferry is held by a
cable ; the boat, by the oarsman ; the results are quite
similar.

The boats, too, were somewhat unusual in design, hav-
ing been carefully worked out by Galloway after much ex-
perience with the problem, and after building many boats.
He finally settled on the design furnished us by Mr.
Stone. The flat bottom, sloping up from the centre to

26 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

either end, placed the boats on a pivot one might say, so
that they could be turned very quickly, much more
quickly than if they had had a keel. There was a four-
foot skag or keel under the stern end of the boat, but
this was only used when in quiet water; and as it was
never replaced after being once removed we seldom 'refer
to it. Being flat-bottomed, they drew comparatively
little water, a matter quite important on low water such
as we found in the Green River. While each boat carried
a weight of seven hundred pounds in addition to its own
five hundred pounds, they often passed over rocks less
than ten inches below the surface, and did so without
touching. While the boats were quite large, the arched
decks made them look even larger. A considerable
amount of material could be stored under these decks.
The only part of the boat that was entirely open or un-
protected from the waves was the cockpit, or mid-section
occupied by the oarsman. This was only large enough
for one man. A second man had to sit on the deck behind
the oarsman, with his feet hanging into the cockpit.
Jimmy occupied this place of honour as we drifted through
the placid water; first on one boat, then on the other,
entertaining us meanwhile with his songs.

We encountered two splashy little rapids this day,
but with no rocks, or any dangerous feature whatever.
Any method, or none at all, was safe enough in these
rapids.

THE GATEWAY OF ALL THE CANYONS 27

The colouring of the rocks changed as we proceeded,
and at the lower end of the short canyon we saw the flam-
ing patch of colour that had suggested its name to Major
Powell, forty-two years before. Intensified on that occa-
sion by the reflected light of a gorgeous sunset, it must
have been a most brilliant spectacle.

Two beavers slid into the water when we were close
beside them, then rose to the surface to stare curiously
when we had passed. We left them undisturbed. Some
geese decoyed us into an attempt to ambush them, but
they kept always just out of reach of our guns. Wise
fellows, those geese !

A geological fault accompanied by the breaking down
of the walls marks the division between Flaming Gorge
and Horseshoe Canyon, which immediately follows.
We nooned here, opposite a deserted cabin. A trail
dropped by easy stages over the slope on the east side;
and fresh tracks showed that sheep had recently been
driven down to the water's edge.

Passing through Horseshoe, — another very short
canyon, — we found deep, placid pools, and sheer, light
red walls rising about four hundred feet on either side,
then sloping back steeply to the tree-covered mountains.
In the middle of this canyon Emery was startled out of a
day-dream by a rock falling into the water close beside
him, with never a sound of warning. Years spent in the
canyons had accustomed Emery and me to such occur-

28 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

rences ; but Jimmy, unused to great gorges and towering
cliffs, was much impressed by this incident. After all,
it is only the unusual that is terrible. Jimmy was ready
enough to take his chances at dodging bricks hurled by a
San Francisco earthquake, but never got quite used to
rocks descending from a source altogether out of sight.
Small wonder, after all ! Later we were to experience
more of this thing, and on a scale to startle a stoic !

We halted at the end of Horseshoe, early in the after-
noon of September 14, 1911, one week out from Green
River City. Camp No. 6 was pitched on a gravelly
shore beside Sheep Creek, a clear sparkling stream,
coming in from the slopes of the Uintah range. Just
above us, on the west, rose three jagged cliffs, about
five hundred feet high, reminding one by their shape of the
Three Brothers of Yosemite Valley. Here, again, we were
treated to another wonderful example of geologic dis-
placement, the rocks of Horseshoe Canyon lying in level
strata ; while those of Kingfisher, which followed, were
standing on end. Sheep Creek, flowing from the west,
finds an easy course through the fault, at the division
of the canyons. The balance of this day was spent in
carefully packing our material and rearranging it in our
boats, for we expected hard work to follow.

Tempted by the rippling song of the brook, and by
tales of fish to be found therein, we spent two hours
fishing from its banks on the morning of the isth. But

THE GATEWAY OF ALL THE CANYONS 29

the foliage of overhanging trees and shrubs was dense,
making it difficult to cast our lines, or even to climb along
its shores, and our small catch of two trout, which were
fried with a strip of bacon to add flavour, only whetted our
appetites for more.

It was a little late in the season for many birds. Here
in Kingfisher Canyon were a few of the fish-catching birds
from which the canyon took its name. There were
many of the tireless cliff-swallows scattered all through
these canyons, wheeling and darting, ever on the wing.
These, with the noisy crested jays, an occasional "camp-
robber," the little nuthatches, the cheerful canyon wren
with his rollicking song, the happy water-ousel, "kill-
deer," and road-runners and the water birds, — ducks,
geese, and mud-hens, with an occasional crane, — made up
the bird life seen in the open country and in these upper
canyons. Earlier in the season it must be a bird's paradise,
for berries and seeds would then be plentiful.

We resumed our journey at 10 A.M., a very short run
bringing us to the end of Kingfisher Canyon. The three
canyons passed through approximate hardly more than
ten miles in length, different names being given for geo-
logical reasons, as they really form only one canyon.
The walls at the end were broken down, and brilliantly
tinted talus of many hues covered the slopes, the different
colours intermingling near the bottom. The canyon-walled
river turned southeast here, and continued in this gen-

30 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

eral direction for many miles, but with many twists
and turns.

We had previously been informed that Red Canyon,
the next to follow, while not considered bad when com-
pared to others, gave one the experience most necessary
to combat the rapids farther down. It was not without
danger, however, as a review of previous expeditions
showed : some had lost their lives, still others, their
boats ; and one of Major Powell's parties had upset a
boat in a Red Canyon rapid. The stage of water was
so different on these previous attempts that their experi-
ences were of little value to us one way or the other. A
reference to pictures taken by two of these parties showed
us there was considerable more water when they went
through — six, and even eight feet higher in places.
Possibly this would be the best stage on which to make
the voyage in heavy boats. The unfortunate ones had
taken the spring rise, or flood water, with disastrous
results to themselves or their boats.

We soon found that our passage was to be hard on
account of having too little water. In the quiet water
above we had been seldom bothered with shoals ; but
now that we were in swifter water, there was scarcely
any depth to it at all, except in the quiet pools between
the rapids.

For a description of our passage through this upper
end of Red Canyon we refer to our journal : sketchy

THE GATEWAY OF ALL THE CANYONS 31

notes jotted down, usually in the evening just before
retiring, by the light of a camp-fire, or the flickering flame
of a candle. Under the date of Friday, September the
1 5th, we find the following :

"End of Kingfisher: long, quiet pools and shoals
where we grounded a few times ; several small, splashy
rapids ; then a larger one near an old boat landing.
Looked the rapid over from the shore. Jim remained
at the lower end with a life-preserver on a rope, while we
ran the rapid. Struck one or two rocks, lightly ; but
made the run in safety."

" At the third rapid we saw some geese — but they
got away. At noon we ate a cold lunch and because of
the low water removed the skags, carrying them in the
cockpit. The scenery in upper Red Canyon is impres-
sive : pines and fir come down on the sloping sides to the
river's edge ; the rocks are reddish brown in colour, often
broken in squares, and looking like great building blocks
piled one upon another. The canyon is about fifteen
hundred feet deep ; the river is clear again, and averages
about two hundred feet in width. We have seen a few
deer tracks, but have not seen any deer. We also saw
some jumping trout in a splashy little rapid. Doubtless
they came from a little creek, close by, for we never heard
of trout being found in the Green River."

" We made a motion picture, while dropping our boats
down with lines, over the first rapid we considered bad.

32 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

Emery remained in the boats, keeping clear of the rocks
with a pole. Powell's second party records an upset here."
" We passed Kettle Creek about 5 P.M. In the fifth rapid
below Kettle Creek I got on the wrong side of the river
and was carried into a very rocky rapid — the worst so far
encountered. I touched a rock or two at the start,
but made the run in safety; while Emery ran the op-
posite side without trouble. We camped beside a small
stream on the south, where there were signs of an old
camp."

" Saturday, September 16. Clear and cold in the early
morning. Started about 9 A.M. Lined our boats past
a difficult rapid. Too many rocks, not enough water.
Two or three miles below this I had some difficulty in a
rapid, as the pin of a rowlock lifted out of the socket
when in the middle of rough water. Emery snapped a
picture just as it happened. A little later E. C.1 ran
a rocky rapid, but had so much trouble that we con-
cluded to line my boat. Noon. Just a cold lunch, but
with hot coffee from the vacuum bottles. Then at it
again."

" The scenery is wonderful ; the canyon is deeper than
above; the river is swift and has a decided drop. We
proceed cautiously, and make slow progress. We camp

1 The initials E. C. apply to my brother, Emery C. Kolb ; E. L. to myself. These
initials are frequently used in this text. For several years the nick-name " Ed " has
been applied to me, and in my brothers' narratives I usually figure as Ed.

THE GATEWAY OF ALL THE CANYONS 33

for the day on the north side close to a little, dry gully,
on a level sage and bunch-grass covered bottom back
from the river's edge. An abruptly descending canyon
banked with small cottonwood trees coming in from the
opposite side contains a small stream. Put up our tent
for the second time since leaving Green River, Wyoming.
We are all weary, and glad to-morrow is Sunday — a day
of rest."

" Sunday, September 77. E. C. and I follow a fresh
deer track up a game trail and get — a rabbit. Climb out
about 1300 feet above the river to the top of the
narrow canyon. Here is a sloping plateau, dotted with
bunch-grass and grease-wood, a fourth of a mile wide.
Then rounded mountains rise beyond the plateau, some
of the peaks reaching a height of 4000 feet above the river.
The opposite side is much the same, but with a wider
plateau. We had no idea before what a wonderful coun-
try this is. It is a picture to tempt an artist. High on
the mountain tops is the dark blue-green of pines and
firs, reds and yellows are mixed in the quaking aspen, —
for the frost comes early enough to catch the sap in the
leaves ; little openings, or parks with no trees, are tinted
a beautiful soft gray; 'brownstone fronts' are found in
the canyon walls ; and a very light green in the willow-
leafed cottonwoods at the river's edge, and in all side
canyons where there is a running stream. The river
glistens in the sunlight, as it winds around the base of the

34 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

wall on which we stand, and then disappears around a
bend in the canyon. Turn where we will, we see no sign
of an opening, nothing but the rounded tops of wooded
mountains, red and green, far as the eye can reach, until
they disappear in the hazy blue. Finally Emery's
keen eyes, aided by the binoculars, discover a log cabin
at the foot of a mountain, on the plateau opposite us,
about three miles away."

'' We hurry back to camp and write some letters ; then
Jim and I cross the river and climb out over the rocky
walls to the plateau above. In two hours we reach the
cabin. It is new — not yet finished. A woman and four
children are looking over a garden when we arrive. They
are a little frightened at first, but soon recover. The
woman gladly promises to take out our mail when they
go to the nearest town, which happens to be Vernal,
Utah, forty-five miles away. Three other families live
near by, all recently moved in from Vernal. The woman
tells us that Galloway hunts bear in these timbered moun-
tains, and has killed some with a price on their heads —
bear with a perverted taste for fresh beef." l

1 It is not unusual for certain individual animals to be outlawed or to have a price
set on their heads by the stockmen's associations, in addition to the regular bounty
paid by the counties. At the time this is written there is a standing reward of $200
for a certain "lobo," or timber wolf which roams over the Kaibab Forest directly
opposite our home in the Grand Canyon. In addition to this there is a bounty of #10
offered by the county. This wolf has taken to killing colts and occasional full-grown
horses, in addition to his regular diet of yearling calves.

THE GATEWAY OF ALL THE CANYONS 35

" Thanking the woman, we make our way back to the
river. We see some dried-out elk horns along our trail ;
though it is doubtful if elk get this far south at present.
A deer trail, leading down a ravine, makes our homeward
journey much easier. It has turned quite cold this
evening, after sunset. We finish our notes and prepare
to roll into our beds a little earlier than usual."

CHAPTER IV

SUSPICIOUS HOSTS

WE awoke bright and early the next morning, much
refreshed by our day of rest and variety. With an early
start we were soon pulling down the river, and noon found
us several miles below the camp, having run eleven rapids
with no particular difficulty. A reference in my notes
reads: "Last one has a thousand rocks, and we could
not miss them all. My rowing is improving, and we
both got through fairly well." In the afternoon they
continued to come — an endless succession of small rapids,
with here and there a larger one. The canyon was similar
to that at our camp above, dark red walls with occasional
pines on the ledges, — a most charming combination
of colour. At 2.30 P.M. we reached Ashley Falls, a rapid
we had been expecting to see for some time. It was a
place of singular beauty. A dozen immense rocks had
fallen from the cliff on the left, almost completely block-
ing the channel — or so it seemed from one point of view.
But there was a crooked channel, not more than twelve

SUSPICIOUS HOSTS 37

feet wide in places, through which the water shot like a
stream from a nozzle.

We wanted a motion picture of our dash through the
chute. But the location for the camera was hard to
secure, for a sheer bank of rock or low wall prevented us
from climbing out on the right side. We overcame this
by landing on a little bank at the base of the wall and by-
dropping a boat down with a line to the head of the
rapid, where a break occurred in the wall. Jimmy was
left with the camera, the boat was pulled back, and we
prepared to run the rapid.

We first had to pass between two square rocks rising
eight feet above the water so close together that we could
not use the oars ; then, when past these, pull ten feet to
the right in order to clear the large rock at the end of
the main dam, or barrier, not more than twenty feet be-
low. To pull down bow first and try to make the turn,
would mean to smash broadside against this rock. It
could only be done by dropping stern first, and pulling
to the right under the protection of the first rocks ; though
it was doubtful if even this could be accomplished, the
current was so swift. The Defiance was ready first, the
Edith was to follow as closely as safety allowed.

Almost before I knew it I was in the narrow channel,
so close to the right rock that I had to ship that oar,
and pull altogether on the left one. As soon as I was
through I made a few quick strokes, but the current was

38 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

too strong for me ; and a corner of the stern struck with
a bang when I was almost clear. She paused as a wave
rolled over the decks, then rose quickly; a side current
caught the boat, whirling it around, and the bow struck.
I was still pulling with all my might, but everything
happened so quickly, — with the boat whirling first this
way, then that, — that my efforts were almost useless.
But after that second strike I did get in a few strokes,
and pulled into the quiet pool below the line of boulders.

Emery held his boat in better position than I had done,
and it looked for a while as if he would make it. But
the Edith struck on the stern, much as mine had done.
Then he pulled clear and joined me in the shelter of the
large rock, as cool and smiling as if he had been rowing
on a mill-pond. We were delighted to find that our boats
had suffered no damage from the blows they had received.
Striking on the ends as they did, the shock was dis-
tributed throughout the whole boat.

This completed our run for that day, and we went
into camp just below the "Falls." Emery painted the
name Edith on the bow of his boat, at this camp.
The name was given in honour of his four-year-old daugh-
ter, waiting for us at the Grand Canyon. I remarked
that as no one loved me, I would name my boat the
Defiance. But I hesitated about putting this name
on the bow. I would look rather foolish, I thought, if
the Defiance should be wrecked in the first bad rapid.

SUSPICIOUS HOSTS 39

So the christening of my boat was left until such time as
she should have earned the title, although she was con-
stantly referred to as the Defiance.

We remained until noon of the following day at Ashley
Falls, exploring, repairing, and photographing this pic-
turesque spot. The canyon walls here dropped down to
beautiful, rolling foot-hills eight or nine hundred feet
high, tree covered as before but more open. The diver-
sity of rocks and hills was alluring. There was work to
be done and no pleasanter spot could be found in which
to do it. Among other things that had to be looked after
were some adjustments to the motion-picture camera —
usually referred to by us as the M. P. C. — this deli-
cate work always falling to Emery, for he alone could
do it.

There was much to interest us here. Major Powell
reported finding the name "Ashley" painted under an
overhanging rock on the left side of the river. Under-
neath was a date, rather indistinct, but found to have
been 1825, by Dellenbaugh, after carefully tracing the
career of Colonel Ashley who was responsible for the
record. Accompanied by a number of trappers, he made
the passage through this canyon at that early day. We
found a trace of the record. There were three letters —
A-s-h — the first two quite distinct, and underneath were
two black spots. It must have been pretty good paint
to leave a trace after eighty-six years !

40 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

Resuming our journey we passed into deep canyon
again, — the deepest we had found up to this time, — with
steeply sloping, verdure-covered walls about 2700 feet high.
The rapids still continued. At one rapid the remark was
made that "Two feet of water would cover two hundred
rocks so that our boats would pass over them." But we
did not have the two feet needed.

We had previously been informed that some of these
mountains were the hiding-places of men who were
"wanted" in the three states which bordered near here.
Some escaping prisoners had also been traced to the moun-
tains in this direction ; then all tracks had ceased. The
few peaceable ranchers who lived in these mountains
were much alarmed over these reports. We found one
such rancher on the plateau above the canyon, whom we
will call Johnson for convenience, --living in one of the
upper canyons. He sold us some provisions. In return
he asked us to help him swim some of his horses across
the river. He said the high water had taken out his own
boat. The horses were rounded up in a mountain-hidden
valley and driven into the water ahead of the boat.
After securing the horses, Johnson's welcome seemed to
turn to suspicion and he questioned our reasons for being
there, wanting to know what we could find in that wild
country to interest us. Johnson's sons, of whom there
were several, seemed to put in most of their time at hunt-
ing and trapping, never leaving the house without a gun.

THE ROCKS WERE DARK RED : OCCASIONAL PINES GREW ON THE LEDGES, MAKING
A CHARMING COMBINATION OF COLOUR.

SUSPICIOUS HOSTS 41

The cabin home looked like an arsenal, revolvers and guns
hanging on all the walls — even his daughters being famil-
iar with their use. Although we had been very well
treated after all, Mrs. Johnson especially having been
very kind to us, we felt just a little relieved when the
Johnson ranch was left behind. We use, in fact, a ficti-
tious name, not caring to visit on them the suspicions
we ourselves felt in return.

Another morning passed in repairing the M. P. camera,
and another afternoon's work was necessary to get us
out of the walls and the rapids of Red Canyon. But on
the evening of the 2Oth, we did get out, and pulled into
an open country known as Brown's Park, one week after
entering Flaming Gorge. It had not been very fast
travelling; but we were through, and with no mishap
more serious than a split board on the side of my boat.
Under favourable conditions, and in experienced hands,
this distance might have been covered in three days.
But meanwhile, we were gaining a lot of experience.

About the lower end of Red Canyon the river turned
directly east, paralleling the northern boundary of Utah,
and continued to flow in this general direction until it
crossed into Colorado.

On emerging from Red Canyon we spied a ranch
house or log cabin close to the river. The doors were
open and there were many tracks in the sand, so we
thought some one must be about. On approaching the

42 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

house, however, we found the place was deserted, but
with furniture, books, and pictures piled on the floor in
the utmost confusion, as if the occupants had left in a
great hurry. This surmise afterward proved to be cor-
rect ; for we learned that the rancher had been murdered
for his money, his body having been found in a boat
farther down the river. Suspicion pointed to an old
employee who had been seen lurking near the place.
He was traced to the railroad, over a hundred miles to the
north ; but made his escape and was never caught.

We found Brown's Park, once known as Brown's Hole,
to be a beautiful valley several miles in width, and
thirty-five or forty miles in length. The upper end of
the valley was rugged in places, with rocky hills two or
three hundred feet high. To the south, a few miles away,
were the mountains, a continuation of those we had come
through. We saw many cattle scattered over some of
these rocky hills, grazing on the bunch-grass. At one
place our course led us through a little canyon about
two miles long, and scarcely more than two hundred
feet deep. This was Swallow Canyon — a name suggested
by the many birds of that species which had covered the
canyon's walls with their little clay nests. The open-
ings of some of these nests were so small that it scarcely
seemed possible for a bird to enter.

The water was deep and quiet in this short canyon,
and a hard wind blowing up the stream made it difficult

SUSPICIOUS HOSTS 43

for us to gain any headway. In this case, too, the forms
of the boat were against us. With the keel removed and
with their high sides catching the wind, they were carried
back and forth like small balloons. Well, we could put
up with it for a while, for those very features would
prove most valuable in the rough-water canyons which
were to follow !

Emerging from the canyon at last, we saw a ferry
loaded with sheep crossing the stream. On the left
shore was a large corral, also filled with sheep which a
half dozen men were driving back and forth into dif-
ferent compartments. Later these men told us there
were 2400 sheep in the flock. We took their word for it,
making no attempt to count them. The foreman of
the ranch agreed to sell us some sugar and honey, —
these two articles being a welcome addition to our list
of supplies, which were beginning to show the effects
of our voracious appetites.

We found many other log cabins and ranches as we
proceeded. Some of them were deserted ; at others men
were busily engaged in cutting hay or the wild grass that
grew in the bottoms. The fragrance of new-mown hay
was in the air. Young boys and women were among
these busy workers, some of the women being seated on
large harvesters, handling the horses with as much dex-
terity as any of the men.

The entire trip through this pretty valley was full

44 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

of interest. We were hailed from the shore by some of
the hay ranchers, it being a novel sight to them to see a
river expedition. At one or two of these places we
asked the reason for the deserted ranches above, and
were given evasive answers. Finally we were told that
cattle rustlers from the mountains made it so hard for
the ranchers in the valleys that there was nothing for
them to do but get out. They told us, also, that we were
fortunate to get away from Johnson's ranch with our
valuables ! Our former host, we were told, had com-
mitted many depredations and had served one term for
cattle stealing. Officers, disguised as prospectors, had
taken employment with him and helped him kill and
skin some cattle; the skins, with their telltale brands,
having been partially burned and buried. On this
evidence he was afterwards convicted.

Our cool welcome by the Johnsons, their suspicions
of us, the sinister arsenal of guns and pistols, all was
explained ! Quite likely some of these weapons had
been trained against us by the trappers on the chance
that we were either officers of the law, or competitors
in the horse-stealing industry. For that matter we were
actually guilty of the latter count, for come to think of it,
we ourselves had helped them steal eight horses and a
colt !

The entire trip through this pretty valley was full of
interest. It was all so different from anything seen above.

SUSPICIOUS HOSTS 45

There were great bottoms that gave evidence of having
recently been overflooded, though now covered with
cottonwood trees, gorgeous in their autumn foliage. We
had often wondered where all the driftwood that floated
down the Colorado came from ; but after seeing those
unnumbered acres of cottonwoods we ceased to wonder.

There were many beaver slides on the banks ; and
in places, numberless trees had been felled by these in-
dustrious animals. On one or two occasions we narrowly
escaped splitting the sides of our boats on snags of trees
which the beavers had buried in the bottom of the stream.
We saw no beaver dams on the river; they were not
necessary, for deep, quiet pools existed everywhere in
Brown's Park. We saw two beavers in this section.
One of these rose, porpoise-like, to the top of the water,
stared at us a moment, then brought his tail down with a
resounding smack on the top of the water, and disappeared,
to enter his home by the subterranean route, no doubt.

The river was gradually losing its clear colour, for the
sand-bars were beginning to "work out," or break, mak-
ing the water quite roily. In some sections of Brown's
Park we grounded on these sand-bars, making it neces-
sary for us to get out into the water, pushing and pulling
on the boats until deeper water was reached. Sometimes
the deep water came when least expected, the sand-bars
having a disconcerting way of dropping off abruptly on
the downstream side. Jimmy stepped off the edge

46 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

of one of these hidden ledges while working with a boat,
and was for some time in no condition to appreciate our
ill-concealed mirth.

Often we would be passing along on perfectly smooth
water, when suddenly a turmoil would rise all about us,
as though a geyser had broken out below the surface.
If we happened to be directly over it, the boat would be
rocked back and forth for a while ; then all would be
peaceful again. This was most often caused by the
ledges of sand, anywhere from three to ten feet high,
breaking down or falling forward as their bases were
undermined. In a single night a bar of this kind will
work upstream for a distance of several feet ; then the
sand will be carried down with the current to lodge again
in some quiet pool, and again be carried on as before.
This action gives rise to long lines of regular waves or
swells extending for some distance down the stream.
These are usually referred to as sand-waves. These
waves increase in size in high water ; and the monotonous
thump, thump of the boat's bottom upon them is any-
thing but pleasant, especially if one is trying to make
fast time.

So, with something new at every turn, we pulled lazily
through Brown's Park, shooting at ducks and geese when
we came near them, snapping our cameras when a pic-
ture presented itself, and observing the animal life along
the stream.

SUSPICIOUS HOSTS 47

We stopped at one hay-ranch close to the Utah-Colo-
rado lineand chatted awhile with theworkers. A pleasant-
faced woman named Mrs. Chew asked us to deliver a
message at a ranch a mile or two below. Here also
was the post-office of Lodore, Colorado, located a short
distance above the canyon of the same name. Mrs.
Chew informed us that they had another ranch at the
lower end of Lodore Canyon and asked us to look them
up when we got through, remarking :

"You may have trouble, you know. Two of my sons
once tried it. They lost their boat, had to climb out,
and nearly starved before they reached home."

The post-office at the ranch, found as described,
without another home in sight, was a welcome sight to
us for several reasons. One reason was that it afforded
shelter from a heavy downpour of rain that greeted us as
we neared it, and a better reason still was, that it gave
us a chance to write and mail some letters to those who
would be most anxious to hear from us.

Among the messages we mailed was a picture post-
card of Coney Island at night. In some way this card
had slipped between the leaves of a book that I had
brought from the East. I sent it out, addressed to a
friend who would understand the joke ; writing under-
neath the picture, "We have an abundance of such scenery
here." The young woman who had charge of the office
looked at the card in amazement. It was evidentlv some-

48 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

thing new to her. She told us she had never been to the
railroad, and that her brother took the mail out on horse-
back to Steamboat, Colorado, 140 miles distant.

The rain having ceased, we returned to our boats,
pausing to admire a rainbow that arched above the
canyon in the mountains, toward which we were headed.
We remarked, jokingly, to Jimmy that this was a good
sign. He replied without smiling that he "hoped so."
Jimmy's songs had long since ceased, and we suspected
him of homesickness. With the exception of a short
visit to some friends on a large ranch, Jimmy had never
been away from his home in San Francisco. This pres-
ent experience was quite a contrast, to be sure ! We did
what we could to keep him cheered up, but with little
success. Jimmy had intimated that he would prefer
to leave at the first opportunity to reach a railroad, and
we willingly agreed to help him in every possible way.
Emery and I also agreed between ourselves that we would
not take any unnecessary risks with him ; but would
leave him out of the boats at all rapids, if there was any
passage around them.

The river had taken a sharp turn to the south soon
after passing the post-office, heading directly towards
the mountains. Camp was pitched just above the
mouth of Lodore. This twenty-mile canyon bears a
very unsavory reputation, having a descent of 425 feet
in that short distance, the greater part of the fall occurring

SUSPICIOUS HOSTS 49

in a space of twelve miles. This would mean wild water
somewhere !

We were camped on a spot recently occupied by some
engineers of the United States Conservation Department,
who had been trying to determine if it was feasible to
dam the river at this place. The plan was to flood the
whole of Brown's Park and divert the water through
the mountains by a tunnel to land suitable for cultiva-
tion, and in addition, allow the muddy water to settle and
so prevent the vast amount of silt from being washed on
down, eventually to the mouth of the Colorado. The
location seemed admirably suited for this stupendous
project. But holes drilled beside the river failed to find
bottom, as nothing but quicksand existed even at a
depth of nearly three hundred feet ; and without a strong
foundation, such a dam would be utterly useless.

CHAPTER V

THE BATTLE WITH LODORE

CAMP routine was hurriedly disposed of the next
morning, Saturday, September the 23d. Everything
was made snug beneath the hatches, except the two guns,
which were too long to go under the decks, and had to
be carried in the open cockpits. "Camp No. 13, at the
head of Lodore," as it is entered in my journal, was soon
hidden by a bend in the river. The open, sun-lit coun-
try, with its pleasant ranches and its grazing cattle, its
rolling, gray, sage-covered hills and its wild grass and cot-
tonwood-covered bottoms, was left behind, and we were
back in the realm of the rock-walled canyon, and beetle-
browed, frowning cliffs with pines and cedars clutching
at the scanty ledges.

We paused long enough to make a picture or two,
with the hope that the photographic record would give
to others some idea of the geological and scenic wonder
— said to be the greatest known example of its kind —
which lay before us. Here is an obstructing mountain
raised directly in the river's path. Yet with no deviation

THE BATTLE WITH LODORE 51

whatever the stream has cut through the very centre of
the peak ! The walls are almost sheer, especially at the
bottom, and are quite close together at the top. A mile
inside, the mountain on the left or east side of the gorge
is 2700 feet high. Geologists say that the river was here
first, and that the mountain was slowly raised in its path-
way— so slowly that the river could saw away and main-
tain its old channel. The quicksand found below the
present level would seem to indicate that the walls were
once even higher than at present, and that a subsidence
had taken place after the cutting.

The river at the entrance of this rock-walled canyon
was nothing alarming, four small rapids being passed
without event. Then a fifth was reached that looked
worse. The Edith was lined down. This was hard work,
and dangerous too, owing to the strength of the current
and the many rocks ; so I concluded that my own boat,
the Defiance, must run the rapid. Jimmy went below,
with a life-preserver on a rope. Emery stood beside the
rapid with a camera and made a picture as I shot past
him. Fortunately I got through without mishap. I
refused to upset even to please my brother.

We were beginning to think that Lodore was not so
bad after all. Rapid followed rapid in quick succession,
and all were run without trouble ; then we came to a
large one. It was Upper Disaster Falls ; so named by
Major Powell, for it was here that one of his boats was

52 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

wrecked on his first voyage of exploration. This boat
failed to make the landing above the rapid and was
carried over. She struck a rock broadside, turned around
and struck again, breaking the boat completely in two.
This boat was built of f-inch oak reenforced with bulk-
heads. When this fact is taken into consideration, some
idea may be had of the great power of these rapids. The
three men who occupied the boat saved themselves by
reaching an island a short distance below.

This all happened on a stage of water much higher than
the present one, so we did not let the occurrence influence
us one way or the other, except to make us careful to land
above the rapid. We found a very narrow channel be-
tween two submerged boulders, the water plunging and
foaming for a short distance below, over many hidden
rocks. Still, there was only one large rock near the lower
end that we greatly feared, and by careful work that
might be avoided.

The Edith went first and grazed the boulder slightly,
but no harm was done as E. C. held his boat well
in hand. I followed, and struck rocks at the same
instant on both sides of the narrow channel with my oars.
It will be remembered that we ran all these dangerous
rapids facing downstream. The effect of this was to
shoot the ends of both oars up past my face. The opera-
tor said that I made a grimace just as he took a picture
of the scrimmage.

THE BATTLE WITH LODORE 53

We landed on the island below and talked of camping
there for the night, as it was getting late ; but the island
was so rocky and inhospitable that we concluded to try
the lower part of the rapid. This had no descent like
the upper end ; but it was very shallow, and we soon
found ourselves on rocks, unable to proceed any farther.
It took an hour of hard labour to work our heavy boats
safely to the shore.

We had been hoping for a rest the next day — Sun-
day — but the island was such a disagreeable place to
camp that it seemed necessary to cross to the mainland
at least. A coil of strong, pliable wire had been included
in our material. Here was a chance to use it to advan-
tage. The stream on the left side of the island could be
waded, although it was very swift ; and we managed to
get the wire across and well fastened at both ends. Ele-
vating the wire above the water with cross-sticks, our tent
and camp material were run across on a pulley, and camp
was pitched a hundred yards below, on the left shore of
the river.

There were fitful showers in the afternoon, and we
rested from our labour, obtaining a great deal of comfort
from our tent, which was put up here for the third time
since leaving Green River City. Always, when the
weather was clear, we slept in the open.

Monday, the 25th, found us at the same camp. Hav-
ing concluded that Disaster Falls was an ideal place for

54 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

a moving picture, we sent the balance of the material
across on the pulley and wire, making a picture of the
operation ; stopping often because it continued to shower.
Between showers we resumed our work and picture making.
The picture was to have been concluded with the oper-
ation of lining the boat across. E. C. stood on the shore
about sixty feet away, working with the camera ; Jimmy
was on the island, paying out the rope ; while I waded in
the water, holding the bow of the boat as I worked her
between the rocks. Having reached the end of the rope,
I coiled it up, advising Jimmy to go up to a safe crossing
and join my brother while I proceeded with the boat.
All was going well, and I was nearing the shore, when
I found myself suddenly carried off my feet into water
beyond my depth, and drifting for the lower end of the
rapid. Meanwhile I was holding to the bow of the boat,
and calling lustily to my brother to save me. At first
he did not notice that anything was wrong, as he was
looking intently through the finder. Then he suddenly
awoke to the fact that something was amiss, and came
running down the boulder-strewn shore, but he could
not help me, as we had neglected to leave a rope with
him. Things were beginning to look pretty serious,
when the boat stopped against a rock and I found myself
once more with solid footing under me. It was too good
a picture to miss ; and I found the operator at the ma-
chine, turning the crank as I climbed out.

THE BATTLE WITH LODORE 55

We developed some films and plates that evening,
securing some satisfactory results from these tests. It
continued to rain all that night, with intermittent showers
the next morning. The rain made little difference to us,
for we were in the water much of the following day as
the boats were taken along the edge of another unrunna-
ble rapid, a good companion rapid for the one just passed.

This was Lower Disaster Falls, the first of many
similar rapids we were to see, but this was one of the
worst of its kind. The swift-rushing river found its
channel blocked by the canyon wall on the right side,
the cliff running at right angles to the course of the
stream. The river, attacking the limestones, had cut
a channel under the wall, then turned and ran with the
wall, emerging about two hundred feet below. Standing
on a rock and holding one end of a twenty-five foot
string we threw a stone attached to the other end across
to the opposite wall. The overhanging wall was within
two feet of the rushing river; a higher stage of water
would hide the cut completely from view. Think what
would happen if a boat were carried against or under
that wall ! We thought of it many times as we care-
fully worked our boats along the shore.

Between the delays of rain, with stops for picture mak-
ing, portaging our material, and "lining" our boats, we
spent almost three days in getting past the rapids called
Upper and Lower Disaster Falls, with their combined fall

56 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

of 50 feet in little more than half a mile. On the even-
ing of September the 26th we camped almost within
sight of this same place, at the base of a 3ocx>foot sugar-
loaf mountain on the right, tree-covered from top to
bottom.

Things were going too easily for us, it seemed ; but
we were in for a few reverses. It stormed much of the
night and still drizzled when we embarked on the follow-
ing morning. The narrow canyon was gloomy and dark-
ened with shreds of clouds drifting far below the rim.
The first rapid was narrow, and contained some large
boulders. The Edith was caught on one of these and
turned on her side, so that the water flowed in, filling the
cockpit. The boat was taken off without difficulty,
and bailed out. We found that the bulkheads failed
to keep the water out of the hatches. Some material
from the Edith was transferred to the Defiance. A bed,
in a protecting sack of rubber and canvas, was shoved
under the seat and we proceeded.

Less than an hour later I repeated my brother's per-
formance, but I was not so fortunate as he. The Defiance
was carried against one rock as I tried to pull clear of
another, and in an instant she was on her side, held
by the rush of water. I caught the gunwale, and, climb-
ing on to the rock that caused the disaster, I man-
aged to catch the rope and held the boat. In the
meantime Emery was in a whirlpool below, trying to

THE BATTLE WITH LODORE 57

land on the right side ; but was having a difficult
time of it. Jimmy stood on the shore unable to
help. The bed was washed out of the boat and went
bobbing over the waves, then before I knew what had
happened, the rope was jerked from my hands and I was
left stranded on my rock. Seeing this, Jimmy ran with
all his might for a pool at the end of the rapid, bravely
rescuing the boat and the bed as well, just as the Edith
was landed. A rope was soon thrown to me, after the
inevitable picture was made. Then I jumped and was
pulled to shore.

On making an inventory we found that our guns were
lost from the boat. Being too long to go under the
hatches, they had been left in the cockpit. The De-
fiance had an ugly rap on the bottom, where she
struck a rock, the wood being smashed or jammed, but not
broken out. Nearly all material in the two boats was wet,
so we took everything out and piled it on a piece of can-
vas, spread out on the sand. We worked rapidly, for
another storm had been threatening all the morning.

We were engaged in putting up our little tent when
a violent wind which swept up the canyon, followed
by a downpour of rain interrupted our work ; and if
anything missed a soaking before, it certainly received
it then. The sand was beaten into our cameras and
everything was scattered helter-skelter over the shore.
We were fortunate in only one respect. The wind was

58 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

away from the river instead of toward it. We finally
got the tent up, then threw everything into it in an indis-
criminate pile, and waited for the storm to pass. Emery
proposed that we do a song and dance just to show how
good we felt; but any appearance of merriment was
rather forced.

Had the builders of the boats been there, we fear they
w?ould have had an uncomfortable half-hour; for nearly
all this loss could have been avoided had our instruc-
tions regarding the hatch covers been followed. And
for the sake of their saving a few dollars we had to
suffer !

The rain soon passed and we went to wrork, first
starting a fire and getting a hurried lunch, for we had
not eaten our noon meal, and it was then 4 P.M. We
put up our dark-room tent, then went to work to find
what was saved, and what was lost. We were surprised
to find that all our small films and plates had escaped a
soaking. Protected in tin and cardboard boxes, wrapped
with adhesive tape, and covered with a coating of paraf-
fine melted and poured over them, they had turned the
water in nearly every instance. The motion-picture
film was not so fortunate. The paraffine had worn off the
tin boxes in spots, the water soaked through the tape
in some instances, and entered to the film. One
roll, tightly wrapped, became wet on the edges ; the
gelatine swelled and stuck to the other film, thus seal-

THE BATTLE WITH LODORE 59

ing the inner portion or picture part of the film, so that
roll was saved.

The motion-picture camera was filled with water,
mud, and sand ; and the other cameras fared likewise.
We cleaned them out as best we could, drying them over
a small alcohol lamp which we had included in our duffle.
Our job seemed endless. Jimmy had retired early, for
he could help us but little in this work. It rained again
in torrents, and the wind howled about the tent. After
midnight, as we still toiled, a land-slide, loosened by the
soaking rains, thundered down the mountain side about
a fourth of a mile below our camp. We hoped Jimmy
would not hear it. We retired soon after this. Smaller
slides followed at intervals, descending over the 3000-
foot precipices. Thunder reverberated through the can-
yon, and altogether it was a night long to be remembered.
These slides made one feel a little uncomfortable. "It
would be most inconvenient," as we have heard some one
say, "to wake in the morning and find ourselves wrapped
up in a few tons of earth and rock."

Emery woke me the next morning to report that
the river had risen about six feet ; and that my boat —
rolled out on the sand but left untied — was just on the
point of going out with the water. It had proven for-
tunate for us all Emery was a light sleeper ! There was
no travelling this day, as the boat had to be repaired.
Emery, being the ship's carpenter, set to work at once,

60 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

while Jimmy and I stretched our ropes back and forth,
and hung up the wet clothes. Then we built a number of
fires underneath and soon had our belongings in a steam.
Things were beginning to look cheerful again. The rain
stopped, too, for a time at least.

A little later Jimmy ran into camp with a fish which
he had caught with his hands. It was of the kind com-
monly called the bony-tail or humpback or buffalo-fish,
a peculiar species found in many of the rivers of the
Southwest. It is distinguished by a small flat head,
with a hump directly behind it ; the end of the body being
round, very slender, and equipped with large tail-fins.
This specimen was about sixteen inches long, the usual
length for a full-grown fish of this species.

Now for a fish story ! On going down to the river
we found a great many fish swimming in a small whirl-
pool, evidently trying to escape from the thick, slimy mud
which was carried in the water. In a half-hour we
secured fourteen fish, killing most of them with our oars.
There were suckers and one catfish in the lot. You can
judge for yourself how thick the water was, that such
mudfishes as these should have been choked to helpless-
ness. Our captured fish were given a bath in a bucket
of rain-water, and we had a fish dinner.

In the afternoon we made a test of the water from the
river, and found that it contained 20 per cent of an
alkaline silt. When we had to use this water, we bruised

THE BATTLE WITH LODORE 6l

the leaf of a prickly pear cactus, and placed it in a bucket
of water. This method, repeated two or three times,
usually clears the muddiest water. We also dug holes
in the sand at the side of the river. The water, filtering
through the sand, was often clear enough to develop the
tests we made with our films.

Jimmy continued to feel downhearted; and this
afternoon he told us his story. Our surmise about his
being homesick was correct, but it was a little more than
that. He had an invalid mother, it seemed, and, aided
by an older brother, he had always looked after the needs
of the family. When the proposition of making the
river trip came up, serious objections were raised by the
family ; but when the transportation arrived he had de-
termined to go, in spite of their objections. Now he feared
that his mother would not live, or that we would be
wrecked, and he would not know where to turn, or what
to do. No wonder he felt blue !

All we could do was to promise to help him leave the
river at the very first opportunity. This would quite
likely be at Jensen, Utah, still fifty miles farther down-
stream.

It continued to rain by spells that night and the next
morning. About n A.M. we resumed our work on the
river. A short distance below our camp we saw the
land-slide which we heard the night before — tons of earth
and shattered rock wrapped about the split and stripped

62 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

trunks of a half-dozen pines. The slide was started
by the dislodged section of a sheer wall close to the top
of the 27OO-foot cliff. We also saw a boat of crude con-
struction, pulled above the high-water mark ; evidently
abandoned a great while before. Any person who had to
climb the walls at that place had a hard job to tackle, al-
though we could pick out breaks where it looked feasible ;
there were a few places behind us where it would be next to
impossible. We had only gone over a few rapids when we
found a long pool, with driftwood eddying upstream, and
knew that our run for the day was over — the Triplet
Rapids were ahead of us. We found this rapid to be
about a fourth of a mile long, divided into three sections
as its name indicated, and filled with great boulders at
the base of a sheer cliff on the right — another unrunnable
rapid.

Taking the camp material from the boats, we carried
it down and pitched our tent first of all, then, while Emery
prepared supper, Jimmy and I carried the remaining
dufHe down to camp. One of the boats was lined down
also. Then after supper we enjoyed the first rest we had
taken for some time.

Camp Ideal we called it, and it well deserved the
name. At the bottom of a tree-covered precipice reach-
ing a height of 2700 feet, was a strip of firm, level sand,
tapering off with a slope down to the water, making a
perfect landing and dooryard. A great mass of driftwood,

THE BATTLE WITH LODORE 63

piled up at the end of the rapid, furnished us with all
the fuel we needed with small effort on our part. Our
tent was backed against a large rock, while other flat
rocks near at hand made convenient shelves on which to
lay our camp dishes and kettles. It started to drizzle
again that night, but what cared we ? With a roaring
fire in front of the tent we all cleaned up for a change,
sewed patches on our tattered garments, and, sitting on
our beds, wrote the day's happenings in our journals.
Then we crawled into our comfortable beds, and I was
soon dreaming of my boyhood days when I "played
hookey" from school and went fishing in a creek that
emptied into the Allegheny River, or climbed its rocky
banks; to be awakened by Jimmy crying out in his
sleep,

"There she goes over the rapids."

Jimmy was soon informed that he and the boats were
perfectly safe, and I was brought back to a realization
of the fact that I was not going to get a "whaling" for
going swimming in dog-days ; but instead was holed up
in Lodore Canyon, in the extreme northwestern corner
of Colorado.

CHAPTER VI

HELL'S HALF MILE

WE began our work the next morning where we left
off the night before by bringing the remaining boat
down along the edge of the "Triplets." Then, while
Emery cooked the breakfast, Jimmy and I "broke camp."
The beds came first. The air had been released from the
mattresses before we got up, — one way of saving time.
A change of dry clothing was placed with each bed, and
they were rolled as tightly as the two of us could do it,
after which they were strapped, placed in a rubber sack,
with a canvas sack over that, both these sacks being
laced at the top. The tent — one of those so-called
balloon silk compositions -- made a very small roll;
the dark-room tent, with its three plies of cloth, made
the largest bundle of the lot. Everything had been
taken from the boats, and made quite a pile of dunnage,
when it was all collected in a pile ready for loading.
After the dishes were washed they were packed in a box,
the smoke-covered pots and pans being placed in a sack.
Everything was sorted and piled before the loading

HELL'S HALF MILE 65

commenced. An equal division of nearly everything
was made, so that the loss of one boat and its cargo
would only partially cripple the expedition. The photo-
graphic plates and films, in protecting canvas sacks,
were first disposed of, being stored in the tin-lined hatches
in the bow of the boats. Two of the smaller rolls con-
taining bedding, or clothing; a sack of flour, and half of
the cameras completed the loads for the forward com-
partments. Five or six tin and wooden boxes, filled with
provisions, went into the large compartments under the
stern. A box containing tools and hardware for the
inevitable repairs, and the weightier provisions — such
as canned milk and canned meats — went in first.
This served as ballast for the boats. Then the other
provisions followed, the remaining rolls of bedding and
tents being squeezed in on top. This compartment,
with careful packing, would hold as much as two ordinary-
sized trunks, but squeezing it all in through the small
hatchway, or opening on top, was not an easy job. One
thing we guarded very carefully from this time on was a
waterproofed sack containing sugar. The muddy water
had entered the top of this sack in our upset, and a
liquefied sugar, or brown-coloured syrup, was used in our
coffee and on our breakfast foods after that. It gradu-
ally dried out, and our emptied cups would contain a
sediment of mud in the bottom.

Such was our morning routine, although it was not

66 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

often that everything was taken from the boats, and it
only happened in this case because we made a portage
the night before.

Our work was all undone an hour later, when we came
to the sharp descent known as Hell's Half Mile. A
section of a cliff had fallen from above, and was shat-
tered into a hundred fragments, large and small ; gigantic
rocks were scattered on both shores and through the
river bed, not an orderly array of rocks such as that
found at Ashley Falls, but a riotous mass, looking as
though they had been hurled from the sky above. The
stripped trunk of an eight-foot tree, with roots extend-
ing over the river, had been deposited by a recent flood
on top of the principal barrier. All this was found about
fifty yards below the beginning of the most violent de-
scent in Lodore Canyon. It would have been difficult
enough without this last complication ; the barrier
seemed next to insurmountable, tired and handicapped
with heavy boats as we were.

With a weary sigh we dropped our boats to the head
of the rapid and prepared to make the portage. Our
previous work was as nothing to this. Rounded lime-
stone boulders, hard as flint and covered with a thin
slime of mud from the recent rise, caused us to slip
and fall many times. Then we dragged ourselves and
loads up the sloping walls. They were cut with gul-
lies from the recent rains ; low scraggy cedars caught

HELL'S HALF MILE 67

at our loads, or tore our clothes, as we staggered along ;
the muddy earth stuck to our shoes, or caused our feet
to slip from under us as we climbed, first two or three
hundred feet above the water, then close to the river's
edge. Three-fourths of a mile of such work brought us
to a level place below the rapid. It took nine loads to
empty one boat.

Darkness came on before our boats were emptied, so
they were securely tied in quiet water at the head of
the rapid, and left for the morning.

The next day found Emery and me at work on the
boats, while Jimmy was stationed on the shore with the
motion-picture camera. This wild scene, with its score
of shooting currents, was too good a view to miss. With
life-preservers inflated and adjusted, Emery sat in the
boat at the oars, pulling against the current, lessening
the velocity with which the boat was carried down tow-
ard the main barrier, while I followed on the shore,
holding a rope, and dropped him down, a little at a time,
until the water became too rough and the rocks too nu-
merous. All directions were given with signals ; the human
voice was of little avail in the turmoil. We kept the
boats in the water as long as it was safe to do so, for it
greatly lessened the hard work of a portage. With one
end of the boat floating on the water, an ordinary lift
would take the other end over a rock with insufficient
water above it to float the boat. Then the boat was

68 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

balanced on the rock, the opposite end was lifted, she
was shoved forward and dropped in the water again,
and another threatening rock was passed. Foot by foot
we fought our way, now on the shore, now waist deep in
the water below some protecting boulder, threatened
every moment by the whirling water that struggled to
drag us into the torrent. The sand and water collecting
in our clothes weighted us down ; the chill of standing in
the cold water numbed our limbs. Finally the barrier
was reached and the boats were run out close to the end,
and tied in a quiet pool, while we devised some method
of getting them past or over this obstruction.

Directly underneath and beyond the roots of the tree
were large rounded boulders, covered with slippery mud.
Past this barrier the full force of the water raced, to hurl
itself and divide its current against another rock. It
was useless to try to take a boat around the end of the
rock. The boat's sides, three-eighths of an inch thick,
would be crushed like a cardboard box. If lifted into
the V-shaped groove, the weight of the boats would wedge
them and crush their sides. Fortunately an upright
log was found tightly wedged between these boulders.
A strong limb, with one end resting on a rock opposite,
was nailed to this log; a triangle of stout sticks, with
the point down, was placed opposite this first limb, on
the same level, and was fastened to the upright log with
still another piece ; and another difficulty was overcome.

HELL'S HALF MILE 69

With a short rope fastened to the iron bar or hand-
hold on the stern, this end was lifted on to the cross-piece,
the bow sticking into the water at a sharp angle. The
short rope was tied to the stump, so we would not lose
what we had gained. The longer rope from the bow was
thrown over the roots of the tree above, then we both
pulled on the rope, until finally the bow was on a level
with the stern. She was pulled forward, the ropes were
loosened and the boat rested on the cross-pieces. The
motion-picture camera was transferred so as to command
a view of the lower side of the barrier, then the boat was
carefully tilted, and slid forward, a little at a time, until
she finally gained headway, nearly jerking the rope from
our hands, and shot into the pool below.

We enjoyed the wildest ride we had experienced up
to this time in running the lower end of this rapid. The
balance of the day was spent in the same camp below
the rapid. Our tent was put up in a group of box elder
trees, --the first trees- of this species we had seen. Red
cedar trees dotted the rocky slopes, while the larger
pines became scarce at the river's edge, and gathered
near the top of the canyon's walls. The dark red rocks
near the bottom were covered with a light blue-tinted
stratum of limestone, similar to the fallen rocks found
in the rapid above. In one land-slide, evidently struck
with some rolling rock, lay the body of a small deer.
We saw many mountain sheep tracks, but failed to see

70 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

the sheep. Many dead fish, their gills filled with the
slimy mud from the recent rise, floated past us, or lay
half buried in the mud. These things were noticed as
we went about our duties, for we were too weary to do
any exploring.

The next morning, Monday, October the 2d, saw
us making arrangements for the final run that would
take us out of Lodore Canyon. No doubt it was a beau-
tiful and a wonderful place, but none of us seemed sorry
to leave it behind. For ten days we had not had a single
day entirely free from rain, and instead of having a chance
to run rapids, it seemed as if we had spent an entire week
in carrying our loads, or in lining our boats through the
canyon. The canyon walls lost much of their pre-
cipitous character as we neared the end of the canyon.

A short run took us over the few rapids that remained,
and at a turn ahead we saw a 3OO-foot ridge, brilliantly
tinted in many colours, — light and golden yellows, orange
and red, purple and lavender, — and composed of number-
less wafer-like layers of rock, uptilted, so that the broken
ends looked like the spines of a gigantic fish's back.
A sharp turn to the left soon brought us to the end of this
ridge, close to the bottom of a smooth, sheer wall. Across
a wide, level point of sand we could see a large stream,
the Yampa River, flowing from the East to join its waters
with those of the Green. This was the end of Lodore
Canyon.

CHAPTER VII

JIMMY GOES OVER THE MOUNTAIN

THE Yampa, or Bear River, was a welcome sight to
us in spite of its disagreeable whitish yellow, clay colour ;
quite different from the red water of the Green River.
The new stream meant more water in the channel, some-
thing we needed badly, as our past tribulations showed.
The recent rise on the Green had subsided a little, but
we now had a much higher stage than when we entered
Lodore. Quite likely the new conditions gave us six
feet of water above the low water on which we had been
travelling. Would it increase or diminish our dangers ?
We were willing, Emery and I, even anxious, to risk our
chances on the higher water.

Directly opposite the Yampa, the right shore of the
Green went up sheer about 700 feet high, indeed it seemed
to overhang a trifle. This had been named Echo Cliffs
by Powell's party. The cliffs gave a remarkable echo,
repeating seven words plainly when shouted from the
edge of the Yampa a hundred yards away, and would
doubtless repeat more if shouted from the farther shore

72 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

of the Yampa. Echo Cliffs, we found, were in the form
of a peninsula and terminated just below this point where
we stood, the river doubling back on the other side of the
cliff. On the left side of the river, the walls fell back,
leaving a flat, level space of about twenty-five acres.
Here was a little ranch of which Mrs. Chew had told us.
The Chew ranch lay back from the river on top of the
cliffs. We found no one at home here at this first ranch,
but there was evidence of recent habitation. There were
a few peach trees, and a small garden, while beyond this
were two buildings, — little shacks in a dilapidated
condition. The doors were off their hinges and leaned
against the building, a few logs being placed against the
doors. Past the dooryard, coming out of a small canyon
above the ranch, ran a little brook ; up this canyon was
a trail, the outlet to the ranch above. We camped near
the mouth of the stream.

It had been agreed upon the night before, that we
should endeavour to make arrangements to have Jimmy
taken out on horseback over the mountains. Before
looking for the ranch, however, we asked him if he did not
wish to reconsider his decision to leave here. We pointed
out that Jensen, Utah, was only fifty miles away, half that
distance being in quiet water, and that the worst canyon
was behind us. But he said he had enough of the river,
and preferred to see what could be done. While I busied
myself about camp, he and Emery left for the ranch.

JIMMY GOES OVER THE MOUNTAIN 73

About seven o'clock that evening they returned in
great spirits. They had found the ranch without any
trouble, nearly three miles from our camp. Mrs. Chew
was there and gave them a hearty welcome. She had
often wondered what had become of us. She invited
the boys to remain for supper, which they did. They
talked over the matter of transportation for Jimmy.
As luck would have it, Mrs. Chew was going to drive
over to Jensen, and Vernal, Utah, in two days' time, and
agreed to take Jimmy along.

Early the next morning two boys, one about fourteen
years old the other a little older, rode down from the
ranch. Some of their horses were pastured across the
river and they had come after these. After a short
visit they got into the Edith with Emery and prepared to
cross over to the pasture, which was a mile or more down-
stream. They were soon out of our sight. Jimmy and I
remained at the camp, taking pictures, packing his
belongings, and finding many odd jobs to be done. In
about three hours the boys returned with their horses.
The horses were quite gentle, and they had no difficulty
in swimming them across. A young colt, too feeble to
swim, placed its fore feet on its mother's flanks and was
ferried across in that way. Then they were driven over
a narrow trail skirting the cliff, 300 feet above the river.
No one, looking from the river, would have imagined that
any trail, over which horses could be driven, existed.

74 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

The boys informed us that we were expected at the
ranch for dinner, and would listen to no refusal, so up
we went, although we would have to make a second trip
that day. The view of the ranch was another of those
wonderful scenic changes which we were to meet with
everywhere in this region. The flat on which we stood
was simply a pocket, shut in by the round-domed moun-
tains, with a pass, or an opening, to the east side. A
small stream ran down a mountain side, spreading over
the rocks, and glistening in the sunlight. This same
stream passed the ranch, and ran on down through the
narrow canyon up which we had come. The ranch itself
was refreshing. The buildings were new, some were
under construction; but there was considerable ground
under cultivation. Cattle were scattered up the valley,
or dotted the rocky slopes below the mountains. A wild
spot this, on the borderland of the three states. None but
people of fortitude, or even of daring, would think of
taking up a homestead in this secluded spot. The
same rumours of the escaped prisoners had drifted in here.
It was Mr. Chew who gave us the information we have
previously quoted concerning the murdered man. He had
found the body in the boat, in front of the post-office.
He further stated that others in the mountains would not
hesitate at anything to drive out those who were trying
to improve a homestead as he was doing, and that it was
a common event to find the carcasses of his own horses

JIMMY GOES OVER THE MOUNTAIN 75

or cattle which had been ruthlessly slaughtered. This
was the reason for putting the horses across the river.
There they were safe, for none could approach them save
by going past the ranch, or coming through Lodore
Canyon.

Mr. Chew also told us of the Snyders, who had lost
their boat in upper Lodore Canyon, and of how he had
given them a horse and provisions to aid them in reaching
the settlements. This did not prevent the elder Snyder
from coming back to trap the next year, much to Mr.
Chew's disgust. He thought one experience should be
enough for any man.

While we were talking, a very old, bearded man rode in
on a horse. He was Pat Lynch, the owner of the little
ranch by the river. He was a real old-timer, having
been in Brown's Park when Major Powell was surveying
that section of the country. He told us that he had
been hired to get some meat for the party, and had killed
five mountain sheep. He was so old that he scarcely
knew what he was talking about, rambling from one
subject to another ; and would have us listening with im-
patience to hear the end of some wonderful tale of the
early days, when he would suddenly switch off on to an
entirely different subject, leaving the first unfinished.

In spite of his years he was quite active, having broken
the horse on which he rode, bareback, without assistance.
We were told that he placed a spring or trap gun in his

76 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

houses at the river, ready to greet any prying marauder.
The last we saw of him he was on his way to the post-
office, miles away, to draw his pension for service in the
Civil War.

Returning to the transportation of Jimmy, it was
settled that the Chews were to leave early the next morning.
They also agreed to take out our exposed films and plates
for us — something we had not counted on, but too good
a chance to lose. We all three returned to the boats and
packed the stuff that was to go out ; then went back to
the ranch with Jimmy. It was late — after midnight —
when we reached there, and we did not disturb any one.
Jimmy's blankets were unrolled in the wagon, so there
would be no question about his going out. He was to
go to Jensen, or Vernal, and there await us, keeping our
films until we arrived. We knew they were in good hands.
It was with some difficulty that we found our way back
to our camp. The trail was difficult and it was pitch
dark. My boat had been taken down to where Emery
left the Edith when the horses were driven across, and this
extra distance was added to our walk.

We were laggard the next morning, and in no hurry
to resume our work. We rearranged our loads in the
boats ; with one less man and considerable less baggage
as well, they were lighter by far. Our chances looked
much more favourable for an easier passage. Not only
were these things in our favour, but in addition we felt

JIMMY GOES OVER THE MOUNTAIN 77

that we had served our apprenticeship at navigation in
rapid water, and we were just as capable of meeting the
rapids to follow as if we had years of experience to our
record. On summing up we found that the river had
dropped icoo feet since leaving Green River, Wyoming,
and that 5000 feet remained, to put us on a level with
the ocean. Our difficulties would depend, of course,
on how this fall was distributed. Most of the fall behind
was found in Lodore and Red canyons. It was doubtful
indeed if any section would have a more rapid fall than
Lodore Canyon.

There is a certain verse of wisdom which says that
Pride goeth before a fall," but perhaps it was just as
well for us if we were a little bit elated by our past achieve-
ments as long as we had to go through with the balance
of our self-imposed task. Confidence, in a proper degree
is a great help when real difficulties have to be surmounted'
We were full of confidence that day when we pulled away
about noon into Whirlpool Canyon, Whirlpool Canyon
being next on the list. The camp we were about to leave
was directly opposite Lodore Canyon, where it ran against
the upended cliff. The gorgeous colours were the same
as those on the opposite side, and, to a certain degree, were
also found in Whirlpool Canyon.

Our two and a half hours' dash through the fourteen
miles of rapid water in Whirlpool Canyon put us in a
joyful frame of mind. Rapid after rapid was left behind

78 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

us without a pause in our rowing, with only a hasty
survey standing on the deck of the boats before going
over. Others that were free from rocks were rowed into
bow first, the big waves breaking over our boats and our-
selves. We bailed while drifting in the quiet stretches,
then got ready for the next rapids. Two large rapids
only were looked over from the shore and these were run
in the same manner. We could hardly believe it was true
when we emerged from the mountain so quickly into a
little flat park or valley sheltered in the hills. This was
Island or Rainbow Park, the latter name being suggested
by the brilliant colouring of the rocks, in the mountains
to our left. Perhaps the form of the rocks themselves
helped a little, for here was one end of the rainbow of rock
which began on the other side of the mountains. Jagged-
edged canyons looking almost as if their sides had been
rent asunder came out of these mountains. There was
very little dark red here except away on top, 2300 feet
above, where a covering of pines made a soft background
for light-cream and gorgeous yellow-coloured pinnacles, or
rocky walls of pink and purple and delicate shades of
various hues. Large cottonwoods appeared again along
the river banks, in brilliant autumn colours, adding to
the beauties of the scene. Back from the river, to the
west, stretched the level park, well covered with bunch-
grass on which some cattle grazed, an occasional small
prickly pear cactus, and the ever present, pungent sage.

JIMMY GOES OVER THE MOUNTAIN 79

Verdure-covered islands dotted the course of the stream,
which was quiet and sluggish, doubling back and forth
like a serpent over many a useless mile. Nine miles of
rowing brought us back to a point about three miles
from the mouth of Whirlpool Canyon ; where the river
again enters the mountain, deliberately choosing this
course to one, unobstructed for several miles, to the
right.

The next gorge was Split Mountain Canyon, so
named because the stream divided the ridge length-
wise, from one end to the other. It was short, only nine
miles long, with a depth of 2700 feet in the centre of the
canyon. Three miles of the nine were put behind us
before we camped that evening. These were run in
the same manner as the rapids of Whirlpool, scarcely
pausing to look them over, but these rapids were bigger,
much bigger. One we thought was just formed or at
least increased in size by a great slide of rock that had
fallen since the recent rains. We just escaped trouble in
this rapid, both boats going over a large rock with a
great cresting wave below, and followed by a very rough
rapid. Emery was standing on top of a fifteen-foot
rock below the rapid when I went over, and for a few
moments could see nothing of my boat, hardly believing
it possible that I had come through without a scratch.
These rapids with the high water looked more like rapids
we had seen in the Grand Canyon, and were very unlike

80 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

the shallow water of a week previous. We had only
travelled a half day, but felt as if it had been a very com-
plete day when we camped at the foot of a rock slide on
the right, just above another big rapid.

On Thursday, October 5, Camp No. 20 was left
behind. The rapid below the camp was big, big enough
for a moving picture, so we took each other in turns as
we ran the rapid. More rapids followed, but these were
not so large. A few sharp-pointed spires of tinted rock
lifted above us a thousand feet or more. Framed in
with the branches of the near-by cottonwood trees, they
made a charming picture. Less than three hours brought
us to the end of Split Mountain Canyon, and the last
bad water we were to have for some time. Just before
leaving the canyon, we came to some curious grottos, or
alcoves, under the rock walls on the left shore. The river
has cut into these until they overhang, some of them
twenty-five feet or over. In one of these was a beaver
lying on a pile of floating sticks. Although we passed
quite close, the beaver never moved, and we did not
molest it.

Another shower greeted us as we emerged into the
Uinta Valley as it is called by the Ute Indians. This
valley is eighty-seven miles long. It did not have the
fertileness of Brown's Park, being raised in bare rolling
hills, runnelled and gullied by the elements. The water
was quiet here, and hard rowing was necessary to make

JIMMY GOES OVER THE MOUNTAIN 8l

any progress. We had gone about seven miles when we
spied a large placer dredge close to the river. To the
uninitiated this dredge would look much like a dredging
steamboat out of water, but digging its own channel,
which is what it really does.

Great beds of gravel lay on either side of the river and
placer gold in large or small quantities, but usually the
latter is likely to exist in these beds. When a dredge
like the one found here is to be installed, an opening is
made in the river's bank leading to an excavation which
has been made, then a large flatboat is floated in this.
The dredging machinery is on this float, as well as most of
the machinery through which the gravel is passed ac-
companied by a stream of water ; then with quicksilver
and rockers of various designs, the gold is separated from
the gravel and sand.

Numerous small buildings were standing near the
dredge, but the buildings were empty, and the dredge
lay idle. We saw many fresh tracks of men and horses
and were welcomed by a sleek, well-fed cat, but found the
place was deserted. All buildings were open and in one
was a telephone. We were anxious to hear just where
we were, so we used the telephone and explained what
we wanted to know. The "Central" informed us that
we were about nine miles from Jensen, so we returned
to the boats and pulled with a will through a land that
was no longer barren, but with cozy ranch houses, sur-

82 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

rounded by rows of stately poplars, bending with the
wind, for it was storming in earnest now. About six
o'clock that evening we caught sight of the top of the
Jensen bridge ; then, as we neared the village, the sun
broke through the pall of cloud and mist, and a rainbow
appeared in the sky above, and was mirrored in the
swollen stream, rainbow and replica combined nearly
completing the wondrous arc. There was a small inn
beside the bridge, and arrangements were made for
staying there that night. We were told that Jim and
Mrs. Chew had passed through Jensen about four hours
before we arrived. They had left word that they would
go on through to Vernal, fifteen miles distant from the
river.

CHAPTER VIII

AN INLAND EXCURSION

JENSEN was a small village with two stores and a
post-office. A few scattered houses completed the village
proper, but prosperous-looking ranches spread out on the
lowland for two or three miles in all directions on the
west side of the river. Avenues of poplar trees, fruit
trees, and fields of alfalfa gave these ranches a different
appearance from any others we had passed.

We found some mail awaiting us at the post-office,
and were soon busily engaged in reading the news from
home. We conversed awhile with the few people at
the hotel, then retired, but first made arrangements for
saddle horses for the ride to Vernal.

Next morning we found two spirited animals, saddled
and waiting for us. We had some misgivings concerning
these horses, but were assured that they were "all right."
A group of grinning cowboys and ranch hands craning
their necks from a barn, a hundred yards distant, rather
inclined us to think that perhaps our informant might
be mistaken. Nothing is more amusing to these men of

84 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

the range than to see a man thrown from his horse, and
a horse that is "all right" for one of them might be
anything else to persons such as we who never rode
anything except gentle horses, and rode those indifferently.
We mounted quickly though, trying to appear uncon-
cerned. The horses, much to our relief, behaved quite
well, Emery's mount rearing back on his hind legs,
but not bucking. After that, all went smoothly.

Leaving the irrigated ranches on the bottom lands,
we ascended a low, rolling mesa, composed of gravel and
clay, unwatered and unfertile, from which we caught
occasional glimpses of the mountains and the gorge from
which we had emerged, their brilliant colours softened
and beautified by that swimming blue haze which belongs
to this plateau region. Then we rode down into the
beautiful Ashley Valley, watered by Ashley Creek, a
good-sized stream even after it was used to irrigate all
the country for miles above. The valley was several
miles wide. The stream emptied into the river about a
mile below Jensen. All parts of the valley were under
cultivation. It is famous for its splendid deciduous
fruits, apples, pears, peaches ; splendid both in ap-
pearance and flavour. It excelled not only in fruits,
however, but in all products of the field as well. "Vernal
honey, " which is marketed far and near, has a reputation
for fine flavour wherever it is known. A thick growth of
the bee-blossom or bee-weed crowded the road sides and

EACH BED WAS PLACED IN A RUBBER AND A CANVAS SACK. PHOTO TAKEN

IN MARBLE CANYON.

AN INLAND EXCURSION 85

hugged the fences. The fragrance of the flower can
easily be noticed in the sweetness of the honey. The
pity of it was that bushels of fruit lay rotting on the
ground, for there were no transportation facilities, the
nearest railroad being 90 miles distant. There were
stock ranches too, with blooded stock in the fence-en-
closed fields. Some of the splendid horses paced along
beside us on the other side of the fence. We heard the
rippling song of some meadow-larks this day, the only birds
of this species we remember having seen on the Western
plateaus.

All these ranches were laid out in true Mormon style,
that is, squared off in sections, fenced, and planted with
shade-trees before being worked. The roads are usually
wide and the streets exceptionally so. Except in the
business streets, a large garden usually surrounds the
home building, each family endeavouring to raise all their
own vegetables, fruits, and poultry. They usually suc-
ceed.

The shade trees about Vernal were Lombardy poplars.
They attained a height that would give ample shade under
most conditions, and too much when we were there, for
the roads were very muddy, although they had dried in
all other sections. Nearing Vernal, we passed Nathan
Galloway's home, a cozy place set back some distance
from the road. We had hoped to meet Galloway and
have an opportunity of talking over his experiences with

86 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

him, but found he was absent on a hunting trip, in fact
was up in the mountains we had come through.

On nearing the town we were greeted by a busy
scene. Numerous wagons and horses stood in squares
reserved for that purpose, or were tied to hitching posts
in front of the many stores. Ranchers and their families
were everywhere in evidence ; there were numerous
prospectors in their high-topped boots just returning
from the mountains, and oil men in similar garb, muddy
from head to foot. Later we learned that oil had recently
been discovered about forty miles distant, this fact
accounting for much of the activity.

The town itself was a surprise ; we found it to be very
much up-to-date considering its isolated position. Two
of the streets were paved and oiled and were supplied with
drinking fountains. There were two prosperous looking
banks, two well-stocked and up-to-date drug stores,
several mercantile stores, and many others, all busy.
Many of the buildings were of brick ; all were substantial.

Near a hotel we observed a group of men surrounding
some one who was evidently keeping them interested.
On approaching them we found it was Jimmy, giving a
graphic description of some of our difficulties. His
story was not finished, for he saw us and ran to greet us,
as pleased to see us as we were to see him. He had
little idea we would be along for two or three days and
naturally was much surprised.

AN INLAND EXCURSION 87

On entering the hotel we were greeted by an old Grand
Canyon friend, a civil engineer named Duff, who with a
crew of men had been mapping the mountains near Whirl-
pool Canyon. You can imagine that it was a gratifying
surprise to all concerned to find we were not altogether
among strangers, though they were as hospitable as
strangers could be. The hotel was a lively place that night.
There was some musical talent among Duff's men, and
Duff himself was an artist on the piano. Many of the
young people of the town had dropped in that evening,
as some one had passed the word that there might be an
impromptu entertainment at the hotel. There was.
Duff played and the boys sang. Jimmy was himself
again and added his rich baritone. The town itself was
not without musical talent, and altogether it was a restful
change for us.

Perhaps we should have felt even better if we had been
dressed differently, for we wore much the same clothes as
those in which we did our work on the river — a woollen
shirt and overalls. Besides, neither Emery nor I had
shaved since starting, and it is quite likely that we looked
just a little uncouth. Appearances count for little with
these people in the little-settled districts, and it is a
common enough sight to them to see men dressed as we
were. They did everything they could to make us feel
at ease. As one person remarked,

"The wealthiest cattle man, or the owner of the richest

88 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

mine in the country, usually looks worse than all others
after a month on the range or in the hills."

If wealth were indicated on an inverse ratio to one's
good appearance, we should have been very wealthy in-
deed. We felt as if it would take us a week to get rested,
and lost little time in getting to bed when the party
broke up. We imagine most of the residents of Vernal
were Mormons. It is part of their creed to give " the
stranger within their gates" a cordial welcome. This,
however, was accorded to us, not only among the Mor-
mons, but in every section of our journey on the Green
and Colorado rivers.

The following day was a busy one. Arrangements
had been made with a local photographer to get the use
of his dark room, and we proceeded to develop all plates
and many of our films. These were then to be packed
and shipped out. We were informed at the local express
office, that it might be some time before they would go,
as the recent rains had been very bad in Colorado and
had washed out most of the bridges.

Vernal had passenger transportation to the railway — a
branch of the D. & R. G. running north into Colorado
— by automobile, the route lying across the Green and
also across the White River, a tributary to the Green. A
steel structure had been washed away on the White
River, making it impossible to get through to the station.
The high water below here must have been a flood,

AN INLAND EXCURSION 89

judging from all reports. About ten bridges, large and
small, were reported as being washed away on numerous
branch streams leading into the Green River. Fortu-
nately Vernal had another means of communication. This
was a stage running southwest from Vernal, over 125
miles of rough road to Price, Utah — Price being a station
on the main line of the D. & R. G.

Jimmy concluded that he would take this road, in
preference to the uncertainties of the other route, and
noon that day found him on board the stage. He prom-
ised to write to us, and was anxious to hear of our
success, but remarked that when he once got home he
would "never leave San Francisco again." There was a
final hand clasp, a cheer from the small group of men, and
the stage drove away with Jimmy, a happy boy indeed.

Our work on the developing progressed well, and with
very satisfying results on the whole, and that evening
found us with all plates packed ready for shipment to
our home. The moving-picture film was also packed and
shipped to be developed at once. This was quite a load
off our minds.

The following day we prepared to depart, but did not
leave until the afternoon. Then, with promises to let
them know the outcome of our venture, we parted
from our friends and rode back to Jensen.

We planned on leaving the following morning. The
river had fallen one foot since we had landed, and we were

90 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

anxious to have the benefit of the high water. We
were told that it was six feet above the low-water stage
of two weeks before.

On Monday, October the 9th, after loading our boats
with a new stock of provisions, — in which was included a
few jars of honey, and a few dozen of eggs, packed in
sawdust, --we began what might be called the second
stage of our journey ; the 1 75-mile run to Blake or Green
River, Utah, a little west of south from Jensen. Ten
miles below Jensen was a ferry used by the auto and
wagons. Here also was a ranch house, with a number of
people in the yard. We were invited to land and did so.
They had been informed by telephone of our coming and
were looking for us ; indeed they had even prepared
dinner for us, hoping we would reach there in time.
Not knowing all this, we had eaten our cold lunch half an
hour before. The women were busy preserving fruits
and garden truck, and insisted on us taking two or three
jars along. This was a welcome change to the dried
fruit, which was one of our principal foods. These people
made the usual request —

"Drop us a post card if you get through."

The memory of these people that we met on this
journey will linger with us as long as we live. They
were always anxious to help us or cheer us on our way.

We passed a dredge that evening and saw a man at
work with a team and scoop shovel, the method being

AN INLAND EXCURSION 91

to scoop up the gravel and sand, then dump it in an iron
car. This was then pulled by the horses to the top of
a derrick up a sloping track and dumped. A stream of
water pumped up from the river mixed with the gravel,
the entire mass descended a long zigzagging chute. We
paused a few minutes only and did not examine the com-
plicated process of separating the mineral from the gravel.
This dredge had been recently installed. We camped
early, half a mile below the dredge.

Emery had been feeling poorly all this day. He
blamed his indisposition to having eaten too many
good things when in Vernal — a break in training, as it
were. This was our excuse for a short run that day. I
played nurse and gave him some simple remedy from the
little supply that we carried ; and, after he was in his
sleeping bag, I filled some hot-water bags for the first
time on the trip, and soon had him feeling quite
comfortable.

A hard wind came up that night, and a little rain fell.
I had a busy half-hour keeping our camp from being blown
away. The storm was of short duration, and all was
soon quiet again. On the following morning Emery
felt so good that I had a hard time in keeping up with
him, and I wondered if he would ever stop. Towards
evening, after a long pull, we neared the reservation of
the Uinta Utes, and saw a few Indians camped away
from the river. Here, again, were the cottonwood

92 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

bottoms, banked by the barren, gravelly hills. We had
been informed that there was a settlement called Ouray,
some distance down the river, and we were anxious to
reach it before night. But the river was sluggish, with
devious and twisting channels, and it was dark when we
finally landed at the Ouray ferry.

CHAPTER IX

CANYON OF DESOLATION

OURAY, Utah, consisted of a large store to supply
the wants of the Indians and ranchers, a small hotel,
and a few dwellings. The agency proper was located
some distance up the Uinta River, which stream emptied
into the Green, just below Ouray.

Supper was taken at the hotel, after which we visited a
young man in charge of the store, looking over his curios
and listening to tales of his life here among these Indians.
They were peaceable enough now, but in years gone by
were a danger to be reckoned with. We slept in our own
beds close to our boats by the river.

The following morning, when we were ready to leave,
a small crowd gathered, a few Indians among them. Most
of the Indians were big, fat, and sleepy-looking. Ap-
parently they enjoyed the care of the government.
A mile below we passed several squaws and numerous
children under some trees, while on a high mound stood
a lone buck Indian looking at us as we sped by, but with-

94 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

out a single movement that we could see. He still stood
there as we passed from sight a mile below. It might
be interesting if one could know just what was in his mind
as he watched us.

A mile below the Uinta River, which entered on the
west, we passed another stream, the White River, entering
from the east, the two streams adding considerable
water to the Green River. We passed another idle dredge,
also some mineral workings in tunnels, and saw two
men camped on the shore beside them. We saw
numerous Indian carvings on the rocks, but judged they
were recent because horses figured in most of them. In
all the open country the river was fringed with large
cottonwood trees, alders and willow thickets. A number
of islands followed, one of them very symmetrical in
shape, with cottonwood trees in the centre, while around
the edge ran a fringe of bushes looking almost like a
trimmed hedge. The autumn colouring added to its
beauty. The hedge, as we called it, was dark red, brown,
yellow, and green ; the cottonwoods were a light yellow.
After we had passed this island, a deer, confused by our
voices, jumped into the river fifty yards behind us, leaping
and swimming as he made for the shore. We had no
gun, but Emery had the moving-picture camera at hand,
and turned it on the deer. The hour was late, however,
and we had little hopes of its success as a picture. The
country back from the river stretched in rolling, barren

CANYON OF DESOLATION 95

hills 200 or 300 feet high — a continuation of the Bad
Lands of Utah, which lay off to the west.

With the next day's travel the hills lost some of their
barren appearance. Some cattle were seen early in the
afternoon of the following day. We passed a cattle man
working at a ferry, who had just taken some stock across,
which other men had driven on ahead. He was busy,
so we did not interrupt him, merely calling to him from
the boats, drifting meanwhile with the current. Soon we
saw him riding down the shore and waited for him to
catch up. He invited us to camp with him that evening,
remarking that he had "just killed a beef." We thanked
him, but declined, as it was early and we had only travelled
a short distance that day. We chatted awhile, and
he told us to look out for rapids ahead. He was rather
surprised when he learned that we had started at Green
River, Wyoming, and had already come through a few
rapids.

"Where are you going to stop ? " he then asked.

On being told that our destination was Needles,
California, he threw up his hands with an expressive
gesture, then added soberly, "Well, boys, I sure wish you
luck," and rode back to his camp.

We had difficulty in making a suitable landing that
evening, as the high water had deposited great quantities
of black mud over everything, making it very disagreeable
when we left the boats. We finally found a place with

96 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

less mud to wade through than on most of the banks
seen, and tied up to the roots of a tree.

While lying in our beds that night looking at the
starlit sky — such a sky as is found only on these high
plateaus — we discovered a comet directly above us.
An astronomer would have enjoyed our opportunities
for observing the heavens. No doubt this comet had
been heralded far and wide, but we doubt if any one saw
it to better advantage than did we.

Later, some coyotes, possibly in chase of a rabbit, gave
vent to their yodeling cry, and awakened us from a sound
sleep. They were in a little lateral canyon, which
magnified and gave a weird, organ-like echo to their
calls long after the coyotes themselves had passed from
hearing.

The nights were getting warmer as we travelled south,
but not so warm that we were bothered with insects. The
same reason accounted for the absence of snakes or scor-
pions, for no doubt there were plenty of both in warm
weather in this dry country. When there was no wind,
the silence of the nights was impressive, with no sound
save the lapping of the water against the banks. Some-
times a bird in the trees above would start up with a
twitter, then quiet down again. On occasions the air
chambers in our boats would contract on cooling off, mak-
ing a noise like the boom of a distant gun, every little
sound being magnified by the utter stillness of the night.

CANYON OF DESOLATION 97

There were other times when it was not so quiet.
Hundreds of birds, geese, ducks and mud-hens had been
seen the last few days. Also there were occasional
cranes and herons, over a thousand miles from their
breeding place at the mouth of the Colorado. As dusk
settled, we would see these birds abandon their feeding
in the mud, and line up on the shore, or on an island, and go
to sleep. Occasionally one of these birds would start
up out of a sound sleep with an unearthly squawk. Pos-
sibly an otter had interrupted its dreams, or a fox had
pounced on one as it slept. It may be that it was only a
bad dream of these enemies that caused their fright,
but whatever it was, that first call would start up the
entire flock and they would circle in confusion like a
stampeded herd of cattle, their discordant cries putting
an end to the stillness of the night. Finally they would
settle down in a new spot, and all would be quiet once
more.

We saw a few birds that were strangers to us, — water
birds which we imagined belonged to the salt water
rather than the inland streams, making a little excursion,
perhaps, away from their accustomed haunts. One
type we saw on two occasions, much like a gull, but
smaller, pure white as far as we could tell, soaring in
graceful flight above the river.

Camp No. 26 was close to the beginning of a new
canyon. The country had been changing in appearance

98 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

from rather fiat plains to small bare hills, gradually
increasing in height with smooth, rounded sides, and
going up to a point, usually of a dirty clay colour, with
little vegetation of any kind on them. The river for
miles past had swept in long graceful curves, the hills
being close to the river on the outside of the curve, leaving
a big flat on the inside. This flat gradually sloped back
to hills of an equal height to those opposite. Then the
curve would reverse, and the same conditions would be
met with again, but on opposite sides from the previous
bend. After passing a creek the evening before, the
hills became higher, and from our camp we could see the
first place where they came close on both sides to the river.
We felt now that our beautiful tree-covered canyons
were behind us and from now on we would be hemmed
in by the great eroded canyons of the Southwest. We
were sorry to leave those others behind, and could easily
understand why Major Powell had named this Desola-
tion Canyon.

As the canyon deepened the cliffs were cut into fan-
tastic shapes, as is usual in rocks unprotected by vege-
tation. There was a hard rock near the top in places,
which overhung a softer formation. This would erode,
giving a cornice-like effect to the cliffs. Others were
surmounted by square towers and these were capped by
a border of little squares, making the whole look much
like a castle on the Rhine. For half a day we found no

CANYON OF DESOLATION 99

rapids, but pulled away on a good current. The walls
gradually grew higher and were more rugged ; a few trees
cropped out on their sides. At noon our boats were
lashed together and lunch was eaten as we drifted. We
covered about three miles in this way, taking in the
scenery as we passed. We saw a great stone arch, or
natural bridge, high on a stupendous cliff to our right,
and wondered if any one had ever climbed up to it. Our
lunch was no more than finished when the first rapid was
heard ahead of us. Quickly unlashing our boats, we
prepared for strenuous work. Friday the I3th proved
to be a lucky day; thirteen large rapids and thirteen
small ones were placed behind us before we camped at
Rock Creek — a splashing, laughing mountain stream,
no doubt containing trout.

The following morning we found there was a little
ranch house below us, but, though we called from our
boats, no one came out. We wondered how any one could
reach this out-of-the-way place, as a road would be almost
an impossibility. Later we found a well-constructed
trail on the right-hand side all the way through the
canyon. We saw a great many cattle travelling this
trail. Some were drinking at the river when we swept
into view. Our boats filled them with alarm, and they
scrambled for the hillsides, looking after us with frightened
expressions as we left them to the rear.

We put in a full day at running rapids, one after another,

100 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

until fifteen large ones were passed, no count being kept
of the smaller ones. Some of these rapids resembled
dams from six to twelve feet high, with the water falling
abruptly over a steep slope. Others were long and
rough, with swift water in places. Above one of these
we had landed, then found we could get a much better
view from the opposite shore. Emery crossed and
landed, I followed. We had been having heavy winds
all day. When crossing here I was caught by a sudden
gust of wind and carried to the head of the rapid. I heard
Emery call, "Look out for the big rock!" then over I
went. The wind and water together had turned my boat
sideways, and try as I would I could not get it turned
around. I saw the rock Emery referred to straight
ahead of me. It was about fifteen feet square and
about fourteen feet from the shore, with a powerful current
shooting between the rock and the shore. It seemed
as if I must strike the rock broadside, and I ceased my
struggle, but held out an oar with both hands, hoping to
break the blow. But it never came. The water struck
this rock with great force, then rebounded, and actually
kept me from even touching the rock with the oar, but
it caught the boat and shot it through the narrow channel,
bow first, as neatly as it could possibly be done, then
turned the boat around again as I scrambled to regain
my hold on both oars. No other rocks threatened,
however, and besides filling the cockpit with water, no
damage was done.

CANYON OF DESOLATION IOI

Emery had no desire to follow my passage and crossed
back to the other side. Shooting over the upper end
of the rapid, his boat ran up on a rounded rock, the
stern sticking high in the air ; it paused a moment, the
current slowly turning it around as if on a pivot, and
the boat slid off; then down he came lurching and
plunging, but with no more difficulty. Many times in
such places as these we saw the advantage of our flat-
bottomed boats over one with a keel, for these would
surely be upset when running up on such a rock.

CHAPTER X

HOSPITABLE RANCHMEN

THE appearance of Desolation Canyon had changed
entirely in the lower end. Instead of a straight canyon,
without a break, we were surrounded by mountain
peaks nearly 2500 feet high, with many side canyons
between them and with little level parks at the end of
the canyons beside the river. The tops were pine-
covered ; cedars clung to the rocky slopes. Some of
these peaks were not unlike the formations of the Grand
Canyon, as seen from the inner plateau, and the red colour-
ing was once more found in the rocks.

These peaks were gradually dropping down in height ;
and at one open section, with alfalfa and hay fields
on gently sloping hillsides, we found a small ranch,
the buildings being set back from the river. We con-
cluded to call and found three men, the rancher and
two young cowboys, at work in a blacksmith shop.
Emery had forgotten to remove his life-preserver, and the
men looked at him with some astonishment, as he was still
soaking wet from the splashing waves of the last rapid.

102

HOSPITABLE RANCHMEN 103

When I joined him he was explaining that no one had
been drowned, and that we were merely making an ex-
cursion down the river. Mr. McPherson, the rancher,
we learned, owned all the cattle seen up the river. The
little cabin at our last camp was a sort of headquarters
for his cowboys. The cattle were just being driven from
the mountains before the snows came, and were to be
wintered here in the canyons. Some of these cattle were
much above the usual grade of range cattle, being
thoroughbreds, although most of them ran loose on the
range. This ranch had recently lost a valuable bull
which had been killed by a bear up in the mountains —
not unlike similar conflicts in more civilized sections of
the country. McPherson camped on this bear's trail
for several days and nights before he finally hung his
pelt on a tree. He was a large cinnamon-coloured grizzly.
Four other bears had been killed this same year, in these
mountains.

McPherson's home had burned down a short time
before our visit, and his family had removed to Green
River, Utah. A number of tents were erected, neatly
boarded up, and we were informed that one of these
was reserved for company, so we need not think of going
any farther that day. These men, while absolutely
fearless in the saddle, over these rough mountain trails,
had "no use for the river" they told us ; in fact, we found
this was the usual attitude of the cattle men wherever we

104 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

met them. McPherson's respect for the river was not
without reason, as his father, with two others, had been
drowned while making a crossing in a light boat near
this point, some years before. Some accident occurred,
possibly the breaking of a rowlock, and they were car-
ried into a rapid. McPherson's men found it necessary
to cross their cattle back and forth, but always took the
wise precaution to have on some life-preservers. These
cork preservers hung in the blacksmith shop, where
they could easily be reached at a moment's notice.

Desolation Canyon, with a slight breaking down
of the walls for a short distance only, gave place to
Gray Canyon below the McPherson Ranch. A good-
sized mountain stream, part of which irrigated the
ranch above, found its way through this division. We
had been told that more rapids lay ahead of us in Gray
Canyon, but they were not so numerous in our next
day's travel. What we did find were usually large, but
we ran them all without difficulty. About noon we met
five men in a boat, rowing up the stream in a long, still
stretch. They told us they were working on a dam, a
mile or two below. They followed us down to see us make
the passage through the rapid which lay above their
camp. The rapid was long and rocky, having a seventeen-
foot fall in a half mile. We picked our channel by stand-
ing up in the boat before entering the rapid and were soon
at the bottom with no worse mishap than bumping a

HOSPITABLE RANCHMEN 105

rock or two rather lightly. We had bailed out and
were tying our boats, when the men came panting down
the hill up which they had climbed to see us make this
plunge. A number of men were at work here, but this
being Sunday, most of them had gone to Green River,
Utah, twenty-one miles distant.

Among the little crowd who came down to see us re-
sume our rowing was a lady and a little girl who lived in
a rock building, near the other buildings erected for
the working-men. Emery showed the child a picture of
his four-year-old daughter, Edith, with her mother — a
picture he always carried in a note-book. Then he had
her get in the boat with him, and we made a photograph
of them. They were very good friends before we left.

In a few hours we emerged from the low-walled canyon
into a level country. A large butte, perhaps 700 feet
high, stood out by itself, a mile from the main cliffs.
This was Gunnison Butte, an old landmark near the
Gunnison trail. We were anxious to reach Blake or
Green River, Utah, not many miles below, that evening ;
but we failed to make it. There were several rapids,
some of them quite large, and we had run them all when
we came to a low dam that obstructed our passage.
While looking it over, seeing how best to make a portage,
a young man whom we had just seen remarked :

"Well, boys, you had better tie up and I will help you
in the morning."

106 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

It was 5.30 then, and we were still six miles from Green
River, so we took his advice and camped. On seeing
our sleeping bags, tightly strapped and making rather a
small roll, he remarked :

"Well, you fellows are not Mormons; I can tell by
the size of your beds !"

Our new friend gave the name of Wolverton. There
was another man named Wilson who owned a ranch
just below the dam. Both of these men were much in-
terested in our experiences. Wolverton had consider-
able knowledge of the river and of boats ; very little per-
suasion would have been necessary to have had him for
a companion on the balance of our journey. But we
had made up our minds to make it alone, now, as it looked
feasible. Both Wilson and Wolverton knew the country
below Green River, Utah, having made surveys through
much of the surrounding territory. Wolverton said we
must surely see his father, who lived down the river
and who was an enthusiast on motor boats. A few
minutes' work the next morning sufficed to get our
boats over the dam. The dam was constructed of
loose rock and piles, chinked with brush and covered
with sloping planks, — just a small dam to raise the
water for irrigation purposes. Much of the water ran
through the canal; in places the planks were dry, in
others some water ran over. The boats, being unloaded,
were pulled up on these planks, then slid into the water

PAT LYNCH: THE CANYON HERMIT.

HOSPITABLE RANCHMEN 107

below. Wilson had a large water wheel for irrigation pur-
poses, the first of several such wheels which we were to see
this day. These wheels, twenty feet or more in height,
— with slender metal buckets each holding several gallons
of water, fastened at intervals on either side, — were
placed in a swift current, anchored on the shore to stout
piles, or erected over mill-races cut in the banks. There they
revolved, the buckets filling and emptying automatically,
the water running off in troughs above the level of the
river back to the fertile soil. Some of these wheels had
ingenious floating arrangements whereby they accom-
modated themselves to the different stages of a rising
or falling river. We took a few pictures of Wilson's
place before leaving. He informed us that he had tele-
phoned to certain people in Green River who would
help us in various ways. Two hours' rowing, past many
pretty little ranches, brought us to the railroad bridge,
a grateful sight to us. A pumping plant stood beside
the bridge under charge of Captain Yokey, one of Wilson's
friends. Yokey owned a large motor boat, which was
tied up to the shore. Our boats were left in his charge
while we went up to the town, a mile distant. Another
of Wilson's friends met us, and secured a dark room for
us, so that we could do a little developing and we pre-
pared for work on the following day.

That night a newspaper reporter hunted us out,
anxious for a story. We gave him what we had, making

108 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

light of our previous difficulties, which were exciting
enough at times ; but owing to the comparatively small
size of the stream, we seldom thought our lives were in
any great danger. The papers made the most of these
things, and the stories that came out had little sem-
blance to our original statements. We have since
learned that no matter how much one minimizes such
things, they are seldom published as reported.

We put in a busy day unpacking new films and plates,
developing all films from the smaller cameras and send-
ing these home. A new stock of provisions had to be
purchased, enough for one month at least, for there was
no chance of securing supplies until we reached our can-
yon home, about 425 miles below.

We had a valuable addition to our cargo in two metal
boxes that had been shipped here, as it was not possible
to get them before leaving Wyoming. These cases or
trunks were sent from England, and were water-tight,
if not waterproof, there being a slight difference. Well
constructed, with rubber gaskets and heavy clamps, every
possible precaution had been taken, it seemed, to exclude
the water and still render them easy of access. They
were about thirty inches long, fifteen wide, and twelve
high, just the thing for our photographic material. Up
to this time everything had to be kept under the decks
when in bad water. These boxes were placed in the
open section in front of us, and were thoroughly fastened

HOSPITABLE RANCHMEN 109

to the ribs to prevent loss, ready to be opened or closed
in a moment, quite a convenience when pictures had to
be taken hurriedly.

The following day we went over the boats, caulking
a few leaks. The bottoms of the boats were considerably
the worse for wear, owing to our difficulties in the first
canyons. We got some thin oak strips and nailed them
on the bottom to help protect them, when portaging.
Sliding the boats on the scouring sand and rough-sur-
faced rock was hard on the half-inch boards on the bottom
of the boats. This work was all completed that day, and
everything was ready for the next plunge.

In passing the station, we noticed the elevation above
sea-level was placed at 4085 feet, and remembered that
Green River, Wyoming, was 6080 feet, showing that our
descent in the past 425 miles had been close to 2000 feet.
We had not found it necessary to line or portage any
rapids since leaving Lodore Canyon; we were hopeful
that our good luck would continue.

Nothing was to be feared from what remained of the
Green River, 120 miles or more, for motor boats made the
journey to its junction with the Grand, and we were
told even ascended the Grand for some distance. Below
this junction was the Colorado River, a different stream
from the one we were still to navigate.

Before leaving, we ate a final hearty breakfast at the
boarding-house where we had been taking our meals.

110 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

A number of young men, clerks in some of the business
houses here; were among the boarders. The landlady,
a whole-souled German woman and an excellent cook,
was greatly worried over their small appetites, thinking
it was a reflection on her table. She remarked that she
hoped we had good appetites, and I am sure she had
no complaint to make so far as we were concerned. We
had never stinted ourselves when on the river, but the
change and the rest seemed to give us an abnormal
appetite that could not be satisfied, and we would simply
quit eating because we were ashamed to eat more. Less
than half an hour after one of these big meals, I was sur-
prised to see my brother in a restaurant with a sheepish
grin on his face, and with a good-sized lunch before him.

CHAPTER XI

WONDERS OF EROSION

Thursday, October the igth. We embarked again with
two of our new-found friends on board as passengers for
a short ride, their intention being to hunt as they walked
back. They left us at a ranch beside the San Rafael
River, a small stream entering from the west. They
left some mail with us to be delivered to Mr. Wolverton,
whose son we had met above. About 20 miles below
Green River we reached his home. Judging by a number
of boats — both motor and row boats — tied to his
landing, Mr. Wolverton was an enthusiastic river-man.
After glancing over his mail, he asked how we had come
and was interested when he learned that we were making
a boating trip. He was decidedly interested when he
saw the boats and learned that we were going to our
home in the Grand Canyon. His first impression was
that we were merely making a little pleasure trip on the
quiet water.

Going carefully over the boats, he remarked that they
met with his approval with one exception. They

112 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

seemed to be a little bit short for the heavy rapids of the
Colorado, he thought. He agreed that our experience
in the upper rapids had been good training, but said there
was no comparison in the rapids. We would have a
river ten times as great as in Lodore to contend with ;
and in numerous places, for short distances, the descent
was as abrupt as anything we had seen on the Green.
Wolverton was personally acquainted with a number of
the men who had made the river trip, and, with the one
exception of Major Powell's expeditions, had met all
the parties who had successfully navigated its waters.
This not only included Galloway's and Stone's respective
expeditions, which had made the entire trip, but included
two other expeditions which began at Green River, Utah,
and had gone through the canyons of the Colorado.1
These were the Brown-Stanton expedition, which made
a railroad survey through the canyons of the Colorado ;
and another commonly known as the Russell-Monnette
expedition, two of the party making the complete trip,
arriving at Needles after a voyage filled with adventure
and many narrow escapes. Mr. Wolverton remarked
that every one knew of those who had navigated the entire
series of canyons, but that few people knew of those who

1 Brown-Stanton. May 25, 1889.
Russell-Monnette. Sept. 20, 1907.

For a more complete record of these expeditions, as well as others who attempted
the passage of the canyons below this point, see appendix.

WONDERS OF EROSION 113

had been unsuccessful. He knew of seven parties that
had failed to get through Cataract Canyon's forty-one
miles of rapids, with their boats, most of them never
being heard of again.

These unsuccessful parties were often miners or pros-
pectors who wished to get into the comparatively flat
country which began about fifty miles below the Junction
of the Green and the Grand rivers. Here lay Glen
Canyon, with 150 miles of quiet water. Nothing need
be feared in this, or in the 120 miles of good boating from
Green River, Utah, to the junction. Between these two
points, however, lay Cataract Canyon, beginning at
the junction of the two rivers. Judging by its unsavory
record, Cataract Canyon was something to be feared.

Among these parties who had made short trips on the
river was one composed of two men. Phil Foote was
a gambler, stage robber, and bad man in general. He
had broken out of jail in Salt Lake City and, accompanied
by another of similar character, stole a boat at Green
River, Utah, and proceeded down the river. Soon after
entering Cataract Canyon, they lost their boat and provi-
sions. Finding a tent which had been washed down the
river, they tore it into strips and constructed a raft out
of driftwood, tying the logs together with the strips of
canvas. Days of hardship followed, and starvation stared
them in the face ; until finally Foote's partner gave up,
and said he would drown himself. With an oath Foote

114 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

drew his revolver, saying he had enough of such cowardice
and would save him the trouble. His companion then
begged for his life, saying he would stick to the end, and
they finally got through to the Hite ranch, which lay a
short distance below. They were taken care of here,
and terminated their voyage a short distance beyond,
going out over land. Foote was afterwards shot and
killed while holding up a stage in Nevada.

The Hite ranch also proved to be a place of refuge for
others, the sole survivors of two other parties who were
wrecked, one person escaping on each occasion. Kite's
ranch, and Lee's Ferry, 140 miles below Hite, had mail
service. We had left instructions at the post-office to
forward our mail to one or the other of these points.
These were also the only places on our 425-mile run to
Bright Angel Trail where we could expect to see any
people, so we were informed. We were about to descend
into what is, possibly, the least inhabited portion of the
United States of America.

A party of civil engineers working here, joined us
that evening at Wolverton's home. A young man in
the party asked us if we would consent to carry a letter
through with us and mail it at our destination. He
thought it would be an interesting souvenir for the person
to whom it was addressed. We agreed to do our best,
but would not guarantee delivery. The next morning
two letters were given us to mail, and were accepted

SKELETON FOUND IN THE GRAND CANYON.

WONDERS OF EROSION 115

with this one reservation. Before leaving Mr. Wolverton
showed us his motor boat with much pardonable pride.
On this boat he sometimes took small parties down to
the beginning of the Colorado River, and up the Grand,
a round trip of three hundred miles or more. The boat
had never been taken down the Colorado for the simple
reason that the rapids began almost immediately below
the junction.

Wolverton, while he had never been through the
rapids in a boat, had followed the river on foot for several
miles and was thoroughly familiar with their nature.
On parting he remarked,

"Well, boys, you are going to tackle a mighty hard
proposition, but I'm sure you can make it if you are only
careful. But look out and go easy."

Wolverton was no novice, speaking from much experi-
ence in bad water, and we were greatly impressed by
what he had to say.

Five uneventful days were spent in Labyrinth and
Stillwater canyons, through which the Green peace-
fully completed its rather violent descent. In the upper
end we usually found rough water in the canyons and
quiet water in the open sections. Here at least were two
canyons, varying from 300 feet at their beginning to 1300
feet in depth, both without a rapid. The first of these was
Labyrinth Canyon, so named from its elaborately wind-
ing course as well as its wonderful intricate system of

Il6 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

dry, lateral canyons, and its reproduction in rock of archi-
tectural forms, castles, arches, and grottos ; even animals
and people were represented in every varying form.

Our Sunday camp was beside what might be called
a serpentine curve or series of loops in the river. This
was at the centre of what is known as the Double Bow
Knot, three rounded loops, very symmetrical in form, with
an almost circular formation of flat-topped rock, a mile or
more in diameter in the centre of each loop. A narrow
neck of rock connects these formations to the main mesa, all
being on the same level, about 700 feet above the river.
The upper half of the rock walls was sheer ; below was a
steep boulder-covered slope. The centre formation is
the largest and most perfect, being nearly two miles in
diameter and almost round; so much so, that a very
few minutes are necessary to climb over the narrow neck
which connects this formation to the mesa. It took
45 minutes of hard rowing on a good current to take us
around this one loop. The neck is being rapidly eroded,
two hundred feet having disappeared from the top, and
at some distant day will doubtless disappear entirely,
making a short cut for the river, and will leave a rounded
island of rock standing seven hundred feet above the
river. A bird's-eye view of the three loops would com-
pare well in shape to the little mechanical contrivance
known as the "eye" in the combination of "hook and
eye." All women and many men will get a clear idea

WONDERS OF EROSION 117

of the shape of the Double Bow Knot from this com-
parison.

We recorded an interesting experiment with the ther-
mometer at this camp, showing a great variety of tem-
peratures, unbelievable almost to one who knows noth-
ing of conditions in these semi-arid plateaus. A little
ice had formed the night before. Under a clear sky the
next day at noon, our thermometer recorded 54 degrees in
the shade, but ran up to 102 degrees in the sun. At the
same time the water in the river was 52 degrees Far.
The effect of being deluged in ice-cold waves, then running
into deep sunless canyons with a cold wind sweeping
down from the snow on top, can be easier imagined than
described. This is what we could expect to meet later.

The colouring of the rocks varied greatly in many lo-
calities, a light red predominating. In some places the
red rock was capped by a gray, flint-like limestone; in
others this had disappeared, but underneath the red
were regular strata of various-coloured rocks, pink,
brown, light yellow, even blue and green being found in
two or three sections.

The forms of erosion were as varied as the rock itself,
each different-coloured rock stratum presenting a different
surface. In one place the surface was broken into rounded
forms like the backs of a herd of elephants. In others
we saw reproductions of images, carved by the drifting
sands — a Diana, with uplifted arm, as large as the

Il8 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

Goddess of Liberty ; a Billiken on a throne with a hun-
dred worshippers bowed around. Covered with nature-
made ruins and magnificent rock structures, as this
section is, it is not entirely without utility. It is a grazing
country. Great numbers of contented cattle, white-
faced, with red and white, or black and white patches of
colour on their well-filled hides, were found in the open
spaces between the sheer-walled cliffs. Dusty, well-
beaten trails led down through these wide canyons,
trails which undoubtedly gained the top of the level,
rocky plateau a few miles back from the river. As is
usual in a cattle country at the end of the summer season,
the bunch-grass, close to the water supply — which in
this case happened to the river — was nibbled close
to the roots. The cattle only came here to drink, then
travelled many miles, no doubt, to the better grazing on
the upper plateaus. The sage, always gray, was grayer
still, with dust raised by many passing herds. There
was a band of range horses too, those splendid wild-eyed
animals with kingly bearing, and wind-blown tails and
manes, lean like a race-horse, strong-muscled and tough-
sinewed, pawing and neighing, half defiant and half
afraid of the sight of men, the only thing alive to which
they pay tribute.

It is a never ending source of wonder, to those un-
acquainted with the semi-arid country, how these ani-
mals can exist in a land which, to them, seems utterly

WONDERS OF EROSION

destitute and barren. To many such, a meadow car-
peted with blue grass or timothy is the only pasture on
which grazing horses or grazing cattle can exist; the
dried-out looking tufts of bunch-grass, scattered here
and there or sheltered at the roots of the sage, mean
nothing ; the grama-grass hidden in the grease-wood
is unnoticed or mistaken for a weed.

But if the land was bare of verdure, the rock saved
it from being monotonous. Varied in colour, the red rock
predominated — blood-red at mid-day, orange-tinted
at sunset, with gauze-like purple shadows, and with the
delicate blue outlines always found in the Western dis-
tances ; such a land could never be called uninteresting.
The banks of the stream, here in the open, were always
green. From an elevation they appeared like two emerald
bands through a land of red, bordering a stream the tint
of the aged pottery found along its shores. We were
continually finding new trees and strange shrubs. Beside
the cottonwoods and the willows there was an occasional
wild-cherry tree; in the shrubs were the service-berry,
and the squaw-berry, with sticky, acid-tasting fruit.
The cacti were small, and excepting the prickly pear
were confined nearly altogether to a small "pin-cush-
ion" cactus, growing a little larger as we travelled
south. And always in the mornings when out of the
deep canyons the moist, pungent odour of the sage greeted
our nostrils. It is inseparable from the West. There is

120 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

no stuffy germ-laden air there, out in the sage ; one is
glad to live, simply to breathe it in and exhale and breathe
again.

In Still water Canyon the walls ran up to 1300 feet
in height, a narrow canyon, with precipitous sides.
Occasionally we could see great columns of rock standing
on top of the mesa. Late one evening we saw some small
cliff dwellings several hundred feet above the river, and
a few crude ladders leaning against the cliff below the
dwellings. A suitable camp could not be made here, or
we would have stopped to examine them. The shores
were slippery with mud and quicksands, and there was
no fire-wood in sight. From here to the end of the canyons
we would have to depend almost entirely on the drift-
piles for fire- wood.

A landing was finally made where a section of a cliff
had toppled from above, affording a solid footing leading
up to the higher bank. We judged from our maps that
we were within a very few miles of the Colorado River.
Here some footprints and signs of an old boat landing,
apparently about a week old, were seen in the sand.
This surprised us somewhat, as we had heard of no one
coming down ahead of us.

CHAPTER XII

COULD WE SUCCEED ?

AN hour or two at the oars the next morning sufficed
to bring us to the junction of the Green and the Grand
rivers. We tied up our boats, and prepared to climb
out on top, as we had a desire to see the view from above.
A mile back on the Green we had noticed a sort of canyon
or slope breaking down on the west side, affording a
chance to reach the top. Loading ourselves with a
light lunch, a full canteen, and our smaller cameras, we
returned to this point and proceeded to climb out. Pow-
ell's second expedition had climbed out at this same
place; Wolverton had also mentioned the fact that he
had been out; so we were quite sure of a successful at-
tempt before we made the climb.

The walk close to the river, over rocks and along
narrow ledges, was hard work; the climb out was even
more so. The contour maps which we carried credited
these walls with 1300 feet height. If we had any doubt
concerning the accuracy of this, it disappeared before we
finally reached the top. What we saw, however, was

121

122 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

worth all the discomfort we had undergone. Close to
the top, three branches of dry, rock-bottomed gullies,
carved from a gritty, homogeneous sandstone, spread
out from the slope we had been climbing. These were
less precipitous. Taking the extreme left-hand gully,
we found the climb to the top much easier. At the very
end we found an irregular hole a few feet in diameter,
not a cave, but an opening left between some immense
rocks, touching at the top, seemingly rolled together.

Gazing down through this opening, we were amazed
to find that we were directly above the Colorado itself.
It was so confusing at first that we had to climb to the
very top to see which river it was, I contending that it
was the Green, until satisfied that I was mistaken. The
view from the top was overwhelming, and words can
hardly describe what we saw, or how we were affected
by it.

We found ourselves on top of an irregular plateau
of solid rock, with no earth or vegetation save a few little
bushes and some very small cedars in cracks in the rocks.
Branching canyons, three or four hundred feet in depth,
and great fissures ran down in this rock at intervals. Some
were dark and crooked, and the bottom could not be seen.
Between these cracks, the rock rounded like elephants'
backs sloping steeply on either side. Some could be crossed,
some could not. Others resembled a "maze," the puzzle
being how to get from one point to another a few

COULD WE SUCCEED? 123

feet away. The rock was a sandstone and presented
a rough surface affording a good hold, so there was little
danger of slipping. We usually sat down and "inched"
our way to the edge of the cracks, jumping across to
little ledges when possible, always helping each other.

The rock at the very edge of the main canyon over-
hung, in places 75 to 100 feet, and the great mass of
gigantic boulders — sections of shattered cliffs — on the
steep slope near the river gave evidence of a continual
breaking away of these immense rocks.

To the north, across the canyon up which we had
climbed, were a great number of smooth formations,
from one hundred to four hundred feet high, rounded on
top in domes, reminding one of Bagdad and tales from the
Arabian Nights. "The Land of Standing Rocks," the
Utes call it. The rock on which we stood was light
gray or nearly white; the river walls at the base for a
thousand feet above the river were dark red or chocolate-
brown ; while the tops of the formations above this level
were a beautiful light red tint.

But there were other wonders. On the south side
of the Colorado's gorge, miles away, were great spires,
pointing heavenward, singly and in groups, looking like
a city of churches. Beyond the spires were the Blue
Mountains, to the east the hazy LaSalle range, and
nearest of all on the west just north of the Colorado lay
the snow-covered peaks of the Henry Mountains. Di-

124 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

rectly below us was the Colorado River, muddy, swirling,
and forbidding. A mile away boomed a rapid, beyond
that was another, then the river was lost to view.

Standing on the brink of all this desolation, it is
small wonder if we recalled the accounts of the disasters
which had overtaken so many others in the canyon
below us. Many who had escaped the water had climbed
out on to this death trap, as it had proven to be for them,
some to perish of thirst and starvation, a few to stagger
into the ranch below the canyon, a week or more after
they had escaped from the water. Small wonder that
some of these had lost their reason. We could only
conjecture at the fate of the party whose wrecked boat
had been found by the Stone expedition, a few miles below
this place, with their tracks still fresh in the sand. No
trace of them was ever found.

For the first time it began to dawn on us that we
might have tackled a job beyond our power to complete.
Most of the parties which had safely completed the trip
were composed of several men, adding much to the safety
of the expedition, as a whole. Others had boats much
lighter than ours, a great help in many respects. Speak-
ing for myself, I was just a little faint-hearted, and not
a little overawed as we prepared to return to the boats.

While returning, we saw evidences of ancient Indians
— some broken arrow-heads, and pottery also, and a
small cliff ruin under a shelving rock.

COULD WE SUCCEED? I2-

What could an Indian find here to interest him !
We had found neither bird, nor rabbit ; not even a lizard
m the Land of Standing Rocks. Perhaps they were sun
worshippers, and wanted an unobstructed view of the
eastern sky. That at least could be had, in unrivalled
grandeur, here above the Rio Colorado.

The shadows were beginning to lengthen when we
finally reached our boats at the junction. Camp was
made under a large weeping willow tree, the only tree
of its kind we remembered having seen on the journey.

While Emery prepared a hasty meal I made a few
arrangements for embarking on the Colorado River the
next morning. We were prepared to bid farewell to
the Green River --the stream that had served us so
well. In spite of our trials, even in the upper canyons,
we had found much enjoyment in our passage through its
strange and beautiful surroundings.

From a scenic point of view the canyons of the Green
tiver, with their wonderful rock formations and stupend-
ous gorges, are second only to those of the Colorado itself.
It is strange they are so little known, when one considers
the comparative ease with which these canyons on the
lower end can be reached. Some day perhaps, surfeited
globe-trotters, after having tired of commonplace scenery
and foreign lands, will learn what a wonderful region
this is, here on the lower end of the Green River.

Then no doubt, Wolverton, or others with similar

126 THROUGH THE. GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

outfits, will find a steady stream of sight-seers anxious
to take the motor boat ride down to this point, and up
to Moab, Utah, a little Mormon town on the Grand River.
A short ride by automobile from Moab to the D. & R. G.
railway would complete a most wonderful journey ; then
the transcontinental journey could be resumed.

So I mused, as I contrived an arrangement of iron
hooks and oak sticks to hold on a hatch cover, from which
all the thumb screws had been lost. More than likely
my dream of a line of sight-seeing motor boats will be
long deferred ; or they may even meet the fate of Brown's
and Stanton's plans for a railroad down these gorges.

As a reminder of the fate which overtakes so many
of our feeble plans, we found a record of Stanton's survey
on a fallen boulder, an inscription reading "A 8 1 + 5°>
Sta. D.C.C. & P.R.R.," the abbreviations standing
for Denver, Colorado Canyons, and Pacific Railroad.
It is possible that the hands that chiselled the inscription
belonged to one of the three men who were afterwards
drowned in Marble Canyon.

Emery — being very practical — interrupted my rev-
ery and plans for future sight-seers by announcing sup-
per. The meal was limited in variety, but generous in
quantity, and consisted of a dried-beef stew, fried potatoes,
and cocoa. A satisfied interior soon dispelled all our
previous apprehensiveness. We decided not to run our
rapids before we came to them.

COULD WE SUCCEED? I2-

The water still gave indications of being higher than
the low-water mark, although it was falling fast on the
Green River. Each morning, for three days previous
to our arrival at the junction, we would find the water
about szx inches lower than the stage of the evening be-
fore. Strange to say, we gained on the water with each
day s rowing, until we had almost overtaken the stage
of water we had lost during the night. More than likely
we would have all the water we needed under the new
conditions which were before us.

Beginning with the Colorado River, we made our
journals much more complete in some ways, giving all
the large rapids a number and describing many of them
m detail. This was done, not only for our own satis-
faction, but for the purpose of comparison with others who
had gone through, for many of these rapids have histories.
It was often a question, when on the Green River
whereto draw the line when counting a rapid; this was
ess difficult when on the Colorado. While the descent
was about the same as in some of the rapids above the
increased volume of water made them look and act
decidedly different. We drew the line, when counting a
rapid, at a descent having a decided agitation of the water
hidden rocks, or swift descent and with an eddy or whirl-
below. Major Powell considered that many of
these drops in the next canyon were above the ordinary
rapid, hence the name, Cataract Canyon.

128 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

At one of the camps below Green River, Utah, my
boat had been christened the Defiance, by painting the
name on the bow. After leaving the Green we usually
referred to the boats by their respective names, Emery
being in the Edith, I in the Defiance.

CHAPTER XIII

A COMPANION VOYAGER

THURSDAY morning, October the 26th, found Emery
feeling very poorly, but insisting on going ahead with
our day's work, so Camp No. 34 was soon behind us.
We were embarked on a new stream, flowing west-south-
west, with a body of water ten times the size of that
which we had found in the upper canyons of the Green.
Dur sixteen-foot boats looked quite small when compared
with the united currents of the Green and the Grand
The Colorado River must have been about
350 feet wide here just below the junction, with a three-
mile current, and possibly twenty-five feet deep, although
this is only a guess. The Grand River appeared to be the
higher of the two streams, and had a decidedly red colour,
as though a recent storm was being carried down its'
gorges ; while the colour of the Green was more of a coffee
colour --coffee with a little cream in it.

A fourth of a mile below the junction the two currents
began to mix, with a great ado about it, with small whirl-

129

130 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

pools and swift eddies, and sudden outbursts from beneath,
as though a strangled current was struggling to escape
from the weight which overpowered it. The boats were
twisted this way and that, and hard rowing was neces-
sary to carry us down to the steadied current, and to the
first rapid, which we could hear when yet far above it.

Soon we were running rapids again, and getting a
lot of sport out of it. There were some rocks, but there
was water enough so that these could be avoided. If one
channel did not suit us, we took another, and although we
were drenched in every rapid, and the cockpit was half
filled each time, it was not cold enough to cause us any
great discomfort, and we bailed out at the end of each
rapid, then hurried on to tackle the next. Each of these
rapids was from a fourth to a third of a mile in length.
The average was at least one big rapid to the mile. When
No. 5 was reached we paused a little longer, and looked
it over more carefully than we had the others. It had
a short, quick descent, then a long line of white-topped
waves, with a big whirlpool on the right. There were
numerous rocks which would take careful work to avoid.
The waves were big, — big enough for a motion picture,
— so Emery remained on shore with both the motion-
picture camera and the 8X10 plate camera in position,
ready to take the picture, while I ran my boat.

At the head of this rapid we saw footprints in the
sand, but not made with the same shoe as that which

A COMPANION VOYAGER 131

we had noticed above the junction. We had also seen
signs of a camp, and some fishes' heads above this point,
and what we took to be a dog's track along the shore.

At the head of the next rapid we saw them again,
but on the opposite side of the river, and could see where
a boat had been pulled up on the sand. This next rapid
was almost as bad as the one above it, but with a longer
descent, instead of one abrupt drop. The following
rapid was so close that we continued along the shore to
look it over at the same time, saving a stop between the
two rapids. The shores were strewn with a litter of
gigantic boulders — fallen sections of the overhanging
cliffs. We found more of this in Cataract Canyon than
in any of the canyons above. This was partly responsible
for the violence of the rapids, although the descent of
the river would make rough water even if there were no
boulders. Working back along the shore, we were sud-
denly electrified into quick action by seeing the Edith
come floating down the river, close to the shore and almost
in the rapid. Emery was a short distance ahead and
ran for the Defiance; I caught up a long pole and got on a
projecting rock, hoping I might steer her in. She passed
me, and was soon in the midst of the rapid before Emery
had launched the boat. Three gigantic boulders extended
above the water about fifty feet from shore, with a very
crooked channel between. Down toward these boulders
came the Edith, plunging like a thing possessed. How it was

132 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

done I could never tell, but she passed through the crooked
channel without once touching, and continued over the
rapid. Meanwhile Emery had run the other side and
had gained on the Edith, but only caught her when close
to the next rapid ; so he turned her loose and came to
the shore for me.

Emery had not been feeling his best and I advised
him to remain on shore while I took the boat. As we
made the change we again observed the boat, bounding
through the next rapid, whirling on the tops of the waves
as though in the hands of a superhuman juggler. I
managed to overtake her in a whirlpool below the rapid,
and came to shore for her captain. He was nearly ex-
hausted with his efforts ; still he insisted on continuing.
A few miles below we saw some ducks, and shot at
them with a revolver. But the ducks flew disdainfully
away, and landed in the pool below.

By 4.30 P.M. we were twelve miles below the junction,
a very good day's run considering the kind of water we
were travelling on, and the amount of time we spent on
the shore. We had just run our twelfth rapid, and were
turning the boats around, when we saw a man back
from the shore working over a pile of boxes which he had
covered with a piece of canvas. A boat was tied to
the water's edge. We called to him, and he answered,
but did not seem nearly as much interested in seeing
companion travellers as we were, and proceeded with his

A COMPANION VOYAGER

work. We landed, and, to save time, introduced our-
selves, as there seemed to be a certain aloofness in his
manner. He gave the name of Smith — with some hesi-
tation, we thought.

Smith was about medium size, but looked tough and
wiry; he had a sandy complexion, with light hair and
mustache. He had lost one eye, the other was that
light gray colour that is usually associated with indomi-
table nerve. He had a shrewd, rather humorous expres-
sion, and gave one the impression of being very capable.
Dressed in a neat whipcord suit, wearing light shoes and
a carefully tied tie, recently shaved — a luxury we
had denied ourselves, all this time — he was certainly
an interesting character to meet in this out-of-the-way
place. We should judge he was a little over forty years
old ; but whether prospector, trapper, or explorer it was
hard to say. Some coyote skins, drying on a rock, would
give one the impression that he was the second, with a
touch of the latter thrown in. These coyotes were
responsible for the tracks we had seen, and had mis-
taken for dog tracks, but of all the canyons we had
seen he was in the last place where we would expect to
find a trapper. The coyotes evidently reached the
river gorge through side canyons on the left, where we
had seen signs of ancient trails. Apart from that there
was no sign of animal life. With the last of the wooded
canyons, the signs of beaver had disappeared. There

134 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

were a few otter tracks, but they are wily fellows, and
are seldom trapped. While there are laws against
the trapping of beaver, they seldom prevent the trappers
from taking them when they get the chance; they are
only a little more wary of strangers ; the thought occurred
to us that this trapper may have secured some beaver in
the open sections above, and mistrusted us for this
reason.

It was too late to go any farther that evening, so we
camped a hundred yards below him, close to where our
boats were pulled out. At this place there was a long,
wide flat in the canyon, with plenty of driftwood, so we
saw no reason why we should quarrel with our neighbour.
Smith accepted our invitation to supper, stating that he
had just eaten before we arrived, but enjoyed some pine-
apple which we had kept for some special occasion, and
which was served for dessert.

Over the table we became better acquainted, and,
after learning what we were doing, he recounted his experi-
ences. He told us he had left Green River, Utah, a month
before, and had been trapping as he came along. He
knew there was a canyon, and some rapids below, but
had no idea they were so bad, and thought they were
about ended. No one had warned him, for he had told
no one what he intended doing. He had bought an old
water-logged boat that had been built by Galloway, and
seeing the uselessness of trying to run the rapids with it,

LOOKING WEST INTO CATARACT CANYON.

CHARLES SMITH AND HIS BOAT.

A COMPANION VOYAGER 135

had worked it down along the shores by holding it with
a light chain. Once he had been pulled into the river,
twice the boat had been upset, and he was just about
dried out from the last spill when we arrived. He had
heard us shooting at the ducks, so rather expected com-
pany — this in brief was his amazing story.

We were surprised when we examined the boat closely.
It had been well made, but was so old and rotten that it
seemed ready to fall to pieces. In places, the nail heads
had pulled through the boards. It was entirely open
on top — a great risk in such water. His boxes were tied
in to prevent loss. These boxes were now piled on the
shore, with a large canvas thrown over them. This
canvas, fastened at the top and sloping to the ground,
served him for a tent ; his bed was underneath. A pair
of high-topped boots, placed bottom up over two sticks,
stuck in the sand beside the camp-fire, explained the dif-
ferent tracks we had seen above.

Smith evidently was not much alarmed over his
situation. About the only thing that seemed to bother
him was the fact that his smoking tobacco had been wet
several times. That evening we got out our guide-book
- Dellenbaugh's " A Canyon Voyage " — and tried to
give him an idea of what was ahead. The walls ahead
grew higher, and closer together ; sometimes there was a
shore on one side, sometimes on the other, at one or two
places there was no shore on either side, and the rapids

136 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

continued to get worse, — so we gathered from Dellen-
baugh's experience. Above this point there were several
places where one could climb out, — we had even seen
signs of ancient trails in two side canyons, — below here
few such places existed.

Smith listened to all this attentively, then smiled
and said "I guess there will be some way through."
After a short visit he returned to his camp. We noticed
that he slept on his gun, — to keep it dry, no doubt, for
it looked like rain.

Morning found us very sorry that we had not erected
our tent, for it rained nearly all night, but when once in
our beds it was a question which was preferable ; to get
out in the rain and put up our tent, or remain in our
comfortable beds. We remained where we were. As we
prepared to leave, we offered Smith a chance to accom-
pany us through Cataract Canyon, telling him that we
would help him with his boat until the quiet water of
Glen Canyon was reached. He declined the opportunity,
saying that he would rather travel slowly and do what
trapping he could. He welcomed a chance to take a
ride on the Defiance, however. We took him over two
small rapids, and gave him an insight into our method
of avoiding the dangers. He was very enthusiastic about
it. On reaching the next rapid we all concluded it would
be very unwise to carry any passengers, for it was violent
water, so he got out on the shore.

A COMPANION VOYAGER „_

Smith had once seen some moving pictures of Japanese
shooting rapids, but he said they were nothing compared
to these, remarking that a bronco could hardly buck any
harder. The next rapid was just as bad, Rapid No. 14
for Cataract Canyon, and Smith helped us secure a mo-
tion picture. Then he prepared to return to his camp.
Just before leaving he explained rather apologetically,
that ranchers, or others, were usually very unfriendly to
a stranger coming into their section of the country.
He had heard us shooting at the ducks and he imagined
we belonged in some of the side canyons or on the top.
This explained his puzzling attitude at our first meeting,
f he had any beaver skins in his pack this would make
him even more suspicious of strangers. We wished him
nothing but the best of luck, and were good friends when
we parted. His decision to make the trip alone, poorly
equipped as he was, seemed like suicide to us. He prom-
ised to write to us if he got out, and with a final wave
of the hand we left him on the shore.

The rapid just passed was possibly the scene of the
disaster discovered by the Stone expedition. They
found a clumsy boat close to the shore, jammed in a
mass of rocks, smashed and abandoned. There were
tracks of three people in the sand, one track being a
boy's. A coat was left on the shore. The tracks disap-
peared up a box canyon. Mr. Stone corresponded with
the only settlements in all that region, few in number

138 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

and far distant ; but nothing was ever heard of them.
Two other parties have left Green River, Utah, within
a year of this find and disappeared in like manner. This
seemed to be the usual result of these attempts. In
nearly every case they have started in boats that are
entirely unfitted for rough water, and, seemingly without
any knowledge of the real danger ahead, try to follow
where others, properly equipped, have gone through.

What a day of excitement that was ! We always
thought we needed a certain amount of thrills to make
life sufficiently interesting for us. In a few hours' time,
in the central portion of Cataract Canyon, we experi-
enced nearly enough thrills to last us a lifetime. In
one or two of the upper canyons we thought we were
running rapids. Now we were learning what rapids
really were. No sooner were we through one than another
presented itself. At each of them we climbed along
the boulder-strewn shores — the lower slopes growing
steeper, the walls above towering higher — clear to the
end of the rapid. Looking upstream we could pick
out the submerged rocks hidden in the muddy water,
and looking like an innocent wave from above. Twice
we had picked out channels in sharp drops, after care-
fully observing their actions and deciding they were
free from obstructions, when suddenly the waves would
part for an instant and disclose a hidden rock — in one
case as sharp as a hound's tooth — sure disaster if we ever

A COMPANION VOYAGER

struck it. As soon as we had decided on a channel we
would lose no time in getting back to our boats and run-
ning it, for we could feel our courage oozing from our
finger tips with each second's delay. Time and again
we got through just by a scratch. Success bred confi-
dence; I distinctly remember feeling that water alone
would not upset the boat ; that it would take a collision
with a rock to do it. And each time we got through.
Twice I almost had reason to reverse my impression of
the power of water. First the stern rose up in front of
me, as if squaring off at the tops of the cliffs, then de-
scended, until it seemed to be trying to plumb the depths
of the river. The waves, rolling over me, almost knocked
me out of the boat, I lost my hold on the oars and grabbed
the sides of the boat ; then, regaining the oars, I finished
the run by pulling with the bow headed downstream,
for the boat had "swapped ends" in the interval, and
was heavy with about three barrels of water in the cock-
pit. I bailed out with a grocery box, kept under the seat
for that purpose. It had been growing quite cold, and
Emery's indisposition — or what was really acute indi-
gestion— had weakened him for the past two days, but
he pluckily declined to stop. I was soaked with my last
immersion and chilled with the wind, so concluded there
was no use having him go through the same experience
and I ran his boat while he made a picture. We were
both ready to camp then, but there was no suitable place

140 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

and we had to push on to the next rapid. On looking
it over we almost gave up our intention of running it.
It was about a fourth of a mile long ; a mass of submerged
rocks extended entirely across the river; the entire
rapid seemed impossible. We finally concluded it might
be run by shooting up, stern first, on a sloping rock near
the shore, then return as the current recoiled and ran
back, dividing on either side of the rock. The only
clear channel was one about twelve feet wide, between
this rock and the shore. A projecting shore above pre-
vented a direct entrance to this channel.

We threw logs in and watched their action. In each
case they paused when within five or six feet of the top
of the slope, then returned with the current, whirled
back to the side and shot through close to the shore.
We planned to go through as close together as possible.
Emery was ready first, I held back in a protecting pool,
waiting for him to get out of the way. He got his posi-
tion, facing stern downstream, gave the slightest shove
forward, and the released boat whizzed down for fifty
feet and ran up on the rock. She paused a moment, as
the water prepared to return. He gave two quick pulls,
shooting back again, slightly to the right, until he struck
the narrow channel, then reversed his course and went
through stern first exactly as we had planned it. The
square stern, buoyed up by the air-chamber, lifted the
boat out of the resulting wave as he struck the bottom of

A COMPANION VOYAGER 141

the descent. This much of the rapid had only taken a
few seconds.

I followed at once, but was not so fortunate. The
Defiance was carried to the left side, where some water
dropped over the side of the rock, instead of reversing.
I pulled frantically, seeing visions, meanwhile, of the
boat and myself being toppled off the side of the rock,
into the boulders and waves below. My rowing had no
effect whatever, but the boat was grabbed by the return-
ing wave and shot, as if from a catapult, back and
around to the right, through the sloping narrow channel,
— my returning course describing a half circle. Instead
of rising, the pointed bow cut down into the waves until
the water was on my shoulders. Emery turned his
head for an instant to see what success I was having, and
his boat was thrown on to a rock close to the shore. I
passed him and landed, just before going into the next
rapid. I then went back and helped him off the rock,
and he continued his course over the leaping waves. He
broke a rowlock before he landed, and had to use the
substitute we had hung beside it.

We found a good spot for a camp just above the
next rapid. Our tent was stretched in front of a large
boulder. A large pile of driftwood gave us all the fuel
needed, and we soon had a big fire going and our wet
clothes steaming on the line.

CHAPTER XIV

A PATIENT AMID THE CATARACTS

AN hour or so after making our camp, we began to
doubt the wisdom of our choice of a location, for a down-
pour of rain threatened to send a stream of water under
the tent. The stream was easily turned aside, while a
door and numerous boards found in the drift pile, made
a very good floor for the tent and lifted our sleeping
bags off the wet sand. We had little trouble in this sec-
tion to find sufficient driftwood for fires. The pile at
this camp was enormous, and had evidently been gather-
ing for years. Some of it, we could be sure, was recent,
for a large pumpkin was found deposited in the drift
pile twenty-five feet above the low-water stage on which
we were travelling. This pumpkin, of course, could only
have come down on the flood that had preceded us

What a mixture of curios some of those drift piles
were, and what a great stretch of country they repre-
sented ! The rivers, unsatisfied with washing away the
fertile soil of the upper country, had levied a greedy toll
on the homes along their banks, as well. Almost every-

142

A PATIENT AMID THE CATARACTS

thing that would float, belonging to a home, could be

found in some of them. There were pieces of furniture

and toilet articles, children's toys and harness, several

smashed boats had been seen, and bloated cattle as well.

A short distance above this camp we had found two cans

of white paint, carefully placed on top of a big rock above

the high-water mark, by some previous voyager.1 The

boats were beginning to show the effect of hard usage,

so we concluded to take the paint along. At another

point, this same day, we found a corked bottle containing

a faded note, undated, requesting the finder to write to

a certain lady in Delta, Colorado. A note in my journal,

beneath a record of this find, reads : "Aha ! A romance

at last!" Judging by the appearance of the note it

might have been thrown in many years before. Delta,

we knew, was on the Gunnison River, a tributary of the

Grand River. The bottle must have travelled over two

hundred miles to reach this spot.

A letter which I sent out later brought a prompt
answer, with the information that this bottle and four
others with similar notes were set adrift by the writer
and four of her schoolmates, nearly two years before.
An agreement was made that the one first receiving an
answer was to treat the others to a dinner. Our find
was the second, so this young lady was a guest instead
of the host.

1 Left by the Stone expedition. ]

144 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

Emery took but little interest in our camp arrange-
ments this evening, and went to bed as soon as it was
possible for him to do so. He said little, but he was
very weak, and I could tell from his drawn face that he
was suffering, and knew that it was nothing but nervous
energy that kept him at his work — that, and a promise
which he ;had made to build a fire, within a stated time
now less than two weeks away, in Bright Angel Creek
Canyon, nearly three hundred miles below this camp,
a signal to his wife and baby that he would be home
the next day. I was worried about his condition and I
feared a fever or pneumonia. For two or three days he
had not been himself. It was one thing to battle with
the river when well and strong ; it would be decidedly
different if one of us became seriously ill.

For the first time in all our experiences together,
where determination and skill seemed necessary to
success, I had taken the lead during the past two
days, feeling that my greater weight and strength,
perhaps, would help me pull out of danger where
he might fail. In two or three rapids I felt sure
he did not have the strength to pull away from certain
places that would smash the boats. After running the
Defiance through these rapids I suggested to him that
he would take a picture while I brought the Edith down.
He would stay near the Defiance, ready to aid in case of
emergency. After being once through a rapid I found it
quite a simple matter to run the second boat, and the

A PATIENT AMID THE CATARACTS 145

knowledge that he would save me in case of an upset
greatly lessened any danger that might have existed.
He was too nervous to sleep, and asked me to take
a last look at the boats before going to bed. They
were pulled well up on the shore and securely tied, I
found, so that it would take a flood to tear them loose.
The rain, which had stopped for a while, began again as
I rolled into the blankets ; the fire, fed with great cotton-
wood logs, threw ghostly shadows on the cliffs which
towered above us, and sputtered in the rain but refused
to be drowned ; while the roar of rapids, Nos. 22 and
23 combined, thundered and reverberated from wall to
wall, and finally lulled us to sleep.

The rain continued all night, but the weather cleared
in the morning. Emery felt much the same as he had
the day before, so we kept the same camp that day. We
took some pictures, and made a few test developments,
hanging the dark-room, or tent, inside the other tent for
want of a better place to tie to.

Sunday, October the 29th, we remained at the same
place, and by evening were both greatly benefited by
the rest. On Monday morning we packed up again,
leaving only the moving-picture camera out, and pic-
tured each other, alternately, as the boats made the
plunge over the steep descent in rapid No. 23. Both
boats disappeared from sight on two or three occasions
in this rapid and emerged nearly filled with water.

146 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

The section just passed is credited with the greatest
descent on the rivers, a fall of 75 feet in f of a mile.
This includes the three rapids: Nos. 21, 22, and 23.

Proceeding on our way the canyon narrowed, going
up almost sheer to a height of 2500 feet or over. Segre-
gated spires, with castle-like tops, stood out from the
upper walls. The rapids, or cataracts, compared well
with those passed above, connected in some instances
by swift-rushing water instead of the quiet pools which
were usually found between the rapids. We ran ten
rapids this day, but several of these which were counted
as one were a series of two or three rapids, which might
be one in high water. All had a shore on one side or the
other, but caution was imperative when crossing in the
swift water between the rapids. A mishap here meant
destruction. We figured that we had travelled about
ten miles for this day's run.

The menacing walls continued to go higher with the
next day's travel, until they reached a height of 2700
feet. The left wall was so sheer that it almost
seemed to overhang. The little vegetation which we
had found on the lower slope gradually disappeared as
the walls grew steeper, but a few scattered shrubs, sage-
brush, and an occasional juniper grew on the rocky sides,
or in one or two side canyons which entered from the
south. These side canyons had the appearance of run-
ning back for considerable distances, but we did not ex-

A PATIENT AMID THE CATARACTS 147

plore any of them and could tell very little about them
from the river.

After our noon lunch this day, in order to keep our
minds from dwelling too much on the rather depressing
surroundings, we proposed having a little sport. On two
or three occasions we had made motion pictures from the
deck of the boats as we rowed in the quiet water; here
we proposed taking a picture from the boats as we went
over the rapids. The two boats were fastened stern
to stern, so that the rowing would be done from the first
boat. My brother sat on the bow behind with the
motion-picture camera in front of him, holding it down
with his chin, his legs clinging to the sides of the boat,
with his left hand clutching at the hatch cover, and with
his right hand free to turn the crank. In this way we
passed over two small rapids. After that one experience
we never tried it in a large rapid. As Smith had said a
few days before the boat bucked like a broncho, and
Emery had a great deal of difficulty to stay with the
boat, to say nothing of taking a picture. Once or twice
he was nearly unseated but pluckily hung on and kept
turning away at the crank when it looked as if he and
the camera would be dumped into the river.

At one point in the lower end of Cataract Canyon we
saw the name and date A. G. Turner, '07. Below this,
close to the end of the canyon, were some ruins of cliff
dwellings, and a ladder made by white men, placed
against the walls below the ruins.

148 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

On reaching a very deep, narrow canyon entering
from the south, locally known as Dark Canyon, we knew
that we were nearing the end of the rapids in Cataract
Canyon. Dark Canyon extends a great distance back
into the country, heading in the mountains we had seen
to the south, when we climbed out at the junction of
the Green and the Grand. Pine cones and other growths
entirely foreign to the growth of the desert region were
found near its mouth. A flood had recently filled the
bottom of this narrow canyon to a depth of several
feet, but the water had settled down again and left a
little stream of clear water running through the boul-
ders. The rapid at the end of this canyon was one
of the worst of the entire series, and had been the
scene of more than one fatality, we had been told. It
had a very difficult approach and swung against the
right wall, then the water was turned abruptly to the
left by a great pile of fallen boulders. The cresting
waves looked more like breakers of the ocean than
anything we had seen on the river.

We each had a good scare as we ran this rapid.
Emery was completely hidden from my view, he was
nearly strangled and blinded by the waves for a few
seconds while struggling in the maelstrom; the Edith
was dropped directly on top of a rock in the middle
of this rapid, then lifted on the next wave. I also
had a thrilling experience but avoided the rock. In

A PATIENT AMID THE CATARACTS 149

the lower part of the rapid a rowlock pulled apart;
and to prevent the boat from turning sideways in the
rapid, I threw up my knee, holding the oar against it
for a lever until I was in quieter water, and could get
the other rowlock in position.

Separated from my brother in this instance, I had
an opportunity to see the man and water conflict, with a
perspective much as it would have appeared to a spec-
tator happening on the scene. I was out of the heat of
the battle. The excitement and indifference to danger
that comes with a hand-to-hand grapple was gone. I
heard the roar of the rapid ; a roar so often heard that
we forgot it was there. I saw the gloom of the great
gorge, and the towering, sinister shafts of rock, weakened
with cracks, waiting for the moment that would send
them crashing to the bottom. I saw the mad, wild water
hurled at the curving wall. Jagged rocks, like the
bared fangs of some dream-monster, appeared now and
then in the leaping, tumbling waves. Then down
toward the turmoil — dwarfed to nothingness by the
magnitude of the walls — sped the tiny shell-like boat,
running smoothly like a racing machine ! There was
no rowing. The oar-blades were tipped high to avoid
loss in the first comber; then the boat was buried in
the foam, and staggered through on the other side. It
was buffeted here and there, now covered with a ton of
water, now topping a ten-foot wave. Like a skilled

150 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

boxer — quick of eye, and ready to seize any temporary
advantage — the oarsman shot in his oars for two quick
strokes, to straighten the boat with the current or dodge
a threatening boulder ; then covered by lifting his oars
and ducking his head as a brown flood rolled over him.
Time and again the manoeuvre was repeated : now here,
now there. One would think the chances were about
one to a hundred that he would get through. But by
some sort of a system, undoubtedly aided, many times, by
good luck, the man and his boat won to land.

After running a small rapid, we came to another, in
the centre of which was an island, — the last rapid in
Cataract Canyon. While not as bad as the one
at Dark Canyon it was rather difficult, and at
this point we found no shore on either side. The
south side was rendered impassable by great boulders,
much higher than the river level, which were scattered
through the channel. The opposite channel began much
like the rapid at Dark Canyon, sweeping under the wall
until turned by a bend and many fallen rocks below the
end of the island, then crossed with a line of cresting
waves to the opposite side, where it was joined by the
other stream, and the left wall was swept clean in like
manner. We ran it by letting our boats drop into the
stream, but pulled away from the wall and kept close to
the island, then when its end was reached crossed the
ridge of waves and pulled for the right-hand shore. In

A PATIENT AMID THE CATARACTS 151

such rapids as this we often found the line of waves in
the swift-rushing centre to be several feet higher than the
water along the shore.

Then our thoughts reverted to Smith. What would
he do when he came to this rapid ? The only escape was
a narrow sloping ledge on the right side, beginning close
to the water some distance above the rapid, reaching a
height of sixty or seventy feet above the water at the
lower end, while a descent could be made to the river
some distance below here. It would be possible for him to
climb over this with his provisions, but the idea of taking
his boat up there was entirely out of the question, and,
poorly equipped as he was, an attempt to run it would
surely end in disaster. The breaking of an oar, the loss
of a rowlock, or the slightest knock of his rotten boat
against a rock, and Smith's fate would be similar to those
others whose bones lay buried in the sands.

In the next four miles we had no more rapids, but had
some fine travelling on a very swift river. It was getting
dusk, but we pulled away, for just ahead of us was the
end of Cataract Canyon. We camped by a large side
canyon on the left named Mille Crag Bend, with a great
number of jagged pinnacles gathered in a group at the
top of the walls, which had dropped down to a height of
about 1300 feet. We felt just a little proud of our achieve-
ment, and believed we had established a record for Cata-
ract Canyon, having run all rapids in four days' travelling,
and come through in safety.

152 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

We had one rapid to run the next morning at the
beginning of Narrow Canyon, the only rapid in this nine-
mile long canyon. The walls here at the beginning were
twelve or thirteen hundred feet high, and tapered to the
end, where they rise about four hundred feet above the
Dirty Devil River. Narrow Canyon contains the longest
straight stretch of river which we remembered having
seen. When five miles from its mouth we could look
through and see the snow-capped peak of Mt. Ellsworth
beyond. This peak is one of the five that composes the
Henry Mountains, which lay to the north of the river.

Three hours' rowing brought us to the end. We
paused a few minutes to make a picture or two of the
Dirty Devil River, — or the Fremont River as it is now
recorded on the maps. This stream, flowing from the
north, was the exact opposite of the Bright Angel Creek,
that beautiful stream we knew so well, two hundred and
fifty miles below this point. The Dirty Devil was muddy
and alkaline, while warm springs containing sulphur and
other minerals added to its unpalatable taste. After
tasting it we could well understand the feeling of the
Jack Sumner, whose remark, after a similar trial, suggested
its name to Major Powell.

A short distance below this we saw a tent, and found
it occupied by an old-timer named Kimball. Among
other things he told us that he had a partner, named
Turner, who had made the trip through the canyons

BEGINNING OF A NATURAL BRIDGE. GLEN CANYON.

A PATIENT AMID THE CATARACTS 153

above, and arrived at this point in safety. This was the
man whose name we had seen on the walls in Cataract
Canyon. Less than two miles more brought us to the
Kite ranch, and post-office. John Kite gave us a cordial
reception. He had known of our coming from the news-
papers ; besides, he had some mail for us. We spent the
balance of the day in writing letters, and listening to
Kite's interesting experiences of his many years of resi-
dence in this secluded spot. Kite's home had been a
haven for the sole survivor of two expeditions which had
met with disaster in Cataract. In each case they were
on the verge of starvation. Hite kept a record of all
known parties who had attempted the passage through
the canyons above. Less than half of these parties,
excepting Galloway's several successful trips, succeeded
in getting through Cataract Canyon without wrecking
boats or losing lives.

After passing the Fremont River the walls on the
right or north side dropped down, leaving low, barren
sandstone hills rolling away from the river, with a fringe
of willows and shrubs beside the water, and with the
usual sage-brush, prickly pear, cactus and bunch-
grass on the higher ground. We had seen one broken-
down log cabin, but this ranch was the only extensive
piece of ground that was cultivated. Judging by the
size of his stacks of alfalfa, Hite had evidently had
a good season. The banks of the south side of the

154 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

river were about two hundred feet high, composed of
a conglomerate mass of clay and gravel. This spot
has long been a ferry crossing, known far and wide
as Dandy Crossing, the only outlet across the river
for the towns of southeastern Utah, along the San Juan
River. The entire 150 miles of Glen Canyon had once
been the scene of extensive placer operations. The boom
finally died, a few claims only proving profitable.

One of these claims was held by Bert Loper, one of
the three miners who had gone down the river in 1908.
Loper never finished, as his boat — a steel boat, by the
way — was punctured in a rapid above Dark Canyon
but was soon repaired. His cameras and plates being
lost, he sent from Kite out for new ones. His com-
panions— Chas. Russell, and E. R. Monette — were
to wait for him at Lee's Ferry, after having pros-
pected through Glen Canyon. Some mistake was made
about the delivery of the cameras and, as Hite post-
office only had weekly communication with the railroad,
a month elapsed before he finally secured them. Lee's
Ferry had been discontinued as a post-office at that time,
and, although he tried to get a letter in to them, it was
never delivered. His disappointment can be imagined
better than described, when he reached Lee's Ferry and
found his companions had left just a few days previous.
They naturally thought if he were coming at all he would
have been there long before that, and they gave him up,

A PATIENT AMID THE CATARACTS 155

not knowing the cause of the delay. They left a letter,
however, saying they would only go to the Bright Angel
Trail, and the trip could be completed together on the
following year.

Loper spent many hard days working his boat, with
his load of provisions, back against the current, and
located a few miles below the Hite ranch.

CHAPTER XV

PLACER GOLD

WE passed Loper's claim after resuming our journey
the next day. His workings were a one-man proposi-
tion and very ingenious. We found a tunnel in the gravel
a hundred feet above the river, and some distance back
from the river bank. A track of light rails ran from
the river bank to these workings ; the gravel and sand
was loaded into a car, and hauled or pushed to the
bank, then dumped into a chute, which sent it down to
the river's edge.

Loper was not at his work however, neither did we
find him at his ranch, a mile down the river. He had
a neat little place, with fruit trees and a garden, a horse
or two, and some poultry. After resuming our rowing,
when about a mile down the river, some one called to us
from the shore, and Loper himself came running down
to meet us. John Hite had requested us to stop and see
his brother, Cass Hite, who owned a ranch and placer
working nearly opposite where Loper had halted us ; so

156

PLACER GOLD 157

Loper crossed with us, as he was anxious to know of our
passage through the canyons.

We found, in Cass Hite, an interesting "old-timer,"
one who had followed the crowd of miners and pioneers,
in the West, since the discovery of gold on the coast. He
was the discoverer of the White Canyon Natural Bridges,
of Southern Utah, located between this point and the
San Juan River, and had been the first to open the ferry
at Dandy Crossing. Hite had prospected Navajo Moun-
tain, southwest of this point, in the early sixties, about
the time of the Navajos' trouble with the United States
army, under the leadership of Kit Carson, who dislodged
them from their strongholds in the mountains after many
others had failed. Hite's life was saved on more than
one occasion by warnings from a friendly chief, or head
man of the Western Navajos, known as Hoskaninni,
who regarded him as a brother, and bestowed on him the
name, Hosteen pes'laki,? meaning "Silver man." He is
still known by this name, and refers to his pretty ranch
as Tick a Bo, a Ute word for "friendly." Hite proudly
quoted a poem written by Cy Warman about the theme
of the Indian's regard for his white friend. Warman
had followed the crowd in to this spot at the time of
the boom, looking for local colour — human local colour,
not the glitter in the sands. It was at John Hite's home
where Warman had composed the one time popular song,
" Sweet Marie." It would be safe to say that he brought

158 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

his inspiration with him, for this was decidedly a man's
country. We were told that it had only been visited by
one woman in the past twelve years. Hite insisted on
our remaining until the following morning, and we con-
cluded that the rest would do us good. He loaded us up
with watermelons, and with raisins, which he was curing
at that time. We spent a pleasant afternoon under a
shaded arbour, listening to his reminiscences, and munch-
ing at the raisins.

That evening Loper told us his story of their canyon
expedition. He felt a little bitter about some newspaper
reports that had been published concerning this expedi-
tion, these reports giving the impression that his nerve
had failed him, and that for this reason he had not con-
tinued on the journey. We mollified his feelings some-
what, when we told him that his companions were not
responsible for these reports ; but rather, that short tele-
graphic reports, sent out from the Grand Canyon, had been
misconstrued by the papers ; and that this accounted for
the stories which had appeared. His companions had
remained at the Grand Canyon for two days following
their arrival at Bright Angel Trail. They gave Loper
credit, to our certain knowledge, of being the only one
of the party who knew how to handle the boats in rough
water when they began the trip, and had stated that he
ran all the boats through certain rapids until they caught
the knack. They could not know of his reasons for the

PLACER GOLD 159

delay, and at that time had no knowledge of his arrival
at Lee's Ferry, after they had gone. Naturally they were
very much puzzled over his non-appearance.

It got quite cold that night, and we were glad to have
the shelter of Kite's hospitable roof. In our trip down
the river to this point we had seemed to keep even with
the first cold weather. In all places where it was open,
we would usually find a little ice accompanied by frost
in the mornings, or if no ice had frozen the grass would
be wet with dew. In the canyons there was little or no
ice, and the air was quite dry. Naturally we preferred
the canyons if we had a choice of camps.

Loper looked as though he would like to accompany
us as we pulled away the next morning, after having
landed him on the south side of the stream. We, at
least, had full confidence in his nerve to tackle the lower
Colorado, after his record in Cataract Canyon. The five
scattered peaks of the Henry Mountains were now to
the north-northwest of us, rugged and snow-capped,
supreme in their majesty above this desolate region.

Signs of an ancient Indian race were plentiful in this
section. There were several small cliif dwellings, walled
up in ledges in the rocks, a hundred feet or so above a
low flat which banked the river. At another place there
were hundreds of carvings on a similar wall which over-
hung a little. Drawings of mountain-sheep were
plentiful; there was one representing a human figure

160 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

with a bow and arrow, and with a sheep standing on the
arrow — their way of telling that he got the sheep, no
doubt. There were masked figures engaged in a dance,
not unlike some of the Hopi dances of to-day, as they
picture them. There were geometrical figures, and
designs of many varieties. A small rock building half
covered with sand and the accumulations of many years
stood at the base of the cliff ; and quantities of broken
pottery were scattered about the ruin. Farther down
the river a pathway was worn into the sandstone where
countless bare and moccasined feet had toiled, and
climbed over the sloping wall to the mesa above. The
ruins in this section were not extensive, like those found
in the tributary canyons of the San Juan River, for in-
stance, not a very great distance from here. Possibly
this people stopped here as they travelled back and forth,
trading with their cousins to the north ; or the dwellings
may have been built by the scattered members of the
tribe, when their strongholds were assailed by the more
warlike tribes that crowded in on them from all sides.
What a story these cliffs could tell ! What a romance
they could narrate of various tribes, as distinct from
each other as the nations of Europe, crowding each
other; and at the last of this inoffensive race, coming
from the far south, it may be ; driven from pillar to post,
making their last stand in this desert land ; to perish of
pestilence, or to be almost exterminated by the blood-

PLACER GOLD l6l

thirsty tribes that surrounded them — then again, when
the tide changed, and a new type of invader travelled
from the east, pushing ever to the west, conquering all
before them ! But like the sphinx, the cliffs are silent
and voiceless as the hillocks and sand-dunes along the
Nile, that other desert stream, with a history no more
ancient and momentous than this.

That night we camped opposite the ruins of a dredge,
sunk in the low water at the edge of the river. This
dredge had once represented the outlay of a great deal of
money. It is conceded by nearly all experts that the
sands of these rivers contain gold, but it is of such
a fine grain — what is known as flour gold — and the
expense of saving it is so great, that it has not paid
when operated on such a large scale. A few placers in
Glen Canyon have paid individual operators, some of
these claims being in gravel deposits from six hundred to
eight hundred feet above the present level of the river.

On the following day we again entered deep canyon;
sheer for several hundred feet, creamy white above, with
a dark red colour in the lower sandstone walls. That
afternoon we passed a small muddy stream flowing from
the north, in a narrow, rock-walled canyon. This was
the Escalante River, a stream rising far to the north,
named for one of the Spanish priests who had travelled
this country, both to the north and the south of this
point, as early as the year 1776, about the time when

1 62 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

the New England colonists were in the midst of their
struggle with the mother country.

Just below the Escalante River, the canyon turned
almost directly south, continuing in this general direc-
tion for several miles. A glimpse or two was had of the top
of a tree-covered snow-capped peak directly ahead of us,
or a little to the southwest. This could be none other
than Navajo Mountain, a peak we could see from the
Grand Canyon, and had often talked of climbing, but
debated if we could spare the time, now that we were
close to it.

In all this run through Glen Canyon we had a good
current, but only one place resembling a rapid. Here,
below the Escalante, it was very quiet, and hard pulling
was necessary to make any headway. We were anxious
to reach the San Juan River that evening, but the days
were growing short, and we were still many miles away
when it began to grow dusk ; so we kept a lookout for
a suitable camp. The same conditions that had bothered
us on one or two previous occasions were found here ;
slippery, muddy banks, and quicksand, together with an
absence of firewood. We had learned before this to
expect these conditions where the water was not swift.
The slower stream had a chance to deposit its silt, and
if the high water had been very quiet, we could expect to
find it soft, or boggy. In the canyons containing swift
water and rapids we seldom found mud, but found a

PLACER GOLD 163

clean, firm sand, instead. Here in Glen Canyon we had
plenty of mud, for the river had been falling the last few
days. Time and again we inspected seemingly favourable
places, only to be disappointed. The willows and dense
shrubbery came down close to the river ; the mud was
black, deep, and sticky; all driftwood had gone out on
the last flood. Meanwhile a glorious full moon had
risen, spreading a soft, weird light over the canyon
walls and the river; so that we now had a light much
better than the dusk of half an hour previous, our course
being almost due south. Finally, becoming discouraged,
we decided to pull for the San Juan River, feeling sure
that we would find a sand-bar there. It was late when
we reached it, and instead of a sand-bar we found a delta
of bottomless mud. We had drifted past the point where
the rivers joined, before noticing that the stream turned
directly to the west, with canyon walls two or three hun-
dred feet high, and no moonlight entered there. In-
stead, it was black as a dungeon. From down in that
darkness there came a muffled roar, reverberating against
the walls, and sounding decidedly like a rapid. There
was not a minute to lose. We pulled, and pulled hard —
for the stream was now quite swift close to the right
shore, and a sheer bank of earth about ten feet high
made it difficult to land. Jumping into the mud at the
edge of the water, we tied the boats to some bushes,
then tore down the bank and climbed out on a dry,

1 64 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

sandy point of land. At the end or sharp turn of the
sheer wall we found a fair camp, with driftwood enough
for that night. Emery, weak from his former illness
and the long day's run, went to bed as soon as we had
eaten a light supper. I looked after the cooking that
evening, making some baking-powder bread, — other-
wise known as a flapjack, — along with other arrange-
ments for the next day ; but I fear my efforts as a cook
always resulted rather poorly.

We had breakfast at an early hour the next morning,
and were ready for the boats at 7.15, the earliest start
to our record. Our rapid of the night before proved to
be a false alarm, being nothing more than the breaking
of swift water as it swept the banks of rocks at the turn.
It was quite different from what we had pictured in our
minds.

We had long looked forward to this day. Navajo
Mountain, with bare, jagged sides and tree-covered dome,
was located just a few miles below this camp. It was a
sandstone mountain peak, towering 7000 feet above the
river, the steep slope beginning some five or six miles
back from the stream. The base on which it rested was
of sandstone, rounded and gullied into curious forms, a
warm red and orange colour predominating. The north
side, facing the river, was steep of slope, covered with
the fragments of crumbled cliffs and with soft cream-
tinted pinnacles rising from its slope. The south side,

PLACER GOLD 165

we had reason to believe, was tree-covered from top to
bottom ; the north side held only a few scattered cedar
and pifion. We had often seen the hazy blue dome from
the Grand Canyon, one hundred and twenty miles away,
and while it was fifty miles farther by the river, we felt
as if we were entered on the home stretch ; as if we were
in a country with which we were somewhat familiar.

The Colorado and the San Juan rivers form the
northern boundary of the Navajo Indian Reservation,
comprising a tract of land as large as many Eastern states,
extending over a hundred miles, both east and west
from this point. Embodied in this reservation, and
directly opposite our camp, was a small section of rugged
land set aside for some Utes, who had friendly dealings,
and who had intermarried with the Navajo. But if we
expected to find the Navajo, or Utes on the shore, ready
to greet us, we were doomed to disappointment.

We explored a few side canyons this morning,
hoping to find a spot where some of Major Powell's
party — particularly those men who were afterwards
killed by the Indians — had chiselled their names, which
record we were told was to be found near the San Juan,
but on which side we were not sure. While in one of
these canyons, or what was really nothing more than a
crooked overhanging slit in the rocks, containing a
small stream, Emery found himself in some soft
quicksand, plunged instantly above his knees, and

1 66 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

sinking rapidly. He would have had a difficult time in
getting out of this quicksand without help, for a smooth
rock wall was on one side, the other bank of the stream
was sheer above him for a few feet, and there was nothing
solid which he could reach. We had seen a great deal of
quicksand before this, but nothing of this treacherous
nature. Usually we could walk quickly over these sands,
without any danger of being held in them, or if caught —
while lifting on a boat for instance — had no difficulty in
getting out. When once out of this canyon we gave up
our search for the carved record.

But it was not the hope of shortening our homeward
run, or the prospect of meeting Indians on the shores,
or of finding historical records, even, that caused us to
make this early start. It was the knowledge that the
wonderful Rainbow Natural Bridge, recently discovered,
and only visited by three parties of whites, lay hidden
in one of the side canyons that ran from the north slope
of Navajo Mountain. No one had gone into it from the
river, but we were told it could be done. We hoped
to find this bridge.

The current was swift, and we travelled fast, in spite
of a stiff wind which blew up the stream, getting a very
good view of the mountain from the river a few miles
below our camp, and another view of the extreme top,
a short distance below this place, not over six miles from
the San Juan. We had directions describing the canyon

PLACER GOLD 167

in which the bridge was located, our informant surmising
that it was thirty miles below the San Juan. We thought
it must be less than that, for the river was very direct
at this place, and a person travelling over the extremely
rough country which surrounded this side of the mountain
slope would naturally have to travel much farther, so
we began to look for it about twelve miles below camp.
But mile after mile went by without any sign of the
landmarks that would tell us we were at the "Bridge
Canyon." Then the river, which had circled the northern
side of the peak, turned directly away from it, and we
knew that we had missed the bridge. At no point on
the trip had we met with a disappointment to equal that ;
even the loss of our moving-picture film, after our spill
in Lodore, was small when compared with it.

On looking back over the lay of the land, we felt
sure that the bridge was at one of the two places, where
we had seen the top of the mountain from the river.
To go back against the current would take at least three
days. Our provisions were limited in quantity and
would not permit it; the canyon had deepened, and a
second bench of sheer cliffs rose above the plateau,
making it impossible to climb out : so we concluded to
make the best of it, and pulled down the stream, trying
to put as many miles as possible between ourselves and
our great disappointment. This afternoon we passed
from Utah into Arizona. For the remainder of the trip

1 68 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

we would have Arizona on one side of the river at least.
We had much the same difficulty this evening as we had
had the night before in finding a camp. Judging by the
evidence along the shore, the high water which came down
the San Juan had been a torrent, much greater than
the flood on the Colorado and its upper tributaries.

RAINBOW NATURAL BRIDGE BETWEEN THE COLORADO RIVER AND NAVAJO
MOUNTAIN. HEIGHT THREE HUNDRED AND EIGHT FEET; SPAN TWO HUNDRED
AND SEVENTY FEET. NOTE FIGURE ON TOP. PHOTO BY KOLB BROTHERS, SEP-
TEMBER, 1913.

CHAPTER XVI

A WARNING

WE camped that night at the Ute Ford, or the Crossing
of the Fathers ; a noted landmark of bygone days, when
Escalante (in 1776) and others later followed the inter-
tribal trails across these unfriendly lands. Later maraud-
ing Navajo used this trail, crossing the canyon to the
north side, raiding the scattered Mormon settlements,
bringing their stolen horses, and even sheep, down this
canyon trail. Then they drove them across on a frozen
river, and escaped with them to their mountain fastness.
The Mormons finally tired of these predatory visits, and
shut off all further loss from that source by blasting off a
great ledge at the north end of the trail. This ruined the
trail beyond all hope of repair, and there is no travel
at present over the old Ute Crossing. The fording of
the river on horseback was effected by dropping down to
the river through a narrow side canyon, and crossing to
the centre on a shoal, then following a centre shoal down
for quite a distance, and completing the crossing at a low

169

170 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

point on the opposite side. This was only possible at
the very lowest stage of water.

The morning following our arrival here, we walked
about a mile up the gravelly slope on the south side, to
see if we could locate the pass by which the trail dropped
down over these 3ocx>foot walls. The canyon had
changed in appearance after leaving the mountain, and
now we had a canyon ; smaller, but not unlike the Grand
Canyon in appearance, with an inner plateau, and a
narrow canyon at the river, while the walls on top were
several miles apart, and towering peaks or buttes rose
from the plateau, reaching a height almost equal to the
walls themselves. The upper walls were cream-tinted
or white sandstone, the lower formation was a warm
red sandstone. We could not discover the pass without
a long walk to the base of the upper cliffs, so returned
to the boats.

About this time we heard shots, seeming to come from
some point down the river, and on the north side. Later
a dull hollow sound was heard like pounding on a great
bass drum. We could not imagine what it was, but knew
that it must be a great distance away. We had noticed
instances before this, where these smooth, narrow canyons
had a great magnifying effect on noises. In the section
above the San Juan, where the upper walls overhung a little,
a loud call would roll along for minutes before it finally
died. A shot from a revolver sounded as if the cliffs
were falling.

A WARNING 171

Our run this morning was delightful. The current
was the best on which we had travelled. The channel
swung from side to side, in great half circles, with most of
the water thrown against the outside bank, or wall, with
a five- or six-mile an hour current close to the wall. We
took advantage of all this current, hugging the wall,
with the stern almost touching, and with the bow pointed
out so we would not run into the walls or scrape our oars.
Then, when it seemed as if our necks were about to be
permanently dislocated, from looking over one shoulder,
the river would reverse its curve, the channel would cross
to the other side, and we would give that side of our necks
a rest* Once in a great while I would bump a rock, and
would look around sheepishly, to see if my brother had
seen me do it. I usually found him with a big grin on
his face, if he happened to be ahead of me.

We rowed about twenty miles down the river before
we learned what had caused the noises heard in the
morning. On rounding a turn we saw the strange spec-
tacle of fifteen or twenty men at work on the half-con-
structed hull of a flat-bottomed steamboat, over sixty
feet in length. This boat was on the bank quite a dis-
tance above the water, with the perpendicular walls of a
crooked side canyon rising above it. It was a strange
sight, here in this out-of-the-way corner of the world.
Some men with heavy sledges were under the boat, driving
large spikes into the planking. This was the noise we
had heard that morning.

172 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

The blasting, we learned later, was at some coal
mines, several miles up this little canyon, which bore
the name of Warm Creek Canyon. A road led down
through the canyon, making it possible to haul the lumber
for the boat, clear to the river's edge. The nearest rail-
road was close to two hundred miles from this place,
quite a haul considering the ruggedness of the country.
The material for the boat had been shipped from San
Francisco, all cut, ready to put together. The vessel
was to be used to carry coal down the river, to a dredge
that had recently been installed at Lee's Ferry.

The dinner gong had just sounded when we landed,
and we were taken along with the crowd. There were
some old acquaintances in this group of men, we found,
from Flagstaff, Arizona. These men had received a
Flagstaff paper which had published a short note we had
sent from Green River, Utah. They had added a com-
ment that no doubt this would be the last message we
would have an opportunity to send out. Very cheering
for Emery's wife, no doubt. Fortunately she shared our
enthusiasm, and if she felt any apprehension her few
letters failed to show it.

We resumed our rowing at once after dinner, for we
wished to reach Lee's Ferry, twenty-five miles distant,
that evening. We had a good current, and soon left our
friends behind us. We pulled with a will, and mile after
mile was covered in record time, for our heavy boats.

A WARNING 173

The walls continued to get higher as we neared our
goal, going up sheer close to the river. We judged the
greatest of these walls to be about eleven hundred feet
high. After four hours of steady pulling we began to
weary, for ours were no light loads to propel ; but we were
spurred to renewed effort by hearing the sounds of an
engine in the distance. On rounding a turn we saw the
end of Glen Canyon ahead of us, marked by a breaking
down of the walls, and a chaotic mixture of dikes of rock,
and slides of brilliantly coloured shales, broken and tilted
in every direction. Just below this, close to a ferry, we
saw the dredge on the right side of the river. We were
quite close to the dredge before we were seen. Some
men paused at their work to watch us as we neared them,
one man calling to those behind him, "There come the
brothers ! "

A whistle blew announcing the end of their day's labour,
and of ours as well, as it happened. There was some
cheering and waving of hats. One who seemed to be the
foreman asked us to tie up to a float which served as a
landing for three motor boats, and a number of skiffs.
A loudly beaten triangle of steel announced that the
evening meal was ready at a stone building not far from the
dredge. We were soon seated at a long table with a lot
of others as hungry as we, partaking of a well-cooked
and substantial meal. We made arrangements to take
a few meals here, as we wished to overhaul our outfits
before resuming our journey.

174 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

The meal ended, we inquired for the post-office, and
were directed to a ranch building across the Paria River,
a small stream which entered from the north, not unlike
the Fremont River in size and appearance. Picking
our way in the darkness, on boulders and planks which
served as a crossing, we soon reached the building, set
back from the river in the centre of the ranch. A
man named Johnson, with his family, had charge of the
ranch and post-office as well. Mail is brought by carrier
from the south, a cross-country trip of 160 miles,
through the Hopi and Navajo Indian Reservations.

Johnson informed us that an old-time friend named
Dave Rust had waited here three or four days, hoping
to see us arrive, but business matters had forced him to
leave just the day before. We were very sorry to have
missed him. Rust lived in the little Mormon town of
Kanab, Utah, eighty miles north of the Grand Canyon
opposite our home. In addition to being a cattle man
and rancher, he had superintended the construction of a
cable crossing, or tramway, over the Colorado River,
beside the mouth of Bright Angel Creek, not many miles
from our home. He also maintains a cozy camp at this
place, for the accommodation of tourists and hunting par-
ties, which he conducts up Bright Angel Creek and
into the Kaibab Forest. It was while returning from
such a hunting trip that we first met Rust. Many are
the trips we have taken with him since then, Emery, with

A WARNING 175

his wife and the baby, even, making the "crossing"
and the eighty-mile horseback ride to his home in Kanab,
while I had continued on through to Salt Lake City.
Rust had been the first to tell us of Galloway and his
boating methods ; and had given us a practical demon-
stration on the river. Naturally there was no one we
would have been more pleased to see at that place,
than Rust.

In our mail we found a letter from him, stating, among
other things, that he had camped the night before on
the plateau, a few hundred feet above a certain big rapid,
well known through this section as the Soap Creek Rapid.
This locality is credited with being the scene of the first
fatality which overtook the Brown-Stanton expedition ;
Brown being upset and drowned in the next rapid which
followed, after having portaged the Soap Creek Rapid.
Rust wrote also that there was a shore along the rapid,
so there would be no difficulty in making the portage ; and
concluded by saying that he had a very impressive dream
about us that night, the second of its kind since we had
started on our journey.

We understood from this that he had certain mis-
givings about this rapid, and took his dream to be a sort
of a warning. Rust should have known us better.
With all the perversity of human nature that letter made
me want to run that rapid if it were possible. Why
not run the rapid, and get a moving picture as it was being

176 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

done. Then we could show Rust how well we had learned
our lesson ! So I thought as we returned to the buildings
near the dredge, but said nothing of what was in my mind
to Emery, making the mental reservation that I would
see the rapid first and decide afterwards.

The foreman of the placer mines called us into his
office that evening, and suggested that it might be a good
plan to go over our boats thoroughly before we left,
and offered us the privilege of using their workshop,
with all its conveniences, for any needed repairs. He
also let us have a room in one of the buildings for our
photographic work.

This foreman mourned the loss of a friend who had
recently been drowned at the ferry. It seemed that the
floods which had preceded us, especially that part which
came down the San Juan River, had been something
tremendous, rising 45 feet at the ferry, where the river
was 400 feet wide ; and rising much higher in the narrow
portions of Glen Canyon. Great masses of driftwood
had floated down, looking almost like a continuous raft.
When the river had subsided somewhat, an attempt
was made to cross with the ferry. The foreman and
his friend, with two others, and a team of horses hitched
to a wagon, were on the ferry. When in midstream,
it overturned in the swollen current. Three of the men
escaped, the other man and the horses were drowned.

A careful search had been made for the body to a

A WARNING 177

point a few miles down the river, then the canyon
closed in and they could go no farther. The body was
never recovered. It is seldom that the Colorado River
gives up its dead. The heavy sands collect in the clothes,
and a body sinks much quicker than in ordinary water.
Any object lodged on the bottom is soon covered with a
sand-bar. The foreman knew this, of course ; yet he wished
us to keep a lookout for the body, which might, by some
chance, have caught on the shore, when the water re-
ceded. This was as little as any one would do, and we
gave him our promise to keep a careful watch.

CHAPTER XVII

A NIGHT OF THRILLS

WE declined the offer of a roof that night, preferring
to sleep in the open here, for the evening was quite warm.
We went to work the next morning when the whistle
sounded at the dredge. Beyond caulking a few leaks
in the boats, little was done with them. The tin re-
ceptacles holding our photographic plates and films were
carefully coated with a covering of melted parafHne ; for
almost anything might happen, in the one hundred miles
of rapid water that separated us from our home.

Lee's Ferry was an interesting place, both for its old
and its new associations. This had long been the home
of John D. Lee, well known for the part he took in the
Mountain Meadow Massacre, and for which he afterwards
paid the death penalty. Here Lee had lived for many
years, making few visits to the small settlements to the
north, but on one of these visits he was captured. There
were six or seven other buildings near the large stone build-
ing where we took our meals, so arranged that they made
a short street, the upper row being built against a cliff

178

A NIGHT OF THRILLS 179

of rock and shale, the other row being placed halfway
between this row and the river. These buildings were
all of rock, of which there was no lack, plastered with
adobe, or mud. One, we were told, had been Lee's
stronghold. It was a square building, with a few very
small windows, and with loopholes in the sides. At
the time of our visit it was occupied by two men ; one,
a young Englishman, recently arrived from South Africa
— a remittance-man, in search of novelty — the other
a grizzled forty-niner. Much could be written about
this interesting group of men, and their alluring employ-
ment. There were some who had followed this work
through all the camps of the West — to Colorado, to
California, and to distant Alaska as well, they had
journeyed ; but it is doubtful if, in all their wanderings,
they had seen any camp more strangely located than this,
hemmed in with canyon walls. To us, their dredge and
the steamboat up the river seemed as if they had been
taken from the pages of some romance, or bit of fiction,
and placed before us for our entertainment.

There were other men as well, just as interesting
in their way as the "old-timers," the sons of some of the
owners of this proposition, — clean-cut young fellows, —
working side by side with the veterans, as enthusiastic
as if on their college campus.

One feature about the dredge interested us greatly.
This was a tube, or sucker, held suspended by a derrick

l8o THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM, WYOMING TO MEXICO

above a float, and operated by compressed air. This
tube was dropped into the sand at the bottom of the river,
and would eat its way into it, bringing up rocks the size
of one's fist, along with the gravel and sand. In a
few hours a hole, ten or fifteen feet in depth and ten
feet in diameter, would be excavated. Then the tube
was raised, the float was moved, and the work started
again. The coarse sand and gravel, carried by a stream
of water, was returned to the river, after passing over
the riffles ; the screenings which remained passed over
square metal plates — looking like sheets of tin — covered
with quicksilver. These plates were cleaned with a
rubber window-cleaner, and the entire residue was
saved in a heavy metal pot, ready for the chemist.

One day only was needed for our work, and by evening
we were ready for the next plunge. We might have
enjoyed a longer stay with these men, but stronger than
this desire was our anxiety to reach our home, separated
from us by a hundred miles of river, no extended part
of the distance being entirely free from rapids. We
had written to the Grand Canyon, bidding them look
for our signal fire in Bright Angel Creek Canyon, in from
seven to ten days, and planned to leave on the following
morning. Nothing held us now except the hope that the
mail, which was due that evening, might bring us a letter,
although that was doubtful, for we were nearly a week
ahead of our schedule as laid out at Green River, Utah.

A NIGHT OF THRILLS l8l

As we had anticipated, there was no mail for us, so
we turned to inspect the mail carrier. He was a splendid
specimen of the Navajo Indian, — a wrestler of note
among his people, we were told, — large and muscular,
and with a peculiar springy, slouchy walk that gave one
the impression of great reserve strength. He had ridden
that day from Tuba, an agency on their reservation,
about seventy miles distant. This was the first sign
of an Indian that we had seen in this section, although
we had been travelling along the northern boundary of
their reservation since leaving the mouth of the San
Juan. These Indians have no use for the river, being
children of the desert, rather than of the water. Beyond
an occasional crossing and swimming their horses at
easy fords, they make no attempt at its navigation, even
in the quiet water of Glen Canyon.

Some of the men showed this Indian our boats, and
told him of our journey. He smiled, and shrugged
his massive shoulders as much as to say, he "would
believe it when he saw it." He had an opportunity to
see us start, at least, on the following morning.

Before leaving, we climbed a 3OO-foot mound on the
left bank of the Paria River, directly opposite the Lee
ranch. This mound is known as Lee's Lookout. Whether
used by Lee or not, it had certainly served that purpose
at some time. A circular wall of rock was built on top
of the mound, and commanded an excellent view of all

1 82 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

the approaches to the junction of the rivers. This spot
is of particular interest to the geologist, for a great fault,
indicated by the Vermilion Cliffs, marks the division
between Glen Canyon and Marble Canyon. This line
of cliffs extends to the south for many miles across the
Painted Desert, and north into Utah for even a greater
distance, varying in height from two hundred feet at
the southern end to as many thousand feet in some places
to the north. Looking to the west, we could see that here
was another of those sloping uplifts of rock, with the
river cutting down, increasing the depth of the canyon
with every mile.

We had now descended about 2900 feet since leaving
Green River City, Wyoming, not a very great fall for
the distance travelled if an average is taken, but a con-
siderable portion of the distance was on quiet water, as
we have noted, with a fall of a foot or two to the mile,
and with alternate sections only containing bad water.
We were still at an elevation of 3170 feet above the sea-
level, and in the 283 miles of canyon ahead of us —
Marble Canyon and the Grand Canyon combined — the
river descends 2330 feet, almost a continuous series of
rapids from this point to the end of the Grand Canyon.

After a hasty survey from our vantage point, we
returned to the river and prepared to embark. As we
left the dredge, the work was closed down for a few
minutes, and the entire crowd of men, about forty in

A NIGHT OF THRILLS 183

number, stood on an elevation to watch us run the first
rapid. The Indian had crossed to the south side of the
river to feed his horse and caught a glimpse of us as we
went past him. Running pell-mell down to his boat,
he crossed the river and joined the group on the bank.
About this time we were in the grip of the first rapid, a
long splashy one, with no danger whatever, but large
enough to keep us busy until we had passed from view.

A few miles below this, after running a pair of small
rapids, we reached a larger one, known as the Badger
Creek Rapid, with a twenty-foot drop in the first 250
feet, succeeded by a hundred yards of violent water.
Emery had a little difficulty in this rapid, when his boat
touched a rock which turned the boat sideways in the
current, and he was nearly overturned in the heavy waves
which followed. As it was, we were both drenched.

About the middle of the afternoon, twelve miles below
Lee's Ferry, we reached the Soap Creek Rapid of which
we had heard so much. The rapid had a fall of twenty-
five feet, and was a quarter of a mile long. Most, of the
fall occurred in the first fifty yards. The river had
narrowed down until it was less than two hundred feet
wide at the beginning of the descent. Many rocks were
scattered all through the upper end, especially at the
first drop. On the very brink or edge of the first fall,
there was a submerged rock in the centre of the channel,
making an eight-foot fall over the rock. A violent

1 84 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

current, deflected from the left shore, shot into this
centre and added to the confusion. Twelve-foot waves,
from the conflicting currents, played leap-frog, jumping
over or through each other alternately. Clearly there
was no channel on that side. On the right or north side
of the stream it looked more feasible, as the water shot
down a sloping chute over a hundred feet before meeting
with an obstruction. This came in the shape of two
rocks, one about thirty feet below the other. To run the
rapid this first rock would have to be passed before
any attempt could be made to pull away from the
second rock, which was quite close to the shore.
Once past that there was a clear channel to the end of
the rapid, if the centre, which contained many rocks,
was avoided. Below the rapid was the usual whirlpool,
then a smaller rapid, running under the left wall. This
second rapid was the one that had been so fatal for
Brown. The Soap Creek rapid in many ways was not
as bad as some we had gone over in Cataract Canyon,
but there were so many complications that we hesitated
a long time before coming to a decision that we would
make an attempt with one boat, depending on our good
luck which had brought us through so many times, as
much as we depended on our handling of the boat.

It was planned that I should make the first attempt,
while Emery remained with the motion-picture camera
just below the rock that we most feared, with the agree-

A NIGHT OF THRILLS 185

ment that he was to get a picture of the upset if one
occurred, then run to the lower end of the rapid with a
rope and a life-preserver.

After adjusting life-preservers I returned to my boat
and was soon on the smooth water above the rapid, hold-
ing my boat to prevent her from being swept over the
rock in the centre, jockeying for the proper position before
I would allow her to be carried into the current. Once
in, it seemed but an instant until I was past the first
rock, and almost on top of the second. I was pulling
with every ounce of strength, and was almost clear of
the rock when the stern touched it gently. I had no
idea the boat would overturn, but thought she would
swing around the rock, heading bow first into the stream,
as had been done before on several occasions. Instead
of this she was thrown on her side with the bottom of the
boat held against the rock while I found myself thrown
out of the boat, but hanging to the gunwale. Then the
boat swung around and instantly turned upright while I
scrambled back into the cockpit. Looking over my
shoulder, when I had things well in hand again, I saw my
brother was still at the camera, white as a sheet, but
turning at the crank as if our entire safety depended on it.
After I landed the water-filled boat, however, he confessed
to me that he had no idea whether he had caught the upset
or not, as he may have resumed the work when he saw
that I was safe.

1 86 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

Then we went to work to find out what damage
was done. First we found that the case, which was
supposed to be waterproof, had a half-inch of water
inside, but fortunately none of our films were wet. Some
plates which we had just exposed and which were still
in the holders were soaked. The cameras also had
suffered. We hurriedly wiped off the surplus water
and piled these things on the shore, then emptied the
boat of a few barrels of water.

This one experience, I suppose, should have been
enough for me with that rapid, but I foolishly insisted on
making another trial at it with the Edith, for I felt sure I
could make it if I only had another chance, and the fact
that Emery had the empty boat at the end of the rapid
and could rescue me if an upset occurred greatly lessened
the danger. The idea of making a portage, with the loss
of nearly a day, did not appeal to me.

Emery agreed to this reluctantly, and advised waiting
until morning, for it was growing dusk, but with the re-
mark " I will sleep better with both boats tied at the
lower end of the rapid," I returned to the Edith. To
make a long story short I missed my channel, and was
carried over the rock in the centre of the stream. The
Edith had bravely mounted the first wave, and was
climbing the second comber, standing almost on end, it
seemed to me, when the wave crested over the stern,
while the current shooting it from the side struck the

A NIGHT OF THRILLS 187

submerged bow and she fell back in the water upside
down. It was all done so quickly, I hardly knew what
had occurred, but found myself in the water, whirling
this way and that, holding to the right oar with a death-
grip. I wondered if the strings would hold, and felt a
great relief when the oar stopped slipping down, — as
the blade reached the ring. It was the work of a second
to climb the oar, and I found I was under the cockpit.
Securing a firm hold on the gunwale, which had helped
us so often, I got on the outside of the boat, thinking I
might climb on top. About that time one of the largest
waves broke over me, knocking me on the side of the
head as if with a solid object, nearly tearing me from
the boat. After that I kept as close to the boat as
possible, paddling with my feet to keep them clear of
rocks. Then the suction of the boat caught them and
dragged them under, and for the rest of the rapid I had
all I could do to hang to the boat. As the rapid dwindled
I began to look for Emery, but was unable to see him,
for it was now growing quite dark, but I could see a fire
on shore that he had built. I tried to call but was
strangled with the breaking waves ; my voice was drowned
in the roar of the rapid. One of the life-preservers was
torn loose and floated ahead of me. Finally I got an
answer, and could see that Emery had launched his boat.
As he drew near I told him to save the life-preserver,
which he did, then hurriedly pulled for me. I remarked
with a forced laugh, to reassure him,

1 88 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

"Gee, Emery, this water's cold."

He failed to join in my levity, however, and said with
feeling, a Thank the good Lord you are here !" and
down in my heart I echoed his prayer of thanks.

Somehow I had lost all desire to successfully navigate
the Soap Creek Rapid.

But our troubles were not entirely over. Emery
had pulled me in after a futile attempt or two, with a
hold sometimes used by wrestlers, linking his arm in
mine, leaning forward, and pulling me in over his back.
I was so numbed by the cold that I could do little to help
him, after what, I suppose, was about a quarter of an
hour's struggle in the water; although it seemed much
longer than that to me.

We then caught the Edith and attempted to turn her
over, but before this could be done we were dragged
into the next rapid. Emery caught up the oars, while I
could do nothing but hold to the upturned boat, half
filled with water, striving to drag us against the wall
on the left side of the stream. It was no small task to
handle the two boats in this way, but Emery made it;
then, when he thought we were sure of a landing, the
Edith dragged us into the river again. Two more small
rapids were run as we peered through the darkness for
a landing. Finally we reached the shore over a mile
below the Soap Creek Rapid. We were on the opposite
side of the stream from that where we had unloaded the

A NIGHT OF THRILLS 189

Defiance. This material would have to stay where it was
that night.

While bailing the water from the Edith we noticed a
peculiar odour, and thought for a while that it might be
the body of the man who was drowned at the ferry, but
later we found it came from a green cottonwood log
that had become water-soaked, and was embedded in
the sand, close to our landing. It was Emery's turn to
do the greater part of the camp work that night, while I
was content to hug the fire, wrapped in blankets, waiting
for the coffee to boil.

CHAPTER XVIII

MARBLE HALLS AND MARBLE WALLS

THERE was little of the spectacular in our work the
next day as we slowly and laboriously dragged an empty
boat upstream against the swift-running current, taking
advantage of many little eddies, but finding much of the
shore swept clean. I had ample opportunity to ponder
on the wisdom of my attempt to save time by
running the Soap Creek Rapid instead of making
a portage, while we carried our loads over the immense
boulders that banked the stream, down to a swift piece
of water, past which we could not well bring the boats ;
or while we developed the wet plates from the ruined
plate-holders. It was with no little surprise that we
found all the plates, except a few which were not uni-
formly wet and developed unevenly, could be saved.
It took a day and a half to complete all this work.

Marble Canyon was now beginning to narrow up,
with a steep, boulder-covered slope on either side, three
or four hundred feet high ; with a sheer wall of dark red
limestone of equal height directly above that. There

190

MARBLE HALLS AND MARBLE WALLS 191

was also a plateau of red sandstone and distant walls
topped with light-coloured rock, the same formations with
which we were familiar in the Grand Canyon. The
inner gorge had narrowed from a thousand feet or more
down to four hundred feet, the slope at the river was
growing steeper and gradually disappearing, and each
mile of travel had added a hundred feet or more to the
height of the walls. Soon after resuming our journey
that afternoon, the slope disappeared altogether, and the
sheer walls came down close to the water. There were
few places where one could climb out, had we desired to do
so. This hard limestone wall, which Major Powell
had named the marble wall, had a disconcerting way of
weathering very smooth and sheer, with a few ledges
and fewer breaks.

We made a short run that day, going over a few rapids,
stopping an hour to make some pictures where an im-
mense rock had fallen from the cliff above into the
middle of the river bed, leaving a forty-foot channel
on one side, and scarcely any on the other. Below this
we found a rapid so much like the Soap Creek Rapid in
appearance that a portage seemed advisable. It was
evening when we got the Edith to the lower end of this
rapid after almost losing her, as we lined her down, and
she was wedged under a sloping rock that overhung
the rapid. We had two ropes, one at either end, attached
to the boat in this case. Emery stood below the rock

192 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

ready to pull her in when once past the rock. There
was a sickening crackling of wood as the deck of the
boat wedged under and down to the level of the water,
and at Emery's call I released the boat, throwing the
rope into the river, and hurried to help him. He was
almost dragged into the water as the boat swung around,
fortunately striking against a sand-bank, instead of the
many rocks that lined the shore. We were working with
a stream different from the Green River, we found, and
the Defiance was taken from the water the next day and
slowly worked, one end at a time, over the rocks, up to a
level sand-bank, twenty-five or thirty feet above the
river. Then we put rollers under her, and worked her
down past the rapid. This work was little to our liking,
for the boats, now pretty well water-soaked, weighed
considerably more than their original five hundred
pounds' weight.

A few successful plunges soon brought back our
former confidence, and we continued to run all other
rapids that presented themselves. This afternoon we
passed the first rapid we remembered having seen, where
we could not land at its head before running it. A slightly
higher stage of water, however, would have made many
such rapids. Just below this point we found the body
of a bighorn mountain-sheep floating in an eddy. It was
impossible to tell just how he came to his death. There
was no sign of any great fall that we could see. He had

. H

MARBLE HALLS AND MARBLE WALLS 193

a splendid pair of horns, which we would have liked to
have had at home, but which we did not care to amputate
and carry with us.

On this day's travel, we passed a number of places
where the marble — which had suggested this canyon's
name to Major Powell — appeared. The exposed parts
were checked, or seamed, and apparently would have
little commercial value. We passed a shallow cave or two
this day, then found another cave or hole, running back
about fifteen feet in the wall, so suitable for a camp that
we could not refuse the temptation to stop, although we
had made but a very short run this day. The high water
had entered it, depositing successive layers of sand on the
bottom, rising in steps, one above the other, making con-
venient shelves for maps and journals, pots and pans ;
while little shovelling was necessary to make the lower
level of sand fit our sleeping bags. A number of small
springs, bubbling from the walls near by, gave us the first
clear water that we had found for some time, and a pile
of driftwood caught in the rocks, directly in front of our
cave, added to its desirability for a camp. Firewood
was beginning to be the first consideration in choosing
a camp, for in many places the high water had swept the
shores clean, and spots which might otherwise have
made splendid camps were rendered most undesirable
for this reason.

So Camp Number 47 was made in this little cave, with

194 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

a violent rapid directly beneath us, making a din that
might be anything but reassuring, were we not pretty
well accustomed to it by this time. The next day,
Sunday, November the I2th, was passed in the same
spot. The air turned decidedly cold this day, a hard
wind swept up the river, the sky above was overcast,
and we had little doubt that snow was falling on the
Kaibab Plateau, which we could not see, but which we
knew rose to the height of 5500 feet above us, but a few
miles to the northwest of this camp. The sheer walls
directly above the river dropped down considerably
at this point, and a break or two permitted us to climb up
as high as we cared to go on the red sandstone wall,
which had lost its level character, and now rose in a
steep slope over a thousand feet above us. These walls,
with no growth but the tussocks of bunch-grass, the
prickly pear cactus, the mescal, and the yucca, were more
destitute of growth than any we had seen, excepting
the upper end of Desolation Canyon, even the upper walls
lacking the growth of pinon pine and juniper which we
usually associated with them. We were now directly
below the Painted Desert, which lay to the left of the
canyon, and no doubt a similar desert was on the right-
hand side, in the form of a narrow plateau ; but we had
no means of knowing just how wide or narrow this was,
before it raised again to the forest-covered Buckskin
Mountains and the Kaibab Plateau.

MARBLE HALLS AND MARBLE WALLS 195

The rapid below our camp was just as bad as its roar,
we found, on running it the next day. Most of the de-
scent was confined to a violent drop at the very beginning,
but there was a lot of complicated water in the big waves
that followed. Emery was thrown forward in his boat,
when he reached the bottom of the chute, striking his
mouth, and bruising his hands, as he dropped his oars
and caught the bulkhead. An extra oar was wrenched
from the boat and disappeared in the white water, or
foam that was as nearly white as muddy water ever gets.
I nearly upset, and broke the pin of a rowlock, the
released oar being jerked from my hand, sending me
scrambling for an extra oar, when the boat swept into a
swift whirlpool. Emery caught my oar as it whirled
past him ; the other was found a half-mile below in an
eddy.

Some of the rapids in the centre of Marble Canyon
were not more than 75 feet wide, with a corresponding
violence of water. The whirlpools in the wider channels
below these rapids were the strongest we had seen, and
had a most annoying way of holding the boats just when
we thought we had evaded them. Sometimes there would
be a whirlpool on either side, with a sharply defined
line of division in the centre, along which it was next to
impossible to go without being caught on one side or
the other. These whirlpools were seldom regarded as
serious, for our boats were too wide and heavy to be

196 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

readily overturned in them, although we saved ourselves
more than one upset by throwing our weight to the op-
posite side. A small boat would have upset. On two
occasions we were caught in small whirlpools, where a
point of rock projected from the shore, turning upstream,
splitting a swift current and making a very rapid and
difficult whirl, where the boats were nearly smashed
against the walls. Below all such places were the familiar
boils, or fountains, or shoots, as they are variously termed.
These are the lower end of the whirlpools, emerging often
from the quiet water below a rapid with nearly as much
violence as they disappeared in the rapids above. These
would often rise when least expected, breaking under the
boats, the swift upshoot of water giving them such a rap
that we sometimes thought we had struck a rock. If one
happened to be in the centre of a boil when it broke, it
would send them sailing down the stream many times
faster than the regular current was travelling, rowing
the boat having about as little effect on determining its
course as if it was loaded on a flat-car. The other boat,
at times just a few feet away, might be caught in the
whirlpools that formed at the edge of the fountains,
often opening up suddenly under one side of the boat,
causing it to dip until the water poured over the edge,
holding it to that one spot in spite of every effort to row
away.

Then we would strike peaceful water again, a mile or

WALLS OF MARBLE CANYON.

MARBLE HALLS AND MARBLE WALLS 197

two perhaps, so quiet that a thin covering of clear water
spread over the top of the silt-laden pool beneath, re-
flecting the tinted walls and the turquoise sky beneath its
limpid surface. Gems of sunlight Sparkled on its bosom
and scintillated in the ripples left behind by the oars.
When seated with our backs to the strongest light, and
when glancing along the top of such a pool instead of
into it, the mirror-like surface gave way to a peculiar
purplish tone which seemed to cover the pool, so that one
would forget it was roily water, and saw only the iridescent
beauty of a mountain stream.

The wonderful marble walls — better known to the
miners as the blue limestone walls — now rose from the
water's edge to a height of eight or nine hundred feet,
the surface of its light blue-gray rock being stained
to a dark red, or a light red as the case might be, by the
iron from the sandstone walls above. There were a
thousand feet of these sandstone layers, red in all its
varying hues, capped by the four-hundred foot cross-
bedded sandstone wall, breaking sheer, ranging in tone
from a soft buff to a golden yellow, with a bloom, or glow,
as though illuminated from within. As we proceeded,
another layer could be seen above this, the same limestone
and with the same fossils — an examination of the rock-
slides told us — as the topmost formation at the Grand
Canyon. This was not unlike the cross-bedded sand-
stone in colour, but lacked its warmth and richness of tint.

198 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

A close examination of the rocks revealed many colours,
that figured but little in the grand colour scheme of the
canyon as a whole — the detailed ornamentation of
the magnificent rock structure. A fracture of wall
would show the true colour of the rock, beneath the stain ;
lime crystals studded its surface, like gems glinting
in the sunlight; beautifully tinted jasper, resembling the
petrified wood found in another part of Arizona, was
embedded in the marble wall, — usually at the point of
contact with another formation, — polished by the sands
of the turbid river.

All this told us that we were coming into our own.
Four of the seven notable divisions of rock strata found
in the Grand Canyon were now represented in Marble
Canyon, and soon the green shale, which underlies the
blue limestone, began to crop out by the river as the walls
grew higher and the stream cut deeper.

One turn of the canyon revealed a break where Stanton
hid his provisions in a cave — after a second fatality in
which two more of this ill-fated expedition lost their
lives — and climbed out on top. Afterwards he re-out-
fitted with heavier boats and tackled the stream again.

Just below this break the scene changed as we made
a sharp turn to the left. Vasey's Paradise — named by
Major Powell after Dr. Geo. W. Vasey, botanist of the
United States Department of Agriculture — was dis-
closed to view. Beautiful streams gushed from rounded

MARBLE HALLS AND MARBLE WALLS 199

holes, fifty yards above the river. The rock walls re-
minded one of an ivy-covered castle of old England,
guarded by a moat uncrossed by any drawbridge. It
was trellised with vines, maidenhair ferns, and water-moss
making a vivid green background for the golden yellow
and burnished copper leaves which still clung to some
small cottonwood trees — the only trees we had seen in
Marble Canyon.

In our haste to push on, we left the brass motion-
picture tripod head on an island, from which we pictured
this lovely spot. A rapid was put behind us before we
noticed our loss, and there was no going back then.

Another turn revealed a Gothic arch, or grotto, carved
at the bend of the wall by the high water, with an overhang
of more than a hundred feet, and a height nearly as great,
for the flood waters ran above the hundred-foot stage in
this narrow walled section. Then came a gloomy, prison-
like formation, with a " Bridge of Sighs" two hundred
feet above a gulch, connecting the dungeon to the per-
pendicular wall beyond ; and with a hundred cave-like
openings in its sheer sides like small windows, admitting
a little daylight into its dark interior. The sullen boom
of a rapid around the turn sounded like the march of an
army coming up the gorge, so we climbed back into our
boats after a vain attempt to climb up to some of the
caves, and advanced to meet our foe. This rapid — the
tenth for the day — while it was clear of rocks, had an

200 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

abrupt drop, with powerful waves which did all sorts of
things to us and to our boats ; breaking a rowlock and the
four pieces of line which held it, and flooding us both with
a ton of water. We went into camp a short distance be-
low this, in a narrow box canyon running back a hundred
yards from the river, a gloomy, cathedral-like interior,
with sheer walls rising several hundred feet on three
sides of us, and with the top of the south wall 2500 feet
above us in plain sight of our camp, the one camp in
Marble Canyon where our sleep was undisturbed by
the roar of a rapid. But instead of the roar of a rapid, a
howling wind swept down from the Painted Desert
above, piling the mingled desert sands and river sands
about our beds, scattering our camp material over the
bottom of the narrow gorge.

Soon after this camp — the fourth and the last in
Marble Canyon — was left behind us, the walls began to
widen out, especially on the north-northwest, and by noon
we had passed from the narrow, direct canyon, into one
with slopes and plateaus breaking the sheer walls, the wall
on the left or southeast side being much the lower of the
two, and more nearly perpendicular, rising to a height of
3200 feet, while the northwest side lifted up to the Kaibab
Plateau, one point — miles back from the river — rising
6000 feet above us.

We halted at noon beside the Nancoweep Valley, a
wide tributary heading many miles back in the plateau on

MARBLE HALLS AND MARBLE WALLS 2OI

the right, with a ramified series of canyons running into
it, and with great expanses of sage-covered flats between.
Deer tracks were found on these flats, deer which came
down from the forest of the Buckskin Mountains. This
was the point selected by Major Powell for the construc-
tion of a trail when he returned from his voyage of ex-
ploration to study the geology of this section. The
trail, although neglected for many years, is still used by
prospectors from Kanab, Utah, who make a yearly trip
into the canyons to do some work on a mineral ledge
a few miles below here.

What a glorious, exhilarating run we had that day !
From here to the end of Marble Canyon the rapids were
almost continuous, with few violent drops and seldom
broken by the usual quiet pools. It was the finest kind
of water for fast travelling, and we made the most of it.
The only previous run we had made that could in any way
compare with it was in Whirlpool and Split Mountain
canyons, when the high water was on. As we travelled,
occasional glimpses were had of familiar places on Green-
land Point — that thirty-mile peninsula of the Kaibab
Plateau extending between Marble Canyon and the
Grand Canyon — where we had gone deer-hunting, or on
photographic expeditions with Rust.

Another valley from the right was passed, then a peak
rose before us close to the river, with its flat top rising
to a height equal to the south wall. This was Chuar

202 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

Butte. Once more we were in a narrow canyon, narrowed
by this peak, but a canyon just the same. Soon we were
below a wall we once had photographed from the mouth
of the Little Colorado ; then the stream itself came in
view and we were soon anchored beside it. This was the
beginning of the Grand Canyon.

APPROACHING THE GRAND CANYON.

CHAPTER XIX

SIGNALLING OUR CANYON HOME

How long we had waited for this view ! How many
memories it recalled — and how different it seemed to our
previous visit there ! Then, the high water was on, and
the turquoise-tinted mineral water of the Colorado
Chiquito was backed up by the turbid flood waters of
the Rio Colorado, forty feet or more above the present
level. Now it was a rapid stream, throwing itself with
wild abandon over the rocks and into the Colorado.
There was the same deserted stone hut, built by a
French prospector, many years before, and a plough that
he had packed in over a thirty-mile trail — the most diffi-
cult one in all this rugged region ! There was the little
grass-plot where we pastured the burro, while we made a
fifteen-mile walk up the bed of this narrow canyon !
What a hard, hot journey it had been ! A year and a half
ago we sat on that rock, and talked of the day when we
should come through here in boats ! Even then we talked
of building a raft, and of loading the burro on it for a spin

on the flood waters. Lucky for us and for the burro

203

204 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

that we didn't ! We understand the temper of these
waters now.

Cape Desolation, a point of the Painted Desert on
the west side of the Little Colorado, was almost directly
above us, 3200 feet high. Chuar Butte, equally as high
and writh walls just as nearly perpendicular, extended
on into the Grand Canyon on the right side, making the
narrowest canyon of this depth that we had seen. The
Navajo reservation terminated at the Little Colorado,
although nothing but the maps indicated that we had
passed from the land of the Red man to that of the White.
Both were equally desolate, and equally wonderful.
With the entrance of the new stream the canyon changes
its southwest trend and turns directly west, and continues
to hold to this general direction until the northwest
corner of Arizona is reached.

But we must be on again ! Soon familiar segregated
peaks in the Grand Canyon began to appear. There
was Wotan's Throne on the right, and the "Copper
Mine Mesa" on the left. Three or four miles below
the junction a four-hundred foot perpendicular wall
rose above us. The burro, on our previous visit, was
almost shoved off that cliff when the pack caught on a
rock, and was only saved by strenuous pulling on the
neck-rope and pack harness. Soon we passed some
tunnels on both sides of the river where the Mormon
miners had tapped a copper ledge. At 4.15 P.M. we

SIGNALLING OUR CANYON HOME 205

were at the end of the Tanner Trail, the outlet of the Little
Colorado Trail to the rim above. It had taken seven
hours of toil to cover the same ground we now sped over
in an hour and a quarter. Major Powell, in 1872,
found here the remnant of a very small hut built of mes-
quite logs, but whether the remains of an Indian's or
white man's shelter cannot be stated. The trail, without
doubt, was used by the Indians before the white man in-
vaded this region.

The canyon had changed again from one which was
very narrow to one much more complex, greater, and
grander. The walls on top were many miles apart;
Comanche Point, to our left, was over 4000 feet above us ;
Desert View, Moran Point, and other points on the
south rim were even higher. On the right we could
see an arch near Cape Final on Greenland Point, over
5000 feet up, that we had photographed, from the top,
a few years before. Pagoda-shaped temples — the forma-
tion so typical of the Grand Canyon — clustered on all
sides. The upper walls were similar in tint to those
in Marble Canyon, but here at the river was a new forma-
tion ; the algonkian, composed of thousands of brilliantly
coloured bands of rock, standing at an angle — the one
irregularity to the uniform layers of rock — a remnant
of thousands of feet of rock which once covered this
region, then was planed away before the other deposits
were placed. All about us, close to the river, was a

206 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

deep, soft sand formed by the disintegration of the rocks
above, as brilliantly coloured as the rocks from which
they came. What had been a very narrow stream
above here spread out over a thousand feet wide, ran
with a good current, and seemed to be anything but a
shallow stream at that.

We had travelled far that day but still sped on, — with
a few rapids which did not retard, but rather helped us
on our way, and with a good current between these
rapids, — only stopping to camp when a three-hundred
foot wall rose sheer from the river's edge, bringing to an
end our basin-like river bottom, where one could walk
out on either side. It was not necessary to hunt for
driftwood this evening, for a thicket of mesquite — the
best of all wood for a camp-fire — grew out of the sand-
dunes, and some half-covered dead logs were unearthed
from the drifted sand, and soon reduced to glowing coals.

Meanwhile, we were enjoying one of those remarkable
Arizona desert sunsets. Ominous clouds had been
gathering in the afternoon, rising from the southwest,
drifting across the canyon, and piling up against the
north wall. A few fleecy clouds in the west partially
obscured the sun until it neared the horizon, then a
shaft of sunlight broke through once more, telegraphing
its approach long before it reached us, the rays being
visibly hurled through space like a javelin, or a lightning
bolt, striking peak after peak so that one almost imagined

SIGNALLING OUR CANYON HOME 207

they would hear the thunder roll. A yellow flame
covered the western sky, to be succeeded in a few minutes
by a crimson glow. The sharply defined colours of the
different layers of rock had merged and softened, as the
sun dropped from sight ; purple shadows crept into the
cavernous depths, while shafts of gold shot to the very
tiptop of the peaks, or threw their shadows like silhouettes
on the wall beyond. Then the scene shifted again, and it
was all blood-red, reflecting from the sky and staining
the rocks below, so that distant wall and sky merged,
with little to show where the one ended and the other
began. That beautiful haze, which tints, but does not
obscure, enshrouded the temples and spires, changing
from heliotrope to lavender, from lavender to deepest
purple ; there was a departing flare of flame like the col-
lapse of a burning building ; a few clouds in the zenith,
torn by the winds so that they resembled the craters
of the moon, were tinted for an instant around the crater's
rims ; the clouds faded to a dove-like gray ; they darkened ;
the gray disappeared ; the purple crept from the canyon
into the arched dome overhead ; the day was ended,
twilight passed, and darkness settled over all.

We sat silently by the fire for a few minutes, then
rose and resumed our evening's work. This camp
was at a point that could be seen from the Grand View
hotel, fourteen miles from our home. We talked of
building a signal fire on the promontory above the camp,

208 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

knowing that the news would be telephoned to our
home if the fire was seen. But we gave up the plan.
Although less than twenty miles from Bright Angel
Trail, we were not safely through by any means. Two
boats had been wrecked or lost in different rapids less than
six miles from this camp. The forty-foot fall in the
Hance or Red Canyon Rapid was three miles below us ;
the Sockdologer, the Grapevine, and other rapids nearly
as large followed those; we might be no more fortunate
than the others, and a delay after once giving a signal
would cause more anxiety than no signal at all we
thought, and the fire was not built.

Particular attention was paid to the loading of the
boats the next morning. The moving-picture film was
tucked in the toes of our sleeping bags, and the protecting
bags were carefully laced. We were not going to take
any chances in this next plunge — the much-talked-of
entrance to the granite gorge. A half-hour's run and a
dash through one violent rapid landed us at the end of
the Hance Trail — unused for tourist travel for several
years — with a few torn and tattered tents back in
the side canyon down which the trail wound its way.
We half hoped that we would find some of the prospec-
tors who make this section their winter home either
at the Tanner or the Hance Trail, but there was no sign of
recent visitors at either place, unless it was the numerous
burro tracks in the sand. These tracks were doubtless

SIGNALLING OUR CANYON HOME 209

made by some of the many wild burros that roam all
over the lower plateaus in the upper end of the Grand
Canyon.

After a careful inspection of the Hance Rapid we
were glad the signal fire was not built. It was a nasty
rapid. While reading over our notes one evening we
were amused to find that we had catalogued different
rapids with an equal amount of fall as "good," "bad," or
"nasty," the difference depending nearly altogether on
the rocks in the rapids. The "good rapids" were noth-
ing but a descent of "big water," with great waves, — for
which we cared little, but rather enjoyed if it was not
too cold, — and with no danger from rocks; the "bad
rapids" contained rocks, and twisting channels, but
with half a chance of getting through. A nasty rapid
was filled with rocks, many of them so concealed in the
foam that it was often next to impossible to tell if rocks
were there or not, and in which there was little chance
of running through without smashing a boat. The
Hance Rapid was such a one.

Such a complication of twisted channels and pro-
truding rocks we had not seen unless it was at Hell's
Half Mile. It meant a portage — nothing less — the
second since leaving that other rapid in Lodore. So
we went to work, carrying our duffle across deep, soft
sand-dunes, down to the middle of the rapid, where
it quieted for a hundred yards before it made the final

210 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

plunge. The gathering dusk of evening found all ma-
terial and one boat at this spot, with the other one at
the head of the rapid, to be portaged the next day.
But wre did not portage this boat. A good night's rest,
and the safeguard of a boat at the bottom of the plunge
made it look much less dangerous, and five minutes after
breakfast was finished, this boat was beside its mate,
and we had a reel of film which we hoped would show
just how we successfully ran this difficult rapid. While
going over the second section, on the opposite side
of the river, Emery was thrown out of his boat for an
instant when the Edith touched a rock in a twenty-five
mile an hour current, similar to my first upset in the
Soap Creek Rapid — the old story : out again ; in
again ; on again — landing in safety at the end of the
rapid not one whit the worse for the spill.

This rapid marks the place where the granite, or ig-
neous rock, intrudes, rising at a sharp angle, sloping
upward down the stream, reaching the height of 1300 feet
about one mile below. It marks the end of the large
deposit of algonkian. The granite, when it attains its
highest point, is covered with a 2OO-foot layer of
sedimentary rock called the tonto sandstone. The
top of this formation is exposed by a plateau from a
quarter of a mile to three miles in width, on either
side of the granite gorge ; the same walls which were
found in Marble Canyon rise above this. The temples

SIGNALLING OUR CANYON HOME 211

which are scattered through the canyon — equal in
height, in many cases, to the walls — have their foun-
dation on this plateau. These peaks contain the same
stratified rock with a uniform thickness whether in
peak or wall, with little displacement and little sign
of violent uplift, nearly all this canyon being the work of
erosion : 5000 feet from the rim to the river ; the edges
of six great layers of sedimentary rock laid bare and with
a narrow 1300- foot gorge through the igneous rock
below — the Grand Canyon of Arizona.

The granite gorge seemed to us to be the one place
of all others that we had seen on this trip that would
cause one to hesitate a long time before entering, if noth-
ing definite was known of its nature. Another person
might have felt the same way of the canyons we had
passed, Lodore or Marble Canyon, for instance. A
great deal depends on the nerves and digestion, no doubt ;
and the same person would look at it in a different light
at different times, as we found from our own experiences.
Our digestions were in excellent condition just at that
time, and we were nerved up by the thought that we
were going "to the plate fpr a home run" if possible, yet
the granite gorge had a decidedly sinister look. The walls,
while not sheer, were nearly so ; they might be climbed in
many places to the top of the granite ; but the tonto sand-
stone wall nearly always overhangs this, breaks sheer,
and seldom affords an outlet to the plateaus above, except

212 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

where lateral canyons cut through. The rocks are very
dark, with dikes of quartz, and with twisting seams of red
and black granite, the great body of rock being made up
of decomposed micaceous schists and gneiss, a treacher-
ous material to climb. The entrance to this gorge is
made on a quiet pool with no shore on either side after
once well in.

But several parties had been through since Major
Powell made his initial trip, so we did not hesitate, but
pushed on with the current. Now we could truly say
that we were going home. The Hance Rapid was be-
hind us ; Bright Angel Creek was about twelve miles
away. Soon we were in the deepest part of the gorge.
Great dikes and uplifts of jagged rocks towered above
us ; and up, up, up, lifted the other walls above that.
Bissell Point, on the very top, could plainly be seen from
our quiet pool.

Then came a series of rapids quite different from the
Hance Rapid, and many others found above. Those
others were usually caused in part by the detritus or de-
posit from side canyons, which dammed the stream, and
what might be a swift stream, with a continuous drop,
was transformed to a succession of mill-ponds and cata-
racts, or rapids. In nearly every case, in low water such
as we were travelling on, the deposit made a shore on
which we could land and inspect the rapid from below.
The swift water invariably makes a narrow channel

SIGNALLING OUR CANYON HOME 213

if it has no obstruction in its way ; it is the quiet stream
that makes a wide channel. But the rapids we found
this day were nearly all different. They were seldom
caused by great deposits of rock, but appeared to be
formed by a dike or ledge of hard rock rising from the
softer rock — the same intrusion being sometimes found
on both sides of the stream — forming a dam the full
width of the channel, over which the water made a swift
descent, with a long line of interference waves below.
But for a cold wind which swept up the stream, this style
of rapid was more to our fancy. These were "good
rapids," the "best" we had seen. There were few
rocks to avoid. Some of the rapids were violent, but
careful handling took us past every danger. There
was little chance to make a portage at several of these
places had we desired to do so. We gave them but a
glance from the decks of the boats, then dropped into
them. In one instance I saw the Edith literally shoot
through a wave bow first, both ends of the boat being
visible, while her captain was buried in the foam.

We had learned to discriminate by its noise, long
before we could see a rapid, whether it was filled with
rocks, or was merely a descent of big water. The latter,
often just as impressive as the former, had a sullen, steady
boom ; the rocky rapids had the same sound, punctuated
by another sound, like the crack of regiments of musketry.
All were greatly magnified in sound by the narrow, echo-

214 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

ing walls. We became so accustomed to this noise that
we almost forgot it was there, and it was only after the
long, quiet stretches that the noise was noticed. In a
few instances only we noticed the shattering vibration
of air that is associated with waterfalls. Still there is
noise enough in many rapids so that their boom can be
heard several miles away from the top of the canyons.

Guided by these sounds, and aided by our method of
holding the boat in mid-stream, while making a recon-
noissance, we were quite well aware of what we were
likely to find before we anchored above a rapid. We
were never fearful of being drawrn into a cataract without
having a chance to land somewhere. The water is
strangely quiet, to a comparatively close distance above
nearly all rapids. We usually tied up anywhere from
fifty feet to a hundred yards above a drop, before inspect-
ing it. If it was a "big-water" rapid, we usually looked
it over standing on the seat in the boats, then continued.
By signals with the hands, the one first over wrould guide
the other, if any hidden rocks or dangerous channel
threatened. While we did not think much about it,
we usually noted the places where one might climb out
on the plateau. Little could be told about the upper
walls from the river.

A chilling wind swept up the river, penetrating our
soaked garments. But we paid little attention to this,
only pulling the harder, not only to keep the circulation

SIGNALLING OUR CANYON HOME 215

going, but every pull of the oars put us that much nearer
home. We never paused in our rowing until we anchored
at 4.30 P.M. under Rust's tramway, close to the mouth
of Bright Angel Creek. According to the United States
Geological Survey there is a descent of 178 feet from the
head of the Hance Rapid to the end of Bright Angel
Trail, one mile below the creek. We would have a
very moderate descent in that mile. The run from the
Hance Rapid had been made in less than five hours.

Our boats were tied in the shadow of the cage hanging
from a cable sixty feet above. It stretched across a quiet
pool, 450 feet across — for the river is dammed by debris
from the creek below, and fills the channel from wall to
wall. Hurriedly we made our way up to Rust's camp,
— closed for the winter ; for heavy snows would cover
the North Rim in a few days or a few weeks at the far-
thest, filling the trails with heavy drifts and driving the
cougar into the canyon where dogs and horses cannot
follow. But the latch-string was out for us, we knew,
had we cared to use the tents. Our signal fire was built
a mile above the camp, at a spot that was plainly visible
on a clear day from our home on the other side, six miles
away as the crow flies. We had often looked at this spot,
with a telescope, from the veranda of our studio, watch-
ing the hunting and sight-seeing parties ride up the bed
of the stream. We rather feared the drifting clouds and
mists would hide the fire from view, but now and then

2l6 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

a rift appeared, and we knew if they were looking they
could see its light. Camp No. 51 was made close to
Bright Angel Creek, that evening, Thursday, October
the 1 6th, two months and eight days from the time we
had embarked on our journey.

Three or four hours were spent in packing our ma-
terial the next morning, so it could be stored in a miners'
tunnel, near the end of the trail. We would pack little
of this out, as we intended to resume our river work in a
week or ten days. A five-minute run took us over the
rapid below Bright Angel Creek, and down to a bend in
the river, just above the Cameron or Bright Angel Trail.
Two men — guides from the hotel — called to us as our
boats swept into view. We made a quick dash over the
vicious little drop below the bend, — easy for our boats,
but dangerous enough for lighter craft on account of a
difficult whirlpool, — and were soon on shore greeting
old friends. Up on the plateau, 1300 feet above, a trail
party of tourists and guides called down their welcome.
The stores were put in the miners' tunnel as we had
planned, and the boats were taken above the high-water
mark ; placed in dry dock one might say.

The guides had good news for us and bad news too.
Emery's wife had been ill with appendicitis nearly all
the time we were on our journey. We had received
letters from her at every post-office excepting Lee's Ferry,
but never a hint that all was not well. She knew it would
break up the trip. Pretty good nerve, we thought !

SIGNALLING OUR CANYON HOME 217

Ragged and weary, but happy ; a little lean and over-
trained, but feeling entirely "fit," — we commenced our
seven-mile climb up the trail, every turn of which seemed
like an old friend. When 1300 feet above the river, our
little workshop beside a stream on the plateau — only
used at intervals when no water can be had on top, and
closed for three months past — gave us our first cheerless
greeting. Although little more than a hundred feet from
the trail, we did not stop to inspect it. Cameron's Indian
Garden Camp was also closed for the day, and we were
disappointed in a hope that we could telephone to our
home, 3200 feet above. But the tents, under rows of
waving cottonwoods, and surrounded by beds of bloom-
ing roses and glorious chrysanthemums, gave us a more
cheerful welcome than our little building below. We
only stopped to quench our thirst in the bubbling spring,
then began the four-mile climb that would put us on top
of the towering cliff. Soon we overtook the party we
had seen on the plateau. Some of the tourists kindly
offered us their mules, but mules were too slow for us,
and they were soon far below us. Calls, faint at first,
but growing louder as we advanced, came floating down
from above. On nearing the top our younger brother
Ernest, who had come on from Pittsburg to look after
our business, came running down the trail to greet us.
One member of a troupe of moving-picture actors, in
cowboy garb, remarked that we "didn't look like moving-

21 8 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

picture explorers " ; then little Edith emerged from our
studio just below the head of Bright Angel Trail and
came skipping down toward us, but stopped suddenly
when near us, and said smilingly :

"Is that my Daddy with all those whiskers ?"

BRIGHT ANGEL CREEK AND CANYON.

CHAPTER XX

ONE MONTH LATER

NATURALLY we were very impatient to know just
what success we had met with in our photographic work.
Some of the motion pictures had been printed and re-
turned to us. My brother, who meanwhile had taken
his family to Los Angeles, sent very encouraging reports
regarding some of the films.

Among the Canyon visitors who came down to inspect
the results of our trip were Thomas Moran, the famous
artist, with his daughter, Miss Ruth, whose interest was
more than casual. Thomas Moran's name, more than any
other, with the possible exception of Major Powell's, is
to be associated with the Grand Canyon. It was his
painting which hangs in the capital at Washington that
first acquainted the American public with the wonders
of the Canyon. This painting was the result of a journey
he made with Major Powell, from Salt Lake City to the
north side of the Canyon, thirty-eight years before.
In addition he had made most of the cuts that illustrated

Major Powell's government report ; making his sketches

219

220 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

on wood from photographs this expedition had taken
with the old-fashioned wet plates that had to be coated
and developed on the spot — wonderful photographs,
which for beauty, softness, and detail are not excelled,
and are scarcely equalled by more modern plates and
photographic results. The only great advantage of
the dry plates was the fact that they could catch the
action of the water with an instantaneous exposure, where
the wet plates had to have a long exposure and lost that
action.

Thomas Moran could pick up almost any picture that
we made, and tell us at once just what section it came
from and its identifying characteristics. His daughter,
Miss Ruth, was just as much interested in our trip and
its results. She was anxious to know when we would go
on again and planned on making the trail trip down to
the plateau to see us take the plunge over the first rough
rapid. She was just a little anxious to see an upset,
and asked if we could not promise that one would occur.

A month passed before my brother returned from Los
Angeles. His wife, who had remained there, was in
good health again, and insisted on his finishing the trip
at once. We were just as anxious to have it finished, but
were not very enthusiastic about this last part on account
of some very cold weather we had been having. On
the other hand, we feared if the trip was not finished then
it might never be completed. So we consoled ourselves

ONE MONTH LATER 221

with the thought that it was some warmer at the bottom
than it was on top, and prepared to make the final plunge
— 350 miles to Needles, with a i6oo-foot descent in the
185 miles that remained of the Grand Canyon.

A foot of snow had fallen two nights before we planned
on leaving. The thermometer had dropped to zero, and a
little below on one occasion, during the nights for a week
past. Close to the top the trail was filled with drifts.
The walls were white with snow down to the plateau,
3200 feet below; something unusual, as it seldom de-
scends as snow lower than two thousand feet, but turns
to rain. But a week of cold, cloudy weather, accompanied
by hard winds, had driven all warmth from the canyon,
allowing this snow to descend lower than usual. Under
such conditions the damp cold in the canyon, while not
registered on the thermometer as low as that on top, is
more penetrating. Very little sun reaches the bottom
of the inner gorge in December and January. It is
usually a few degrees colder than the inner plateau
above it, which is open, and does get some sun. These
were the conditions when we returned to our boats
December the I9th, 1911, and found a thin covering of
ice on small pools near the river.

Our party was enlarged by the addition of two men
who were anxious for some river experience. One was
our younger brother, Ernest. We agreed to take him
as far as the Bass Trail, twenty-five miles below, where

222 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

he could get out on top and return to our home. The
other was a young man named Bert Lauzon, who wanted
to make the entire trip, and we were glad to have him.
Lauzon, although but 24 years old, had been a quartz
miner and mining engineer for some years. Coming
from the mountains of Colorado, he had travelled over
most of the Western states, and a considerable part of
Mexico, in his expeditions. There was no question in
our minds about Lauzon. He was the man we needed.

To offset the weight of an extra man for each boat,
our supplies were cut to the minimum, arrangements
having been made with W. W. Bass — the proprietor
of the Bass Camps and of the Mystic Springs Trail -
to have some provisions packed in over his trail. What
provisions we took ourselves were packed down on two
mules, and anything we could spare from our boats was
packed out on the same animals. As we were about
ready to leave a friendly miner said: "You can't hook
fish in the Colorado in the winter, they won't bite nohow.
You'd better take a couple of sticks of my giant-powder
along. That will help you get 'em, and it may keep you
from starving." Under the circumstances it seemed like
a wise precaution and we took his giant-powder, as he
had suggested.

The river had fallen two feet below the stage on
which we quit a month before. A scale of foot-marks
on a rock wall rising from the river showed that the water

ONE MONTH LATER 223

was twenty-seven feet deep at that spot. No measure-
ment was made in the middle of the river channel. The
current here between two small rapids flows at five
and three-fourths miles per hour. The width of the stream
is close to 250 feet. The high-water mark here is forty-
five feet above the low-water stage, then the river spreads
to five hundred feet in width, running with a swiftness
and strength of current and whirlpool that is tremendous.
The highest authentic measurement in a narrow channel,
of which we know, is one made by Julius F. Stone in
Marble Canyon. He recorded one spot where the high-
water mark was 115 feet above the low-water mark.
These figures might look large at first, but if they
are compared with some of the floods on the Ohio
River, for instance, and that stream were boxed in a
two hundred foot channel the difference would not be
great, we imagine.

One of the young men who greeted us when we landed
came down with a companion to see us embark. On
the plateau 1300 feet above, looking like small insects
against the sky-line, was a trail party, equally interested.
They did not stand on the point usually visited by such
parties but had gone to a point about a mile to the west,
where they had a good view of a short, rough rapid.
The little rapid below the trail, while it was no place
that one would care to swim in, had no comparison with
this other rapid in violence. We had promised the

224 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

party that we would run this rapid that afternoon, so
we spent little time in packing systematically, but hur-
riedly threw the stuff in and embarked. Less than an
hour later we had made the two-mile run and the dash
through the short rapid, to the entire satisfaction of all
concerned.

We camped a short distance below the rapid, just
opposite a grave of a man whose skeleton had been found
halfway up the granite, five years before. Judging by
his clothes and hob-nailed shoes he was a prospector.
He was lying in a natural position, with his head resting
on a rock. An overcoat was buttoned tightly about him.
No large bones were broken, but he might have had a
fall and been injured internally. More likely he became
sick and died. The small bones of the hands and feet
had been taken away by field-mice, and no doubt the
turkey-buzzards had stripped the flesh. His pockets
contained Los Angeles newspapers of 1900 ; he was found
in 1906. The pockets also contained a pipe and a pocket-
knife, but nothing by which he could be identified. The
coroner's jury — of which my brother was a member —
buried him where he was found, covering the body with
rocks, for there was no earth.

Such finds are not unusual in this rugged country.
These prospectors seldom say where they are going, no
track is kept of their movements, and unless something
about their clothes tells who they are, their identity is

ONE MONTH LATER 225

seldom established. The proximity of this grave made
us wonder how many more such unburied bodies there
were along this river. We thought too of our friend
Smith, back in Cataract Canyon, and wondered if we
would hear from him again.

Our helpers got a lot of experience in motion-picture
making the next day, while we ran our boats through a
number of good, strong rapids, well known locally as the
Salt Creek Rapid, Granite Falls or Monument Rapid,
the Hermit, the Bouchere, and others. This was all
new to the boys, and provided some thrilling entertain-
ment for them. When a difficult passage was safely
made Bert would wave his hat and yell "Hoo" in a deep,
long call that would carry above the roar of the rapids,
then he and Ernest would follow along the shore with
their cameras, as these rapids all had a shore on one
side or the other. The sun shone on the river this day,
and we congratulated ourselves on having made the most
of our opportunities.

In our first rapid the next morning, we had to carry
our passengers whether we wanted to or not. There
was no shore on either side. In such plunges they would
lie down on the deck of the boat behind the oarsman,
holding to the raised bulkhead, ducking their heads when
an oncoming wave prepared to break over them. Then
they would shake themselves as a water-spaniel does,
and Bert with a grin would say,
Q

226 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

"Young fellows, business is picking up !"
Ernest agreed, too, that he had never seen anything
in Pittsburg that quite equalled it. If the rapid was not
bad, they sat upright on the deck, but this made the
boats top-heavy, and as much of the oarsman's work
depended on swinging his weight from side to side, it
was important that no mistake should be made about
this distribution of weight. Often the bottom of a boat
would show above the water as it listed to one side. At
such a time a person sitting on the raised deck might get
thrown overboard.

Before starting on this last trip we had thought it
would be only right to give our younger brother a ride in
a rapid that would be sure to give him a good ducking,
as his experience was going to be short. But the water
and the wind, especially in the shadows, was so very
cold that we gave this plan up, and avoided the waves
as much as possible. He got a ducking this morning,
however, in a place where we least expected it. It was
not a rapid, just smooth, very swift water, while close
to the right shore there was one submerged rock with a
foot of water shooting over it, in such a way that it made
a "reverse whirl" as they are called in Alaska — water
rolling back upstream, and from all sides as well, to
fill the vacuum just below the rock. This one was about
twelve feet across ; the water disappeared as though it
was being poured down a manhole.

ONE MONTH LATER 227

The least care, or caution, would have taken me clear
of this place ; but the smooth water was so deceptive,
and was so much stronger than I had judged it to be,
that I found myself caught sideways to the current,
hemmed in with waves on all sides of the boat, knocked
back and forth, and resisted in all my eiforts to pull
clear. The boat was gradually filling with the splashing
water. Ernest was lying on the deck, hanging on like
grim death, slipping off, first on one side, then on the
other, and wondering what was going to happen. So was
I. To be held up in the middle of a swift stream was a
new experience, and I was not proud of it. The others
passed as soon as they saw what had happened, and
were waiting in an eddy below. Perhaps we were there
only one minute, but it seemed like five. I helped Ernest
into the cockpit. About that time the boat filled with
splashing water and sunk low, the stream poured over
the rock and into the boat, and she upset instantly.

Ernest had on two life-preservers, and came up about
thirty feet below, swimming very well considering that
he was weighted with heavy clothes and high-topped
shoes. The boys pulled him in before he was carried
against a threatening wall. Meanwhile, I held to the
boat, which was forced out as soon as she was overturned,
and climbed on top, or rather on the bottom. I was
trying to make the best of things and was giving a cheer
when some one said,

228 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

"There goes your hatch cover and you've lost the
motion-picture camera."

Perhaps I had. My cheering ceased. The camera
had been hurriedly shoved down in the hatch a few min-
utes before.

On being towed to shore, however, we found the
camera had not fallen out. It had been shoved to the
side less than one inch, but that little bit had saved it.
It was filled with water, though, and all the pictures
were on the unfinished roll in the camera, and were ruined.
We had been in the ice-cold water long enough to lose
that glow which comes after a quick immersion and were
chilled through ; but what bothered me more than any-
thing else was the fact that I had been caught in such a
trap after successfully running the bad rapids above.
We made a short run after that so as to get out of sight
of the deceptive place, then proceeded to dry out. The
ruined film came in handy for kindling our camp-fire.

We were now in the narrowest part of the upper por-
tion of the Grand Canyon, the distance from rim to rim
at one point being close to six miles. The width at
Bright Angel varied from eight to fourteen miles. The
peaks rising from the plateau, often as high as the canyon
walls, and with flat tops a mile or more in width, made
the canyon even narrower, so that at times we were in
canyons close to a mile in depth, and little over four
miles across at the tops.

ONE MONTH LATER 229

In this section of the granite there were few places
where one could climb out. Nearly all the lateral can-
yons ended quite a distance above the river, then fell
sheer ; the lower parts of the walls were quite often smooth-
surfaced, where they were polished by the sands in the
stream. The black granite in such cases resembled huge
deposits of anthracite coal. Sections of the granite
often projected out of the water as islands, with the softer
rock washed away, the granite being curiously carved
by whirling rocks and the emery-like sands. Holes
three and four feet deep were worn by small whirling
rocks, and grooves were worn at one place by growing
willows working back and forth in the water, the sand,
strange to say, having less effect on the limbs than it had
on the hard rocks.

About noon of the day following this upset we reached
the end of the Bass Trail and another cable crossing,
about sixty feet above the water. Three men were
waiting for us, and gave a call when we rowed in sight
of their camp. One was Lauzon's brother, another was
Cecil Dodd, a cowboy who looked after Bass' stock,
and the breaking of his horses, the third was John Nor-
berg, an "old timer" and an old friend as well, engaged
at that time in working some asbestos and copper claims.

The granite was broken down at this point, and
another small deposit of algonkian was found here.
There were intrusions, faults, and displacements both

230 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

in these formations and in the layers above. These
fractures exposed mineral seams and deposits of copper
and asbestos on both sides of the river, some of which
Bass had opened up and located, waiting for the day
when there would be better transportation facilities
than his burros afforded.

This was not our first visit to this section. On other
occasions we had descended by the Mystic Spring (or
Bass) Trail, on the south side, crossed on the tramway,
and were taken by Bass over some of his many trails,
on the north side. We had visited the asbestos claims,
where the edge of a blanket formation of the rock known
as serpentine, containing the asbestos, lay exposed to
view, twisting around the head of narrow canyons, and
under beetling cliffs. We went halfway up the north
rim trail, through Shinumo and White canyons, our
objective point on these trips being a narrow box canyon
which contained a large boulder, rolled from the walls
above, and wedged in the flume-like gorge far above
our heads. This trail continues up to the top, going over
the narrow neck which connects Powell's Plateau — a
segregated section of thickly wooded surface several
miles in extent — with the main extent of the Kaibab
Plateau.

Ernest, though slightly affected with tonsillitis, was
loath to leave us here. It was zero weather on top, we
were told, and it looked it. The walls and peaks were

ONE MONTH LATER 231

white with snow. He would not have an easy trip.
The drifted snow was only broken by the one party that
we found at the river, and quite likely it would be very
late when he arrived at the ranch. John went up with
him a few miles to get a horse for the ride home the next
day. Ernest took with him a few hurriedly written
letters and the exposed plates. The film we were going
to save was lost in the upset.

On inspecting the provisions which were packed in
here we found the grocers had shipped the order short,
omitting, besides other necessities, some canned baked
beans, on which we depended a great deal. This meant
one of two things. We would have to make a quicker
run than we had planned on, or would have to get out of
the canyon at one of the two places where such an exit
could easily be made.

The M. P. as our motion-picture camera was called
— and which was re-christened but not abbreviated by
Bert, as "The Member of Parliament" — had to be
cleaned before we could proceed. It took all this day,
and much of the next, to get the moisture and sand out
of the delicate mechanism, and have it running smoothly
again. After it was once more in good condition Emery
announced that he wanted to work out a few scenes of
an uncompleted " movie-drama." The action was snappy.
The plot was brief, but harmonized well with the
setting, and the "props." Dodd, who was a big Texan,

232 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

was cast for the role of horse thief and bad man in
general. Bert's brother, Morris Lauzon, was the deputy
sheriff, and had a star cut from the top of a tomato
can to prove it. John was to be a prospector. He
would need little rehearsing for this part. In addition,
he had not been out where he could have the services of
a barber for six months past, which was all the better.
John had a kind, quiet, easy-going way that made friends
for him on sight. He was not consulted about the part
he was to play, but we counted on his good nature
and he was cast for the part. Emery, who was cast for
the part of a mining engineer, arrived on the scene in his
boat, after rounding the bend above the camp, tied up
and climbed out over the cliffs to view the surrounding
country.

The hidden desperado, knowing that he was being
hunted, stole the boat with its contents, and made his
escape. The returning engineer arrived just in time to
see his boat in the middle of the stream, and a levelled
rifle halted him until the boat was hidden around the
bend. At that moment the officer joined him, and a
hurried consultation was held. Then the other boat,
which had been separated from its companion, pulled
into sight, and I was hailed by the men on shore. They
came aboard and we gave chase. Could anything be
better ? The thief naturally thought he was safe, as he
had not seen the second boat ! After going over a few

ONE MONTH LATER 233

rapids, he saw a fire up in the cliffs, on the opposite side of
the river. He landed, and climbed up to the camp where
John was at work. John shared his camp fare with him,
and directed him to a hidden trail. The pursuers, on
finding the abandoned boat, quietly followed the trail,
and surprised Dodd in John's camp. He was disarmed
and sent across the river in the tramway, accompanied
by the deputy, and was punished as he richly deserved
to be.

This was the scenario. Bert handled the camera.
Emery was the playwright, director, and producer. All
rights reserved.

Everything worked beautifully. The film did not
get balled up in the cogs, as sometimes happened. The
light was good. Belasco himself could not have improved
on the stage-setting. The trail led over the wildest,
and most picturesque places imaginable. Dodd made
a splendid desperado, and acted as if he had done nothing
but steal horses and dodge the officers all his life. A pile
of driftwood fifty feet high and with a tunnel underneath
made a splendid hiding place for him while the first boat
was being tied. Being a cowpuncher, it may be that
he did not handle the oars as well as an experienced river-
man, but any rapid could be used for an insert. The
deputy, though youthful, was determined and never
lost sight of the trail. The engineer acted his part well
and registered surprise and anger, when he found how

234 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

he had been tricked. John, who had returned, humoured
us, and dug nuggets of gold out of limestone rocks, where
no one would have thought of looking for them. The
fact that the tramway scene was made before any of the
others did not matter. We could play our last act first
if we wanted to. All we had to do was to cut the film
and fasten it on to the end. Emery was justly proud of
his first efforts as a producer. We were sorry this film
had not been sent out with Ernest.

This thrilling drama will not be released in the near
future. One day later we found that a drop of water
had worked into the lens cell at the last upset. This
fogged the lens. We focussed with a scale and had over-
looked the lens when cleaning the camera. Nothing
but a very faint outline showed on the film. We had
all the film we needed for a week after this, for kindling
our fires.

CHAPTER XXI

WHAT CHRISTMAS EVE BROUGHT

IN recording our various mishaps and upsets in these
pages, it may seem to the reader as if I have given undue
prominence to the part I took in them. If so, it has not
been from choice, but because they happened in that
way. No doubt a great deal of my trouble was due to
carelessness. After I had learned to row my boat fairly
well I sometimes took chances that proved to be any-
thing but advisable, depending a good deal on luck, and
luck was not always with me. My brother was less
hasty in making his decisions, and was more careful in
his movements, with the result that his boat had few
marks of any kind, and he had been more fortunate than
I with the rapids.

It is my duty to record another adventure at this
point, in which we all three shared, each in a different
manner. This time I am going to give my brother's
record of the happenings that overtook us about four
o'clock in the afternoon of December the 24th, less than

three hours after we left our friends at the Bass Trail

235

236 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

with "best wishes for a Merry Christmas," and had
received instructions from John "to keep our feet dry."

My brother's account follows :

"The fourth rapid below the Bass Trail was bad,
but after looking it over we decided it could be run. We
had taken chances in rapids that looked worse and
came through unharmed ; if we were successful here, it
would be over in a few minutes, and forgotten an hour
later. So we each made the attempt."

" Lauzon had gone near the lower end of the rapid,
taking the left shore, for a sixty-foot wall with a sloping
bench on top rose sheer out of the water on the right.
The only shore on the right was close to the head of the
rapid, a small deposit or bank of earth and rock. The
inner gorge here was about nine hundred feet deep."

"Ellsworth went first, taking the left-hand side. I
picked out a course on the right as being the least dan-
gerous ; but I was scarcely started when I found myself
on a nest of jagged rocks, with violent water all about
me, and with other rocks, some of them submerged,
below me. I climbed out on the rocks and held the
boat."

"If the others could land below the rapid and climb
back, they might get a rope to me and pull me off the
rocks far enough to give me a new start, but they could
not pull the boat in to shore through the rough water.
A person thinks quickly under such circumstances, and

WHAT CHRISTMAS EVE BROUGHT 237

I had it all figured out as soon as I was on the rocks.
The greatest trouble would be to hold the boat if she
broke loose."

"Then I saw that the Defiance was in trouble. She
was caught in a reverse whirl in the very middle of the
pounding rapid, bouncing back and forth like a great
rubber ball. Finally she filled with the splashing water,
sank low, and the water pouring over the rock caught
the edge of the twelve-hundred pound boat and turned
her over as if she were a toy ; my brother was holding to
the gunwale when she turned. Still she was held in the
whirl, jumping as violently as ever, then turned upright
again and was forced out. Ellsworth had disappeared,
but came up nearly a hundred feet below, struggling to
keep on top but going down with every breaking wave.
When the quieter water was reached, he did not seem to
have strength enough to swim out, but floated, motion-
less, in a standing position, his head kept up by the life-
preservers. The next rapid was not over fifty yards
below. If he was to be saved it must be done instantly."

"I pried the boat loose, jumped in as she swung clear,
and pulled with all my might, headed toward the centre
of the river. I was almost clear when I was drawn over
a dip, bow first, and struck a glancing blow against
another rock I had never seen. There was a crash, and
the boards broke like egg-shells. It was all done in a
few moments. The Edith was a .wreck, I did not know

238 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

how bad. My brother had disappeared. Lauzon was
frantically climbing over some large boulders, trying to
reach the head of the next rapid, where the boat was
held in an eddy. My boat was not upset, but the waves
were surging through a great hole in her side. She was
drawn into an eddy, close to the base of the wall, where
I could tie up and climb out. It seemed folly to try
the lower end with my filled boat. Climbing to the
top of the rock, I could see half a mile down the
canyon, but my brother was nowhere to be seen and I
had no idea that he had escaped. I was returning to
my wrecked boat when Bert waved his arms, and pointed
to the head of the rapid. Going back once more, I saw
him directly below me at the base of the sheer rock, in an
opening where the wall receded. He had crawled out
twenty feet above the next rapid. Returning to my
wrecked boat, I was soon beside him. He was exhausted
with his struggle in the icy waves ; his outer garments
were frozen. I soon procured blankets from my bed,
removed the wet clothes, and wrapped him up. Lau-
zon, true to our expectations of what he would do
when the test came, swam out and rescued the Defiance
before she was carried over the next rapid. He was
inexperienced at the oars and had less than two hours
practice after he had joined us. It was a tense moment
when he started across, above the rapid. But he made
it ! Landing with a big grin, he exclaimed, ' Young

WHAT CHRISTMAS EVE BROUGHT 239

fellows, business is picking up !' then added, 'And we're
losing lots of good pictures ! '"

" These experiences were our Christmas presents that
year. They were not done up in small packages."

"We repaired the boat on Christmas day. Three
smashed side ribs were replaced with mesquite, which
we found growing on the walls. The hole was patched
with boards from the loose bottom. This was painted ;
canvas was tacked over that and painted also, and a sheet
of tin or galvanized iron went over it all. This completed
the repair and the Edith was as seaworthy as before."

This is Emery's account of the "Christmas Rapid."

I will add that the freezing temperature of the water
and the struggle for breath in the breaking waves left
me exhausted and at the mercy of the river. An eddy
drew me out of the centre of the stream when I had
given up all hope of any escape from the next rapid. I
had seen my brother on the rock below the head of the
rapid and knew there was no hope from him. As I was
being drawn back into the current, close to the end of
the sheer wall on the right, my feet struck bottom on some
debris washed down from the cliff. I made three efforts
to stand but fell each time, and finally crawled out on
my hands and knees. I had the peculiar sensation of
seeing a rain-storm descending before my eyes, although
I knew no such thing existed; every fibre in my body
ached and continued to do so for days afterward ; and

240 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

the moment I would close my eyes to sleep I would see
mountainous waves about me and would feel myself
being whirled head over heels just as I was in that rapid ;
but this rapid, strange to say, while exceedingly rough
and swift, did not contain any waves that we would
have considered large up to this time. In other words,
it depended on the circumstances whether it was bad or
not. When standing on the shore, picking a channel,
it appeared to be a moderately bad rapid, in which a
person, aided with life-preservers, should have little
difficulty in keeping on top, at least half the time. After
my battle, in which, as far as personal effort went, I had
lost, and after my providential escape, that one rapid
appeared to be the largest of the entire series.

It is difficult to describe the rapids with the foot-rule
standard, and give an idea of their power. One un-
familiar with "white water" usually associates a twelve-
foot descent or a ten-foot wave with a similar wave on
the ocean. There is no comparison. The waters of the
ocean rise and fall, the waves travel, the water itself,
except in breakers, is comparatively still. In bad rapids
the water is whirled through at the rate of ten or twelve
miles an hour, in some cases much swifter; the surface
is broken by streams shooting up from every submerged
rock ; the weight of the river is behind it, and the waves,
instead of tumbling forward, quite as often break up-
stream. Such waves, less than six feet high, are often

THE BREAK IN THE "EDITH.'

MERRY CHRISTMAS! THE REPAIR WAS MADE WITH BILGE BOARDS, CANVAS,

PAINT, AND TIN.

WHAT CHRISTMAS EVE BROUGHT 241

dangers to be shunned. After being overturned in them
we learned their tremendous power, a power we would
never have associated with any water, before such an
experience, short of a waterfall.

There is a certain amount of danger in the canyons,
— plenty of it. Still, in most cases, with care and fore-
thought, much of it can be avoided. We think we are
safe in saying that half of the parties who have attempted
a passage through these canyons have met with fatalities.
Most of these have occurred in Cataract Canyon, not
because it is any worse than other sections, — certainly
no worse than the Grand Canyon, — but because it is
easily entered from the quiet, alluring water of the lower
Green River. Without a doubt each successful expedi-
tion is responsible in a way for others' attempts. In
nearly every instance the unfortunate ones have under-
estimated the danger, and have attempted the passage
with inadequate boats, such as Smith had for instance,
undecked and without air chambers. Both of these are
imperative for safety.

We had the benefit of the experiences of others. In
addition, our years of work in the canyons had robbed
them of their imaginary dangers, and — while we trust
that we are not entirely without imagination — much of
their weirdness and glamour with which they are insep-
arable to the idealist and the impressionist. Each of
these upsets could have been avoided by a portage had we

242 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

desired to make one, but success in other rapids made us
a little reckless and ready to take a chance.

Beyond getting our flour wet on the outside, we suf-
fered very little loss to our cargo. We placed the two
flour sacks beside the fires each evening, until the wet
flour dried to a crust. We continued to use out of the
centre of the sacks as though nothing had ever hap-
pened.

Bert and I each had a little cough the next morning,
but it disappeared by noon. Beyond that, we suffered
no great inconvenience from our enforced bath. Sleep-
ing in the open, with plenty of healthful exercise, kept us
physically fit.

The cold air and the cold water did not seem to bother
the others, but I could not get comfortably warm during
this cold snap. Added to this, it took me some time to
get over my scare, and I could see all kinds of danger,
in rapids, where Emery could see none. I insisted on
untying the photographic cases from the boats, and
carrying them around a number of rapids before we ran
them. It is hardly necessary to say that no upset oc-
curred in these rapids.

Then came a cold day, with a raw wind sweeping up
the river. A coating of ice covered the boats and the
oars. We had turned directly to the north along the
base of Powell's plateau, and were nearing the end of a
second granite gorge, with violent rapids and jagged

WHAT CHRISTMAS EVE BROUGHT 243

rocks. Emery made the remark that he had not had
a swim for some time. In a half-hour we came to a
rapid with two twelve-foot waves in the centre of the
stream, with a projecting point above that would have
to be passed, before we could pull out of the swift-running
centre. Emery got his swim there. I was just behind
and was more fortunate. I never saw anything more
quickly done. Before the boat was fully overturned
he swung an oar, so that it stuck out at an angle from
the side of the boat, and used the oar for a step ; an in-
stant later he had cut the oar loose, and steered toward
the shore. Bert threw him a rope from the shore, and
he was pulled in. He was wearing a thin rubber coat
fitting tightly about his wrists, tied about his neck, and
belted at the waist. This protected him so thoroughly
that he was only wet from the waist down.

If we were a little inclined to be proud of our record
above Bright Angel we had forgotten all about it by this
time. We were scarcely more than sixty miles from home
and had experienced three upsets and a smashed boat,
all in one week.

Just at the end of the second granite section we made
our first portage since leaving Bright Angel. Bert and
I worked on the boats, while Emery cooked the evening
meal.

Hot rice soup, flavoured with a can of prepared meat,
was easily and quickly prepared, and formed one of the

244 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

usual dishes at these meals. It contained a lot of nu-
triment, and the rice took up but little space in the boats.
Sometimes the meat was omitted, and raisins were sub-
stituted. Prepared baked beans were a staple dish,
but were not in our supply on this last part of the trip.
We often made "hot cakes" twice a day; an excuse for
eating a great deal of butter and honey, or syrup. None
of these things were luxuries. They were the best food-
stuff we could carry. We seemed to crave sweet stuff,
and used quantities of sugar. We could carry eggs,
when packed in sawdust, without trouble but did not
carry many. We had little meat ; what we had was
bacon, and prepared meats of the lunch variety. Cheese
was our main substitute for meat. It was easily carried
and kept well. Dried peaches or apricots were on the
bill for nearly every meal, each day's allowance being
cooked the evening before. We tried several condensed
or emergency foods, but discarded them all but one,
for various reasons. The exception was Erbeswurst, a
patent dried soup preparation. Other prepared soups
were carried also. I must not forget the morning cereal.
It was Cream of Wheat, easily prepared ; eaten —
not served, perhaps devoured would be a better word —
with sugar and condensed cream, as long as it lasted,
then with butter. Any remainder from breakfast was
fried for other meals. Each evening, we would make
some baking-powder biscuit in a frying-pan. A Dutch

WHAT CHRISTMAS EVE BROUGHT 245

oven is better, but had too much weight. The appella-
tion for such bread is "flapjack" or "dough-god." When
I did the baking they were fearfully and wonderfully
made. Cocoa, which was nourishing, often took the
place of coffee. In fact our systems craved just what
was most needed to build up muscle and create heat.
We found it was useless to try to catch fish after the
weather became cold. The fish would not bite.

On the upper end of our journey we carried no to-
bacco, as it happened that Jimmy as well as ourselves
were not tobacco users. There were no alcoholic stimu-
lants. Wlien Bert joined us, a small flask, for medicinal
purposes only, was taken along. The whiskey was
scarcely touched at this time. Bert enjoyed a pipe after
his meals, but continued to keep good-natured even
when his tobacco got wet, so tobacco was not absolutely
necessary to him.

Uninteresting and unromantic these things may be,
but they were most important to us. We were only
sorry the supply was not larger. While we never stinted
ourselves, or cut the allowance of food, the amount was
growing smaller every day, and it was not a question
any more whether we would go out or not, to get pro-
visions, to "rustle" as Bert called it, but where we would
go out. We might go up Cataract Creek or Ha Va Su
Creek, as it is sometimes called. We had been to the
mouth of this canyon on foot, so there would be no dan-

246 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

ger of missing it. The Ha Va Supai Indians, about two
hundred in number, lived in this lateral canyon, about
seven or eight miles from the river. An agent and a
farmer lived with them, and might be able to sell us some
provisions ; if not, it would be fifty miles back to our
home. The trail was much more direct than the river.
The great drawback to this course was the fact that Ha
Va Su Canyon, sheer-walled, deep, and narrow, contained
a number of waterfalls, one of them about 175 feet high.
The precipice over which it fell was nothing but a mineral
deposit from the water, building higher every year.
Formerly this was impassable, until some miners, after
enlarging a sloping cave, had cut a winding stairway in
it, which allowed a descent to be made to the bottom of
the fall. A recent storm had remodelled all the falls in
Cataract Creek Canyon, cutting out the travertine in
some places, piling it up in others. A great mass of
cottonwood trees were also mixed with the debris. The
village, too, had been washed away and was then being
rebuilt. We had been told that the tunnel was filled up,
and as far as we knew no one had been to the river since
the flood.

The other outlet was Diamond Creek Canyon, much
farther down the river. We would decide when we got
to Ha Va Su just what we would do.

Tapeets Creek, one mile below our camp, — a stream
which has masqueraded under the title of Thunder

WHAT CHRISTMAS EVE BROUGHT 247

River, and about which there has been considerable
speculation, — proved to be a stream a little smaller than
Bright Angel Creek, flowing through a narrow slot in
the rocks, and did not fall sheer into the river, as has
been reported. Perhaps a small cascade known as Sur-
prise Falls which we passed the next day has been con-
fused with Tapeets Creek. This stream corkscrews down
through a narrow crevice and falls about two hundred
feet, close to the river's edge. We are told that the upper
end of Tapeets Creek is similar to this, but on a much
larger scale.

Just opposite this fall a big mountain-sheep jumped
from under an overhanging ledge close to the water, and
stared curiously at us, as though he wondered what
strange things those were coming down with the current.
It is doubtful if he ever saw a human being before. This
sight sent us scrambling in our cases for cameras and
firearms ; and it was not the game laws, but a rusted
trigger on the six-shooter instead, that saved the sheep.
He finally took alarm and scampered away over the rocks,
and we had no mutton stew that night.

We had one night of heavy rain, and morning revealed
a little snow within three hundred feet of the river, while
a heavy white blanket covered the upper cliff's. It con-
tinued to snow on top, and rained on us nearly all this
day. Emery took this opportunity to get the drop of
moisture out of the lens, and put the camera in such shape

248 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

that we could proceed with our picture making. A
short run was made after this work was completed.

The camp we were just leaving was about three miles
above Kanab Canyon. The granite was behind us,
disappearing with a steep descent much as it had emerged
at the Hance Trail. There was also a small deposit of
algonkian. This too had been passed, and we were back
in the limestone and sandstone walls similar to the lower
end of Marble Canyon. While the formations were the
same, the canyon differed. The layers were thicker,
the red sandstone and the marble walls were equally
sheer; there was no plateau between. What plateau
this canyon contained lay on top of the red sandstone.
Few peaks rose above this. The canyon had completed
its northern run and was turning back again to the west-
southwest with a great sweep or circle. Less than an
hour's work brought us to Kanab Canyon.

PULLING CLEAR OF A ROCK.

A SHOWER BATH.

CHAPTER XXII

SHORT OF PROVISIONS IN A SUNLESS GORGE

IN the mud at Kanab Canyon we saw an old foot-
print of some person who had come down to the river
through this narrow, gloomy gorge. It was here that
Major Powell terminated his second voyage, on account
of extreme high water. A picture they made showed
their boats floated up in this side canyon. Our stage
was much lower than this. F. S. Dellenbaugh, the
author of "A Canyon Voyage," was a member of this
second expedition. This book had been our guide down
to this point ; we could not have asked for a better
one. Below here we had a general idea of the nature of
the river, and had a set of the government maps, but we
had neglected to provide ourselves with detailed infor-
mation such as this volume gave us.

Evening of the following day found us at Cataract
Creek Canyon, but with a stage of water in the river
nearly fifty feet lower than that which we had seen a
few years before. The narrow entrance of this great

canyon gives no hint of what it is like a few miles above.

249

250 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

The Indian village is in the bottom of a 3OOO-foot
canyon, half a mile wide and three miles long, covered
with fertile fields, peach and apricot orchards. It even
contained a few fig trees. Below the village the canyon
narrowed to a hundred yards, with a level bottom, cov-
ered with a tangle of wild grape vines, cactus, and
cottonwood trees. This section contained the two larg-
est falls, and came to an end about four miles below the
first fall. Then the canyon narrowed, deep and gloomy,
until there was little room for anything but the powerful,
rapidly descending stream. At the lower end it was often
waist deep and fifteen or twenty feet wide. It was no
easy task to go through this gorge. The stream had to
be crossed several times. The canyon terminated in an
extremely narrow gorge 2500 feet deep, dark and gloomy,
one of the most impressive gorges we have ever seen. The
main canyon was similar, with a few breaks on the sides,
those breaks being ledges, or narrow sloping benches that
would extend for miles, only to be brought to an abrupt
end by side canyons. There are many mountain-sheep
in this section, but we saw none either time. We could
see many fresh tracks where they had followed these
ledges around, and had gone up the narrow side canyon.
It was cold in the main canyon, and no doubt the sheep
could be found on the plateaus, which were more open,
and would get sun when the sun shone. This plateau
was 2500 feet above us. At the turn of the canyon we

GRAND CANYON AT MOUTH OF HA VA SU CANYON. MEDIUM HIGH WATER.
NOTE FIGURE. FRONTISPIECE SHOWS SAME PLACE IN LOW WATER.

252 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

of the summer months aided in the case of those plants
and trees which flourish in the fertile soil of Ha Va Su
by the sub-irrigation and the spray from the fall.

After making an inventory of our provisions we
concluded not to try the tedious and uncertain trip up
Cataract Creek. With care and good fortune we would
have enough provisions to last us to Diamond Creek.

With our run the next day the inner gorge continued
to deepen, the walls drew closer together, so that we
now had a narrow gorge hemming us in with 3OOO-foot
walls from which there was no escape. They were about
a fourth of a mile apart at the top. A boat at the foot
of one of these walls was merely an atom. The total
depth of the canyon was close to 4500 feet. There is
nothing on earth to which this gorge can be compared.
Storm-clouds lowered into the chasm in the early morning.
The sky was overcast and threatening. We were travel-
ling directly west again, and no sunlight entered here,
even when the sun shone. The walls had lost their
brighter reds, and what colour they had was dark and
sombre, a dirty brown and dark green predominating.
The mythology of the ancients, with their Inferno and
their River Styx, could hardly conjure anything more
supernatural or impressive than this gloomy gorge.

There were a few bad rapids. One or two had no
shore, others had an inclination to run under one wall,
and had to be run very carefully. If we could not get

SHORT OF PROVISIONS IN A SUNLESS GORGE 253

down alongside of a rapid, we could usually climb out on
the walls at the head of the rapid and look it over from
that vantage point. The one who climbed out would
signal directions to the others, who would run it at once,
and continue on to the next rapid. They would have its
course figured out when the last boat arrived.

One canyon entered from the left, level on the bottom,
and about one hundred feet wide ; it might be a means
of outlet from this canyon, but it is doubtful, for the
marble has a way of ending abruptly and dropping sheer,
with a polished surface that is impossible to climb.

New Year's Eve was spent in this section. The camp
was exceptionally good. A square-sided, oblong section
of rock about fifty feet long had fallen forward from the
base of the cliff. This left a cave-like opening which was
closed at one end with our dark-room tent. High water
had placed a sandy floor, now thoroughly dry, in the
bottom. Under the circumstances we could hardly ask
for anything better. Of driftwood there was none,
and our camp-fires were made of mesquite which grew in
ledges in the rocks ; in one case gathered with a great
deal of labour on the shore opposite our camp, and ferried
across on our boats. If a suitable camp was found after
3.30 P.M., we kept it, rather than run the risk of not find-
ing another until after dark.

Another day, January i, 1912, brought us to the end of
this gorge and into a wider and more open canyon, with

254 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

the country above covered with volcanic peaks and
cinder cones. Blow-holes had broken through the can-
yon walls close to the top of the gorge, pouring streams of
lava down its sides, filling the bottom of the canyon with
several hundred feet of lava. This condition extended
down the canyon for twenty miles or more. Judging
by the amount of lava the eruption must have continued
for a great while. Could one imagine a more wonderful
sight — the turbulent stream checked by the fire flood
from above ! What explosions and rending of rocks
there must have been when the two elements met. The
river would be backed up for a hundred miles ! Each
would be shoved on from behind ! There was no escape !
They must fight it out until one or the other conquered.
But the fire could not keep up forever, and, though tri-
umphant for a period, it finally succumbed, and the stream
proceeded to cut down to the original level.

Two miles below the first lava flow we saw what we
took to be smoke and hurried down wondering if we would
find a prospector or a cattle rustler. We agreed, if it was
the latter, to let them off if they would share with us.
But the smoke turned out to be warm springs, one of
them making quite a stream which fell twenty feet into
the river. Here in the river was a cataract, called Lava
Falls, so filled with jagged pieces of the black rock that
a portage was advisable. The weather had not moder-
ated any in the last week, and we were in the water a

SHORT OF PROVISIONS IN A SUNLESS GORGE 255

great deal as we lifted and lined the boats over the rocks
at the edge of the rapids. We would work in the water
until numbed with the cold, then would go down to the
warm springs and thaw out for a while. This was a little
quicker than standing by the fire, but the relief was only
temporary. This portage was finished the next morning.

Another portage was made this same day, and the
wide canyon where Major Powell found some Indian
gardens was passed in the afternoon. The Indians were
not at home when the Major called. His party felt
they were justified in helping themselves to some pump-
kins or squash, for their supplies were very low, and they
could not go out to a settlement — as we expected to do
in a day or two — and replenish them.

We found the fish would not bite, just as our friend,
the miner, had said, but we did succeed in landing a
fourteen-pound salmon, in one of the deep pools not many
miles from this point, and it was served up in steaks the
next day. If our method of securing the salmon was
unsportsmanlike, we excused ourselves for the methods
used, just as Major Powell justified his appropriation of
the Indians' squash. If that fish was ever needed, it
was then, and it was a most welcome addition to our
rapidly disappearing stock of provisions. We were only
sorry we had not taken more "bait."

The next day we did see a camp-fire, and on climbing
the shore, found a little old prospector, clad in tattered

256 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

garments, sitting in a little dugout about five feet square,
which he had shovelled out of the sand. He had roofed
it with mesquite and an old blanket. A rapid, just below,
made so much noise that he did not hear us until we were
before his door. He looked at the rubber coats and the
life-preservers, then said, with a matter-of-fact drawl,
"Well, you fellows must have come by the river !" After
talking awhile he asked :

"What do you call yourselves ?" This question
would identify him as an old-time Westerner if we did
not already know it. At one time it was not considered
discreet to ask any one in these parts what their name
was, or where they were from. He gave us a great deal
of information about the country, and said that Diamond
Creek was about six miles below. He had come across
from Diamond Creek by a trail over a thousand foot
ridge, with a burro and a pack mule, a month before.
He had just been out near the top on the opposite side,
doing some assessment work on some copper claims,
crossing the river on a raft, and stated that on a previous
occasion he had been drawn over the rapid, but got out.

When he learned that we had come through Utah, he
stated that he belonged near Vernal, and had once been
upset in the upper canyons, about twenty years before.
He proved to be the Snyder of whom we had heard at
Linwood, and also from the Chews, who had given him a
horse so he could get out over the mountains. Yet here

SHORT OF PROVISIONS IN A SUNLESS GORGE 257

he was, a thousand miles below, cheerful as a cricket,
and sure that a few months at the most would bring him
unlimited wealth. He asked us to "share his chuck"
with him, but we could see nothing but a very little flour,
and a little bacon, so pleaded haste and pushed on for
Diamond Creek.

The mouth of this canyon did not look unlike others
we had seen in this section, and one could easily pass it
without knowing that it ran back with a gentle slope for
twenty miles, and that a wagon road came down close
to the river. It contained a small, clear stream. The
original tourist camp in the Grand Canyon was located up
this canyon. We packed all our plates and films, ready
to take them out. The supplies left in the boats when
we went out the next morning were :

5 pounds of flour, partly wet and crusted.

2 pounds mildewed Cream of Wheat.

3 or 4 cans (rusty) of dried beef.
Less than one pound of sugar.

We carried a lunch out with us. This was running
a little too close for comfort.

The mouth of Diamond Creek Canyon was covered
with a growth of large mesquite trees. Cattle trails
wound through this thorny thicket down to the river's
edge. The trees thinned out a short distance back, and
the canyon widened as it receded from the river. A half
mile back from the river was the old slab building that

258 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

had served as headquarters for the campers. Here the
canyon divided, one containing the small stream heading
in the high walls to the southeast ; while the other branch
ran directly south, heading near the railroad at the little
flag-station of Peach Springs, twenty-three miles distant.
It was flat-bottomed, growing wider and more valley-
like with every mile, but not especially interesting to
one who had seen the glory of all the canyons. Floods
had spoiled what had once been a very passable stage
road, dropping 4000 feet in twenty miles, down to the
very depths of the Grand Canyon. Some cattle, driven
down by the snows, were sunning themselves near the
building. Our appearance filled them with alarm, and
they "high tailed it" to use a cattle man's expression,
scampering up the rocky slopes.

A deer's track was seen in a snow-drift away from the
river. On the sloping walls in the more open sections of
this valley grew the stubby-thorned chaparral. The hack-
berry and the first specimens of the palo verde were found
in this vicinity. The mesquite trees seen at the mouth
of the canyon were real trees — about the size of a large
apple tree — not the small bushes we had seen at the
Little Colorado. All the growth was changing as we
neared the lower altitudes and the mouth of the Grand
Canyon, being that of the hot desert, which had found this
artery or avenue leading to the heart of the rocky pla-
teaus and had pushed its way into this foreign land.

SHORT OF PROVISIONS IN A SUNLESS GORGE 259

Even the animal life of the desert has followed this
same road. Occasional Gila monsters, which are sup-
posed to belong to the hot desert close to the Mexico line,
have been found at Diamond Creek, and lizards of the
Mojave Desert have been seen as far north as the foot of
Bright Angel Trail.

But we saw little animal life at this time. There were
occasional otters disporting themselves near our boats, in
one instance unafraid, in another raising a gray-bearded
head near our boat with a startled look in his eyes.
Then he turned and began to swim on the surface until
our laughter caused him to dive. Tracks of the civet-
cat or the ring-tailed cat — that large-eyed and large-eared
animal, somewhat like a raccoon and much resembling a
weasel — were often seen along the shores. The gray fox,
the wild-cat, and the coyote, all natives of this land, kept
to the higher pinon-covered hills. The beaver seldom
penetrates into the deep canyons because of the lack of
vegetation, but is found in all sections in the open coun-
try from the headwaters to the delta in Mexico.

We went out by this canyon on January the 5th, and
returned Sunday, January the 8th, bringing enough pro-
visions to last us to the end of the big canyon. We im-
agined we would have no trouble getting what we needed
in the open country below that. We sent some telegrams
and received encouraging answers to them before re-
turning. With us were two brothers, John and Will

260 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

Nelson, cattle men who had given us a cattle man's
welcome when we arrived at Peach Springs. There was
no store at Peach Springs, and they supplied us with the
provisions that we brought back. They drove a wagon
for about half the distance, then the roads became im-
passable, so they unhitched and packed their bedding and
our provisions in to the river. The Nelsons were anxious
to see us run a rapid or two.

We found the nights to be just as cold on top as they
ever get in this section — a little below zero — although
the midday sun was warm enough to melt the snow and
make it slushy. I arrived at the river with my feet so
swollen that I had difficulty in walking, a condition
brought on by a previous freezing they had received,
being wet continually by the icy water in my boat —
which was leaking badly since we left Bright Angel —
and the walk out through the slush. I was glad there was
little walking to do when once at the river, and changed my
shoes for arctics, which were more roomy and less painful.

On the upper part of our trip there were occasional
days when Emery was not feeling his best, while I had
been most fortunate and had little complaint to make;
now things seemed to be reversed. Emery, and Bert
too, were having the time of their lives, while I was
"getting mine" in no small doses.1

1 While Major Powell was making his second voyage of exploration, another
party was toiling up these canyons towing their boats from the precipitous shores.

SHORT OF PROVISIONS IN A SUNLESS GORGE 261

We had always imagined that the Grand Canyon
lost its depth and impressiveness below Diamond Creek.
We were to learn our mistake. The colour was missing,
that was true, for the marble and sandstone walls were
brown, dirty, or colourless, with few of the pleasing tones
of the canyon found in the upper end. But it was still
the Grand Canyon. We were in the granite again —
granite just as deep as any we had seen above, it may
have been a little deeper, and in most cases it was very
sheer. There was very little plateau, the limestone and
sandstone rose above that, just as they had above
Kanab Canyon. The light-coloured walls could not be
seen.

Many of the rapids of this lower section were just as

This party was under the leadership of Lieutenant Wheeler of the U. S. Army. The party
was large, composed of twenty men, including a number of Mojave Indians, in the
river expedition, while others were sent overland with supplies to the mouth of Diamond
Creek. By almost superhuman effort they succeeded in getting their boats up the
canyon as far as Diamond Creek. While there is no doubt that they reached this
point, there were times when we could hardly believe it was possible when we saw
the walls they would have to climb in this granite gorge. In some places there
seemed to be no place less than five hundred feet above the river where they could
secure a foothold. Their method was to carry a rope over these places, then pull the
boats up through the rapids by main force. It would be just as easy to pull a heavy
rowboat up the gorge of Niagara, as through some of these rapids. Their best plan,
by far, would have been to haul their boats in at Diamond Creek and make the descent,
as they did after reaching this point. The only advantage their method gave them was
a knowledge of what they would meet with on the downstream run. Lieutenant Wheeler
professed to disbelieve that Major Powell had descended below Diamond Creek, and
called his voyage the completion of the exploration of the Colorado River. In a four
days' run they succeeded in covering the same distance that had taken four weeks of
endless toil, to bring their boats up to this point.

262 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

bad as any we had gone over ; one or two have been con-
sidered worse by different parties. Two hours after
leaving the Nelsons we were halted by a rapid that made
us catch our breath. It was in two sections — the lower
one so full of jagged rocks that it meant a wrecked boat.
The upper part fell about twenty feet we should judge
and was bad enough. It was a question if we could
run this and keep from going over the lower part. If we
made a portage, our boats would have to be taken three
or four hundred feet up the side of the cliff. The rapid
was too strong to line a boat down. We concluded to
risk running the first part. Bert climbed to the head
of the second section of the rapid, where a projecting point
of granite narrowed the stream, and formed a quiet eddy
just above the foaming plunge. If we could keep out
of the centre and land here we would be safe. Our shoes
were removed, our trousers were rolled to our knees and
we removed our coats. If we had to swim there, we
were going to be prepared. The life-preservers were
well inflated, and tied ; then we made the plunge, Emery
taking the lead, I following close behind. Our plan was
to keep as near the shore as possible. Once I thought
it was all over when I saw the Edith pulled directly for a
rock in spite of all Emery could do to pull away. Nothing
but a rebounding wave saved him. I went through the
same experience. Several times we were threatened
with an upset, but we landed in safety. The portage

SHORT OF PROVISIONS IN A SUNLESS GORGE 263

was short and easy. Flat granite rocks were covered
with a thin coat of ice. The boats were unloaded and
slid across, then dropped below the projecting rock. The
Defiance skidded less than two feet and struck a project-
ing knob of rock the size of a goose egg. It punctured the
side close to the stern, fortunately above the water line,
and the wood was not entirely broken away.

Two miles below this we found another bad one.
This was lined while Bert got supper up in a little sloping
canyon ; about as uncomfortable a camp as we had found.
Many of the rapids run the next day were violent. The
river seemed to be trying to make up for lost time. We
passed a canyon coming from the south containing two
streams, one clear, and one muddy. The narrowest
place we had seen on the river was a rapid run this day,
not over forty feet wide. Evening brought us to a rapid
with a lateral canyon coming in from each side, that on
the right containing a muddy stream. The walls were
sheer and jagged close to the rapid, with a break on the
rugged slopes here and there. A sloping rock in the
middle of the stream could be seen in the third section
of the rapid. This was Separation Rapid, the point
where the two Howland brothers and Dunn parted com-
pany with Major Powell and his party.

From our camp at the left side we could easily figure
out a way to the upper plateau. Above that they would
have a difficult climb as far as we could tell. That they

264 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

did reach the top is well known. They met a tragic
fate. The second day after getting out they were killed
by some Indians — the Shewits Utes — who had treated
them hospitably at first and provided them with some-
thing to eat. That night a visiting Indian brought a
tale of depredations committed by some miners against
another section of their tribe. These men were believed
to be the guilty parties, and they were ambushed the
next morning. Their fate remained a mystery for a
year ; then a Ute was seen with a watch belonging to one
of the men. Later a Mormon who had a great deal of
influence with the Indians got their story from them,
and reported to Major Powell what he had learned. It
was a deplorable and a tragic ending to what otherwise
was one of the most successful, daring, and momentous
explorations ever undertaken on this continent.

We find there is a current belief that it was cowardice
and fear of this one rapid that caused these men to sep-
arate from the party. The more one hears of this sep-
aration, the more it seems that it was a difference of
opinion on many matters, and not this one rapid, that
caused them to leave. These men had been trappers
and hunters, one might say pioneers, and one had been
with Major Powell before the river exploration. They
had gone through all the canyons, and had come through
this far without a fatality. They had seen a great many
rapids nearly as bad as this, and several that were worse,

SHORT OF PROVISIONS IN A SUNLESS GORGE 265

if one could judge by its nature when we found it. They
were not being carried by others, but had charge of one
boat. They did smash one boat in Disaster Rapid in
Lodore Canyon, and at that time they claimed Major
Powell gave them the wrong signal. This caused some
feeling.

At the time of the split, the food question was a serious
one. There were short rations for a long time ; in fact
there was practically no food. After an observation,
Major Powell informed them that they were within forty-
five miles of the Virgin River, in a direct line. Much
of the country between the end of the canyon and the
Virgin River was open, a few Mormon settlements
could be found up the Virgin Valley. He offered them
half of the small stock of provisions, when they per-
sisted in leaving, but they refused to take any provisions
whatever, feeling sure that they could kill enough game
to subsist on. This one instance would seem to be
enough to clear them of the stigma of cowardice. The
country on top was covered with volcanic cinders. There
was little water to be found, and in many ways it was
just as inhospitable as the canyon. The cook had a
pan of biscuits, which he left on a rock for them, after
the men had helped the party lift the boats over the rocks
at the head of the rapid. After landing in safety around
a bend which hid them from sight, the boating party
fired their guns, hoping they would hear the report, and

266 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

follow in the abandoned boat. It is doubtful if they
could hear the sound of the guns, above the roar of the
rapid. If they did, they paid no attention to it. The
younger Rowland wished to remain with the party, but
threw his lot with his brother, when he withdrew.

While these men did not have the Major's deep scien-
tific interest in the successful completion of this explora-
tion, they undoubtedly should have stayed with their
leader, if their services were needed or desired. It is more
than likely that they were insubordinate ; they certainly
made a misguided attempt, but in spite of these facts it
scarcely seems just to brand them as cowards. Two
days after they left, the boating party was camped at the
end of the canyons.

CHAPTER XXIII

THE LAST PORTAGE AND THE LAST RAPIDS

THE first section of Separation Rapid was run the
first thing in the morning, a manoeuvre that was accom-
plished by starting on the left shore and crossing the
swift centre clear to the other shore. This allowed us to
reach some quiet water near a small deposit of rock and
earth at the base of the sheer wall. Two feet of water
would have covered this deposit ; likewise two feet of
water would have given us a clear channel over this
second section. As it was, the rapid was rough, with many
rocks very near the surface. Directly across from us,
close to the left shore, was what looked like a ten-foot
geyser, or fountain of water. This was caused by a rock
in the path of a strong current rebounding from the shore.
The water ran up on the side near the wall, then fell on
all sides. It was seldom the water had force enough to
carry to the top of a rock as large as that. This portage
of the second section was one of the easiest we had made.
By rolling a few large rocks around we could get a stream
of water across our small shore large enough to float an

267

268 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

empty boat with a little help, so we lightened them of the
cargo and floated them through our canal. While run-
ning the third section the Edith was carried up on the
sloping rock in the middle of the stream ; she paused a
moment, then came down like a shot and whirled around
to the side without mishap. This made the thirteenth
rapid in which both boats were lined or portaged. In
three other rapids one boat was run through and one was
portaged. Half of all these rapids were located in the
Grand Canyon.

All this time we were anxiously looking forward to a
rapid which Mr. Stone had described as being the worst in
the entire series, also thelast rapid we wouldbe likely to port-
age and had informed us that below this particular rapid
everything could be run with little or no inspection. Nat-
urally we were anxious to get that rapid behind us. It was
described as being located below a small stream flowing
from the south. The same rapid was described by Major
Powell as having a bold, lava-capped escarpment at the
head of the rapid, on the right. We had not seen any
lava since leaving Diamond Creek, and an entry in my
notes reads, "we have gone over Stone's 'big rapid' three
times and it is still ahead of us." The knowledge that
there was a big rapid in the indefinite somewhere that
was likely to cause us trouble seemed to give us more
anxious moments than the many unmentioned rapids
we were finding all this time. We wondered how high

THE LAST PORTAGE AND THE LAST RAPIDS 269

the escarpment was, and if we could take our boats over
its top. We tried to convince ourselves that it was
behind us, although sure that it could not be. But the
absence of lava puzzled us. After one "bad" rapid and
several "good" rapids we came to a sharp turn in the
canyon. Emery was ahead and called back, "I see a
little stream"; Bert joined with "I see the lava"; and
the "Bold Escarpment Rapid," as we had been calling
it for some time, was before us. It was more than a nasty
rapid, it was a cataract !

What a din that water sent up ! We had to yell to
make ourselves heard. The air vibrated with the im-
pact of water against rock. The rapid was nearly half a
mile long. There were two sections near its head stag-
gered with great rocks, forty of them, just above or
slightly submerged under the surface of the water. Our
low stage of water helped us, so that we did not have to
line the boats from the ledge, eighty feet above the water,
as others had done. The rapid broke just below the
lower end of the sheer rock, which extended twenty feet
beyond the irregular shore. The Edith went first, headed
upstream, at a slight angle nearly touching the wall,
dropping a few inches between each restraining stroke of
the oars. Bert crouched on the bow, ready to spring
with the rope, as soon as Emery passed the wall and
headed her in below the wall. Jumping to the shore, he
took a snub around a boulder and kept her from being

270 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

dragged into the rapid. Then they both caught the
Defiance as she swung in below the rock, and half the
battle was won before we tackled the rapid.

Our days were short, and we did not take the boats
down until the next day ; but we did carry much of the
camp material and cargo halfway down over ledges a
hundred feet above the river. For a bad rapid we were
very fortunate in getting past it as easily as we did. Logs
were laid over rocks, the boats were skidded over them
about their own length and dropped in again. Logs
and boats were lined down in the swift, but less riotous
water, to the next barrier, which was more difficult. A
ten-foot rounded boulder lay close to the shore, with
smaller rocks, smooth and ice-filmed, scattered between.
Powerful currents swirled between these rocks and dis-
appeared under two others, wedged closely together on
top. Three times the logs were snatched from our grasp
as we tried to bridge them across this current, and they
vanished in the foam, to shoot out end first, twenty feet
below and race away on the leaping water. A boat
would be smashed to kindling-wood if once carried under
there. At last we got our logs wedged, and an hour of
tugging, in which only two men could take part at
the same time, landed both boats in safety below this
barrier. We shot the remainder of the rapid on water
so swift that the oars were snatched from our hands if
we tried to do more than keep the boats straight

(pi

H. LAUZON. E. L. KOLB. Copyright by Kolb Bros.
THE LAST PORTAGE. THE ROCKS WERE ICE-FILMED. NOTE POTHOLES.

THE LAST PORTAGE AND THE LAST RAPIDS 271

with the current. That rapid was no longer the "Bold
Escarpment," but the "Last Portage" instead, and it
was behind us.

The afternoon was half gone when we made ready
to pull away from the Last Portage. There were other
rapids, but scarcely a pause was made in our two-hour run,
and we camped away from the roar of water. The
canyon was widening out a little at a time ; the granite
disappeared in the following day's run, at noon. Grass-
covered slopes, with seeping mineral springs, took the
place of precipitous walls ; they dropped to 2500 feet
in height ; numerous side canyons cut the walls in regu-
lar sections like gigantic city blocks, instead of an un-
broken avenue. Small rapids continued to appear,
there were a few small islands, and divided currents, so
shallow they sometimes kept us guessing which one to
take, but we continued to run them all without a pause.
We would have run out of the canyon that day but for
one thing. Five mountain-sheep were seen from our
boats in one of the sloping grassy meadows above the
river. We landed below, carried our cameras back, and
spent half an hour in trying to see them again, but they
had taken alarm.

Placer claim locations and fresh burro tracks were
seen in the sand at our last Grand Canyon camp, and a
half mile below us we could see out into open country.
We found the walls, or the end of the table-land, to be

272 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

about two thousand feet high, with the canyon emerging
at a sharp angle so that a narrow ridge, or "hogs-back,"
lay on the left side of the stream. Once out in the open,
the walls were seen to be quite steep, but could be climbed
to the top almost any place without trouble. Saturday,
January the I3th, we were out of the canyon at last, and
the towering walls, now friendly, now menacing, were
behind us. Three hundred and sixty-five large rapids,
and nearly twice as many small rapids, were behind us
and the dream of ten years was an accomplished fact.
But best of all, there were no tragedies or fatalities to
record. Perhaps we did look a little the worse for wear,
but a few days away from the river would repair all that.
The boats had a bump here and there, besides the one
big patch on the Edith; a little mending and a little
caulking would put both the Edith and Defiance in first-
class condition.

There is little of interest to record of our 175-mile
run to Needles, California. It was a land of desolation
— an extension of the Mojave Desert on the south, and
the alkaline flats and mineral mountains of Nevada on the
north, of Death Valley and the Funeral Mountains of Califor-
nia to the northwest — a burned-out land of grim-looking
mountains extending north and south across our way ; a
dried-out, washed-out, and wind-swept land of extensive
flats and arroyos ; a land of rock and gravel cemented in
marls and clay ; ungraced with any but the desert plants, —

THE LAST PORTAGE AND THE LAST RAPIDS 273

cactus and thorny shrubs, — with little that was pleasing
or attractive. A desert land it is true, but needing only
the magic touch of water to transform much of it into a
garden spot. Even as it was, a few months later it
would be covered with the flaming blossoms of the desert
growth, which seem to try to make amends in one or
two short months for nearly a year of desolation.

A wash ran along the base of the plateau from which
we had emerged. An abandoned road and ferry showed
that this had once been a well-travelled route. The
stream had a good current and we pulled away, only
stopping once to see the last of our plateau before a turn
and deepening banks hid it from view. We wondered
if the water ever dropped in a precipitous fall over the
face of the wall and worked back, a little every year, as
it does at Niagara. We could hardly doubt that there
were some such falls back in the dim past when these
canyons were being carved.

In the middle of the afternoon we passed a ranch or
a house with a little garden, occupied by two miners,
who hailed us from the shore. A half-mile below was the
Scanlon Ferry, a binding tie between Arizona, on the
south and what was now Nevada, on the north, for we
had reached the boundary line shortly after emerging
from the canyon. We still travelled nearly directly west.
The ferry was in charge of a Cornishman who also had
as pretty a little ranch as one could expect to find in

274 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

such an unlikely place. A purling stream of water,
piped from somewhere up in the hills, had caused the
transformation. The ranch was very homey with cattle
and horses, sheep and hogs, dogs and cats, all sleek and
contented-looking. The garden proved that this country
had a warm climate, although we were not suffering from
heat at that time. An effort was being made to grow
some orange trees, but with little promise of success ;
there were fig trees and date-palms, with frozen dates
hanging on the branches, one effect of the coldest winter
they had seen in this section.

The rancher told us he could not sell us anything that
had to be brought in, for it was seventy miles to the
railroad, but we could look over such supplies as he had.
It ended by his selling us a chicken, two dozen eggs,
five pounds of honey, and ten pounds of flour, — all for
$2.50. We did not leave until the next morning, then
bought another jar of honey, for we had no sugar, and two-
thirds of the first jar was eaten before we left the ferry.

We pulled away in such a hurry the next morning
that we forgot an axe that had been carried with us for
the entire journey. A five-hour run brought us to the
mouth of the Virgin River, a sand-bar a mile wide, and
with a red-coloured stream little larger than Cataract
Creek winding through it. We had once seen this stream
near its head waters, a beautiful mountain creek, that
seemed to bear no relation to this repulsive-looking stream

THE LAST PORTAGE AND THE LAST RAPIDS 275

that entered from the north. A large, flat-topped, adobe
building, apparently deserted, stood off at one side of the
stream. This was the head of navigation for flat-
bottomed steamboats that once plied between here
and the towns on the lower end of the river. They
carried supplies for small mines scattered through the
mountains and took out cargoes of ore, and of rock salt
which was mined back in Nevada.

It was here at the Virgin River that Major Powell
concluded his original voyage of exploration. Some of
his men took the boats on down to Fort Mojave, a few
miles above Needles ; afterwards two of the party con-
tinued on to the Gulf. The country below the Vir-
gin River had been explored by several parties, but pre-
vious to this time nothing definite was known of the
gorges until this exploration by this most remarkable
man. The difficulties of this hazardous trip were in-
creased for him by the fact that he had lost an arm in
the Civil War.

It is usually taken for granted that the United States
government was back of this exploration. This was
true of the second expedition, but not of the first. Major
Powell was aided to a certain extent by the State College
of Illinois, otherwise he bore all the expense himself.
He received $10,000 from the government to apply on
the expenses of the second trip.

We felt that we had some reason to feel a justifiable

276 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

pride for having duplicated, in some ways, this arduous
journey. It was impossible for us to do more than guess
what must have been the feelings and anxieties of this
explorer. Added to the fact that we had boats, tested
and constructed to meet the requirements of the river,
and the benefit of others' experiences, was a knowledge
that we were not likely to be precipitated over a waterfall,
or if we lost everything and succeeded in climbing out,
that there were a few ranches and distant settlements
scattered through the country.

But we had traversed the same river and the same
canyons which change but little from year to year, and
had succeeded beyond our fondest hopes in having ac-
complished what we set out to do.

The Black Mountains, dark and forbidding, composed
of a hard rock which gave a metallic clink, and deco-
rated with large spots of white, yellow, vermilion, and
purple deposits of volcanic ashes, were entered this af-
ternoon. The peaks were about a thousand feet high.
The passage between is known as Boulder Canyon.
Here we met two miners at work on a tunnel, or drift,
who informed us that it was about forty miles to Las
Vegas, Nevada, and that it was only twenty-five miles
from the mouth of Las Vegas Wash, farther down the
river, to this same town and the railroad.

Fort Callville — an abandoned rock building, con-
structed by the directions of Brigham Young, without

THE LAST PORTAGE AND THE LAST RAPIDS 277

windows or roof, and surrounded by stone corrals —
was passed the next day. At Las Vegas Wash the river
turned at right angles, going directly south, holding with
very little deviation to this general direction until it
empties into the Gulf of California nearly five hundred
miles away. The river seemed to be growing smaller
as we got out in the open country. Like all Western
rivers, when unprotected by canyons, it was sinking in
the sand. Sand-bars impeded our progress at such places
as the mouth of the Wash. But we had a good current,
without rapids in Black Canyon, which came shortly
below, and mile after mile was put behind us before we
camped for the night.

An old stamp-mill, closed for the time, but in charge
of three men who were making preparations to resume
work, was passed the next day. They had telephone
communication with Searchlight, Nevada, twenty odd
miles away, and we sent out some telegrams in that way.

More sand-bars were encountered the next day, and
ranches began to appear on both sides of the river. We
had difficulty on some of these bars. In places the river
bed was a mile wide, with stagnant pools above the sand,
and with one deep channel twisting between. At Fort
Mojave, now an Indian school and agency, we tele-
phoned to some friends in Needles, as we had promised
to do, telling them we would arrive about noon of the
following day. We made a mistake in not camping at

278 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

the high ground by the "fort" that night, for just below
the river widened again and the channel turned out in
the centre. It was getting dark and we had entered this
before noticing which way it turned, and had a hard pull
back to the shore, for we had no desire to camp out there
in the quicksand. The shore was little more desirable.
It was a marsh, covered with a growth of flags and tules,
but with the ground frozen enough so that we did not sink.
Our last camp — No. 76 — was made in this marsh.
There we spent the night, hidden like hunted savages
in the cane-brake, while an Indian brass band played
some very good music for an officers' ball, less than half
a mile away.

We were up and away with the sun the next morn-
ing. On nearing Needles, a friend met us on the out-
skirts of the town and informed us that they had ar-
ranged what he called an official landing and reception.
At his request we deferred going down at once, but busied
ourselves instead at packing our cargo, ready for ship-
ping. Our friend had secured the services of a motion-
picture operator and our own camera was sent down to
make a picture of the landing, which was made as he had
arranged.

We landed in Needles January 1 8, 1912 ; one month from
the time of our start from Bright Angel Trail, with a total
of one hundred and one days spent along the river. In
that time our camps had been changed seventy-six times.

WATCHING FOR THE SIGNAL FIRE. MRS.

Copyrigru uy Kolb tiros.
EMERY AND EDITH KOLB.

THE LAST PORTAGE AND THE LAST RAPIDS 279

Our two boats, highly prized as souvenirs of our twelve
hundred mile trip, and which had carried us through
three hundred and sixty-five big rapids, over a total de-
scent of more than five thousand feet, were loaded on cars
ready for shipment; the Edith to Los Angeles, the De-
fiance to the Grand Canyon.

Among other mail awaiting us was the following letter,
bearing the postmark of Hite, Utah :

" KOLB BROS.,
" DEAR FRIENDS :

"Well I got here at last after seventeen days in
Cataract Canyon. The old boat will stand a little quiet
water but will never go through another rapid. I cer-
tainly played ' ring-a-round ' some of those rocks in
Cataract Canyon ; I tried every scheme I had ever
heard of, and some that were never thought of before.
At the last rapid in Cataract I carried all my stuff over
the cliff, then tried to line the boat from the narrow ledge.
The boat jerked me into the river, but I did not lose my
hold on the chain and climbed on board. I had no oars,
but managed to get through without striking any rocks,
and landed a mile and a half below the supplies. I hope
the ' movies' are good.1

" Sincerely yours,

"CHAS. SMITH."

1 See appendix, History of Cataract Canyon.

CONCLUSION. HOW I WENT TO MEXICO
CHAPTER XXIV

ON THE CREST OF A FLOOD

A WESTWARD-BOUND train was bearing me across the
Mojave Desert one day in May. In a few swiftly passing
hours we had made a six-thousand foot descent from the
plateau with its fir and aspen-covered mountain, its cedar
and pinon-clothed foot-hills, and its extensive forests of
yellow pine. Crimson and yellow-flowered cactus, sage
and chaparral, succeeded the pines. The cool mountains
had given way to burned-out, umber-coloured hills, rock-
ribbed arroyos, and seemingly endless desert; and the
sun was growing hotter every minute.

If the heat continued to increase, I doubted if I would
care to take a half-planned Colorado River trip down
to the Gulf. Visions of the California beaches, of fishing
at Catalina and of horseback rides over the Sierra's trails,
nearly unsettled my determination to stop at Needles,
on the California side of the river. This was my vaca-
tion ! Why undergo all the discomfort of a voyage on
a desert stream, when the pleasures and comforts of the

Pacific beckoned ? One thing was sure, if I was not

280

ON THE CREST OF A FLOOD 28l

successful in securing a boat at Needles, the very next
train would find me on board, bound for the Western
Slope. By mid-afternoon the chaparral had disap-
peared and only the cactus remained — the ocotilla,
covered with a million flowers, wave upon wave of crim-
son flame, against the yellow earth. Violet-veiled moun-
tains appeared in the west, marking the southern trend
of the Colorado. The air was suffocating. The train-
created wind was like a blast from a furnace; yet with
the electric fans whirring, with blinds drawn and windows
closed to keep the withering air out, it seemed a little less
uncomfortable in the car, in spite of the unvitalized air,
than under the scorching sun.

We were beside the Colorado at last. I had a good
view of the stream below, as we crossed the bridge —
the Colorado in flood, muddy, turbulent, sweeping on-
ward like an affrighted thing, — repulsive, yet with a
fascination for me, born of an intimate acquaintance
with the dangers of this stream. The river had called
The heat was forgotten, the visions of the coast
faded, for me the train could not reach Needles, ten
miles up the river, quickly enough.

With my brother, I had followed this stream down
to Needles, through a thousand miles of canyon. I had
seen how it carved its way through the mountains, carry-
ing them on, in solution, toward the ocean. At last I
would see what became of all these misplaced mountains

282 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON^ FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

I would see the tidal bore as it swept in from the Gulf.
I had heard there were wild hogs which burrowed through
the cane-b'rake. It may be that I would learn of a vessel
at some port down on the Mexican coast, which I might
reach and which would take me around the Lower Cali-
fornia Peninsula. I felt sure there was such a port. No
doubt I could have found books to tell me exactly what
I would see, but too much information would spoil all
the romance of such an adventure. It was all very
alluring. With the spring flood on, the river could not
help but be interesting and exciting, a pretty good imita-
tion of the rapids, perhaps. If I could only secure a boat !

Half an hour later I was meeting old acquaintances
about the hotel, connected with the station. The genial
hotel manager, with the Irish name, was smilingly ex-
plaining to some newcomers that this was not hot ; that
"a dry heat at no degrees was not nearly as bad as 85
degrees back in Chicago," " and as for heat, " he continued,
"why down in Yuma" — then he caught sight of me,
with a grin on my face, and perhaps he remembered that
I had heard him say the same thing two years before,
when it was even hotter; and he came over with out-
stretched hand, — calling me uncomplimentary names,
under his breath, for spoiling the effect of his explanation ;
all which was belied by his welcome. It takes an Irish-
man to run a big hotel in the middle of the desert.

A few inquiries brought out the information that I

ON THE CREST OF A FLOOD 283

was not likely to get a boat. The stores did not keep
them. I should have given my order two weeks before
to an Indian who built boats to order at $2.00 a foot.
This was a new one on me. Suppose a fellow wanted —
well, say, about $15.00 worth. It would look something
like a tub, wouldn't it ? Perhaps it was to be the coast,
for me, after all.

The Colorado River in flood is a terrible stream.
Unlike the Eastern rivers, there are no populous cities —
with apologies to Needles and Yuma — along its shores,
to be inundated with the floods. Unlike the rivers
of the South, few great agricultural districts spread
across its bottoms. Along the upper seven hundred
miles there are not a half-dozen ranches with twenty-five
acres under cultivation. But if destructive power and
untamed energy are terrible, the Colorado River,
in flood, is a terrible stream.

After changing into some comfortable clothes I
sauntered past the railway machine shops down to
the river, and up to where a fight was being waged to
save the upper part of the town from being torn away
by the flood. For a month past, car after car of rock
had been dumped along the river bank, only to disappear
in the quicksands ; and as yet no bottom had been
reached. Up to this point the fight was about equal.
The flood would not reach its crest until two or three
weeks later.

284 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

Beyond a fisherman or two there were few men by
the river. The workmen had finished their day's labour.
A ferryman said that I might talk an Indian into selling
his boat, but it was doubtful. My next job was to find
such an Indian.

A big, greasy Mojave buck lay on an uncovered, rusty
bed spring, slung on a home-made frame, before his
willow and adobe home, close to the Colorado River. In
answer to my repeated question he uncoiled and stretched
the full length of his six foot six couch, grunted a few
words in his native tongue to other Indians without a
glance in my direction, then indifferently closed his eyes
again. A young Indian in semi-cowboy garb, — not
omitting a gorgeous silk handkerchief about his neck, —
jabbered awhile with some grinning squaws, then said in
perfectly understandable English, "He will sell his boat
for $18.00. It is worth $30.00." This was decisive for
an Indian. It usually takes a half-day of bickering to
get them to make any kind of a bargain. I told him I
would take it in the morning.

It was a well-constructed boat, almost new, built of
inch pine, flat-bottomed, and otherwise quite similar in
shape to the boats my brother and I had used on
our twelve hundred mile journey through the canyons
of the Green and Colorado rivers, — but without the
graceful lines and swells that made those other boats so
valuable to us in rapids. The boat was nearly new and

ON THE CREST OF A FLOOD 285

well worth $30.00, as boat prices went in that town.
Why he was willing to sell it for $18.00, or at the rate
of $1.00 a foot, I could not imagine. It was the first
bargain an Indian had ever offered me. But if I paid
for it that evening, there were doubts in my mind if I
should find it in the morning, so I delayed closing the
bargain and went back again to inspect the boat.

That evening I inquired among my acquaintances if
there was any one who would care to accompany me. If
so I would give them passage to Yuma, or to the Gulf of
California in Mexico, if they wished it. But no one could
go, or those who could, wouldn't. One would have
thought from the stories with which I was regaled, that
the rapids of the Grand Canyon were below Needles, and
as for going to the Gulf, it was suicide. I was told of the
outlaws along the border, of the firearms and opium
smugglers, who shot first and questioned afterward, and
of the insurrectos of Lower California. The river had no
real outlet to the ocean, they said, since the break into
Salton Sea, but spread over a cane-brake, thirty miles or
more in width. Many people had gone into these swamps
and never returned, whether lost in the jungles or killed
by the Cocopah Indians, no one knew. They simply
disappeared. It was all very alluring.

My preparations, the next day, were few. I had in-
cluded a sleeping bag with my baggage. It would come
in equally handy whether I went down on the Colorado

286 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

or up into the Coast Range. A frying-pan, a coffee-pot,
a few metal dishes and provisions for a week were all I
needed. Some one suggested some bent poles, and a
cover, such as are used on wagons to keep off the sun.
This seemed like a good idea ; and I hunted up a carpenter
who did odd jobs. He did not have such a one, but he
did have an old wagon-seat cover, which could be raised
or dropped at will. This was even better, for sometimes
hard winds sweep up the river. The cover was fastened
to the sides of the boat. The boat, meanwhile, had been
thoroughly scrubbed. It looked clean before, but I was
not going to take any chances at carrying Indian live-
stock along with his boat. My surplus baggage was sent
on to Los Angeles, and twenty-four hours after I had
landed in Needles, I was ready to embark.

My experience in camping trips of various sorts has
been that the start from headquarters occupies more time
than any similar preparation. Once on the road, things
naturally arrange themselves into some kind of a system,
and an hour on the road in the evening means several
hours gained the next morning. Added to this, there are
always a number of loafers about railroad towns, and
small things have a way of disappearing. With this
in mind, I determined to make my start that evening,
and at 7 P.M. on the 23d of May, 1913, I embarked on a
six to eight mile an hour current, paced by cottonwood
logs, carried down by the flood from the head waters in
Wyoming, Utah, and Colorado.

ON THE CREST OF A FLOOD 287

When sailing on the unruffled current one did not
notice its swiftness — it sped so quietly yet at the same
time with such deadly intent — until some half sub-
merged cottonwood snags appeared, their jagged, broken
limbs ploughing the stream exactly like the bow of a motor-
driven boat, throwing two diverging lines of waves far
down the stream. One would almost think the boat was
motionless, it raced so smoothly, — and that the snags
were tearing upstream as a river man had said, the day
before, "like a dog with a bone in his teeth." A sunken
stone-boat, with a cabin half submerged, seemed pro-
pelled by some unseen power and rapidly dwindled in
the distance.

So fascinating were these things that I forgot the
approaching night. I first noticed it when the stream
slackened its mad pace and spread over its banks into
great wide marshes, in divided and subdivided channels
and over submerged islands, with nothing but willow and
fuzzy cattail tops to indicate that there was a bottom
underneath. Here there was no place to camp had I
wished to do so. Once I missed the main channel and
had a difficult time in finding my way back in the dark.
After two or three miles of this quiet current, the streams
began to unite again, and the river regained its former
speed. I was growing weary- after the first excitement,
and began to wish myself well out of it all and safely
anchored to the shore. But I knew there was a level

288 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

bank above the river close to the bridge, which would
make a good camping place; so I rested on my oars,
facing down the stream with eyes and ears alert for the
treacherous snags. Then the stars began to appear,
one by one, lighting up the cloudless sky ; a moist, tropi-
cal-like breeze moved up the stream, the channel narrowed
and deepened, the snags vanished, and the stream in-
creased its swiftness.

And with eyes wide open, but unseeing, I dozed.

It was the lights of a passenger train crossing the
bridge, just a short distance away, that made me realize
where I was. The train thundered into the darkness ;
but louder than the roar of the train was that of the
water directly ahead, and hidden in the impenetrable
shadow over on the right shore was a noise much like
that made by a Grand Canyon rapid.

Wide awake now, I pulled for the left, and after
one or two attempts to land, I caught some willow tops
and guided the boat to the raised bank. Beyond the
willows was a higher ground, covered with a mesquite
thicket, with cattle trails winding under the thorny
trees. Here I unrolled my sleeping bag, then went up to
interview the operator and the watchman, and to get a
drink of clear water, for I had no desire to drink the
liquid mud of the Colorado until it was necessary. In
answer to a question I told them of my little ride. One of
the men exclaimed, "You don't mean to say that you

ON THE CREST OF A FLOOD 289

came down on the flood after dark ! " On being informed
that I had just arrived, he exclaimed : "Well I reckon you
don't know what the Colorado is. It's a wonder this
whirlpool didn't break you against the pier. You ought
to have brought some one with you to see you drown !"

CHAPTER XXV

FOUR DAYS TO YUMA

BEFORE sunrise the following morning, I had com-
pleted my few camp duties, finished my breakfast,
and dropped my boat into the whirlpool above the bridge.
My two friends watched the manoeuvre as I pulled clear
of the logs and the piers which caused the water to
make such alarming sounds the night before ; then they
gave me a final word of caution, and the information
that the Parker Bridge was sixty miles away and that
Yuma was two hundred and fifty miles down the stream.
They thought that I should reach Yuma in a week. It
seemed but a few minutes until the bridge was a mile
up the stream. Now I was truly embarked for the
gulf.

By the time I had reached the spire-like mountainous
rocks a few miles below the bridge, which gave the town
of Needles its name, the sun was well up and I was begin-
ning to learn what desert heat was, although I had
little time to think of it as I was kept so busy with my

boat. Here, the stream which was spread a mile wide

290

FOUR DAYS TO YUMA 291

above, had choked down to two hundred feet; small
violent whirlpools formed at the abrupt turns in this
so-called canyon and the water tore from side to side.
In one whirl my boat was twice carried around the circle
into which I had allowed it to be caught, then shot out
on the pounding flood. Soon the slag-like mountains
were passed and the country began to spread, first in a
high barren land, then with a bottom land running back
from the river. The willow bushes changed to willow
trees, tall and spindly, crowded in a thicket down to the
river's edge. The Chemehuevi Indians have their res-
ervation here. On rounding an abrupt turn I surprised
two little naked children, fat as butterballs, dabbling
in a mud puddle close to the stream. The sight, coupled
with the tropical-like heat and the jungle, could well
make one imagine he was in Africa or India, and that the
little brown bodies were the "alligator bait" of which we
read. Only the 'gators were missing. The unexpected
sight of a boat and a white man trying to photograph
them started them both into a frightened squall. Then an
indignant mother appeared, staring at me as though she
would like to know what I had done to her offspring.
Farther along were other squaws, with red and blue lines
pencilled on their childlike, contented faces, seated under the
willows. Their cotton garments, of red and blue bandanna
handkerchiefs sewed together, added a gay bit of colour
to the scene.

292 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

Below this were two or three cozy little ranch houses
and a few scattered cattle ranches, with cattle browsing
back in the trees. All this time it was getting hotter, and
I was thankful for my sheltering cover. My lunch, pre-
pared in the morning, was eaten as I drifted. Except in
a few quiet stretches I did little rowing, just enough
to keep the boat away from the overhanging banks and
in the strong current.

The bottom lands began to build up again with banks
of gravel and clay, growing higher with every mile.
The deciduous trees gave way to the desert growths :
the cholla, "the shower of gold," and the palo verde and
the other acacias. Here were the California or valley-
quail; and lean, long-legged jack-rabbits. Here too
were the coyotes, leaner than the rabbits, but efficient,
shifty-eyed, and insolent. One could admire but could
hardly respect them.

I had entertained hopes of reaching Parker that even-
ing, but supposed the hour would be late if I reached it
at all. Imagine my surprise, then, when at half-past four
I heard the whistle of a train, and another turn revealed
the Parker bridge. I had been told by others that it had
taken them three or four days to reach this point on a
low stage of water. Evidently the high water is much
better for rapid and interesting travel.

Here at the bridge, which was a hundred feet above the
river, was a dredge, and an old flat-bottomed steamboat,

FOUR DAYS TO YUMA 293

a relic of a few years past, before the government built
the Laguna dam above Yuma, and condemned the
Colorado as a navigable stream. Those were the days
which the Colorado steamboat men recall with as much
fond remembrance as the old-time boatmen of the Missis-
sippi remember their palmy days.

In spite of the fact that the boats were flat-bottomed
and small, it was real steamboating of an exciting nature
at least. At times they beat up against the current as
far as the mouth of the Rio Virgin. In low water the
channels shifted back and forth first choked with sand on
one side of the stream, then on the other. While the
total fall from Fort Mojave, a few miles above Needles,
to the Gulf is only 525 feet, considerable of that fall
came in short sections, first with a swift descent, then in a
quiet stretch. Even in the high- water stage I was finding
some such places.

Parker stood a mile back from the river, on top of the
level gravelly earth which stretched for miles on either
side of the river clear to the mountains. This earth
and gravel mixture was so firmly packed that even the
cactus had a scant foothold. The town interested me
for one reason only, this being, that I could get my meals
for the evening and the following morning, instead of
having to cook them myself. After I had eaten them,
however, there was a question in my mind if my own cook-
ing, bad as it was, would not have answered the purpose

294 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

just as well. The place was a new railroad town on an
Indian reservation, a town of great expectations, some-
what deferred.

It was not as interesting to me as my next stop at
Ahrenburg, some fifty miles below Parker. This place,
while nothing but a collection of dilapidated adobe
buildings, had an air of romance about it which was
missing in the newer town. Ahrenburg had seen its day.
Many years ago it was a busy mining camp, and the hope
is entertained by the faithful who still reside in its pictur-
esque adobe homes that it will come back with renewed
vigour. Here at Ahrenburg I met a character who added
greatly to the interest of my stay. He was a gigantic,
raw-boned Frenchman, at that time engaged in the
construction of a motor boat ; but a miner, a sailor, and
a soldier of fortune in many ways, one who had pried into
many of the hidden corners of the country and had a
graphic way of describing what he had seen. I was his
guest until late that night, and was entertained royally
on what humble fare he had to offer. We both intended
to renew our acquaintance in the morning, but some
prowling Mexicans near my boat, croaking frogs, and
swarms of mosquitos gave me a restless night. With the
first glimmer of daylight I was up, and half an hour later
I was away on the flood.

This was my big day. The current was better than
much of that above ; I was getting used to the heat, and,

FOUR DAYS TO YUMA 295

instead of idly drifting, I pulled steadily at the oars.
The river twisted back and forth in great loops with the
strong current, as is usual, always on the outside of the
loops, close to the overhanging banks. I would keep
my boat in this current, with a wary lookout over my
shoulder for fallen trees and sudden turns, which had
a way of appearing when least expected. At some such
places the stream was engaged at undermining the banks
which rose eight and ten feet above the water. Occasional
sections, containing tons of earth and covered with tall,
slender willow trees, would topple over, falling on the
water with the roar of a cannon or a continued salute of
cannons ; for the falling, once started, quite often extended
for half a mile down the stream. At one such place
eighteen trees fell in three minutes, and it would be safe
to say that a hundred trees were included in the extended
fall. The trees, sixty feet high, resembled a field of
gigantic grass or unrip ened grain ; the river was a reaper,
cutting it away at the roots. Over they tumbled to be
buried in the stream; the water would swirl and boil,
earth and trees would disappear ; then the mass of leaf-
covered timber, freed of the earth, would wash away to
lodge on the first sand-bar, and the formation of a new
island or a new shore would begin.

Then again, the banks were barren, composed of
gravel and clay, centuries older than the verdure-covered
land, undisturbed, possibly, since some glacial periodvde-

296 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

posited it there. But a shifting of the channel directed
the attack against these banks. Here the swift current
would find a little irregularity on the surface and would
begin its cutting. The sand-laden water bored exactly
like an auger, in fast-cutting whirls. One such place I
watched for a half-hour from the very beginning, until
the undermined section, fourteen feet high, began to
topple, and I pulled out to safety, but not far enough to
escape a ducking in the resulting wave.

Below this, instead of a firm earth, it was a loose sand
and gravel mixture twenty feet above the river. Here
for half a mile the entire bank was moving, slowly at
the top, gathering speed at the bottom. While close to
this I heard a peculiar hissing as of carbonated water
all about me. At first I thought there were mineral
springs underneath, but found the noise was caused by
breaking air bubbles carried under the stream with
the sands. All this day such phenomena continued,
sliding sand-banks and tumbling jungles. In these
latter places some cattle had suffered. Their trails
ran parallel with the stream. No doubt they had one or
two places where they drank cut down to the stream.
Knowing nothing of the cutting underneath, they had
been precipitated into the flood, and now their carcasses
were food for swarms of vultures gathered for an unholy
feast.

What powerful, graceful birds these scavengers are,

FOUR DAYS TO YUMA 297

stronger than the eagle even, tireless and seemingly
motionless as they drift along searching every nook and
cranny for their provender ! But aside from a grudgingly
given tribute of admiration for their power, one has
about as much respect for them as for the equally graceful
rattlesnake, that other product of nature which flourishes
in this desert land.

The bird life along this lower part of the river was
wonderful in its variety. The birds of the desert mingled
with those of the fertile lands. The song-birds vied with
those of gorgeous plume. Water-birds disported them-
selves in the mud-banks and sloughs. The smaller birds
seemed to pay little attention to the nearness of the
hawks. Kingfisher perched on limbs overhanging the
quiet pools, ready to drop at the faintest movement on
the opaque water ; the road-runner chased the festive
lizard on the desert land back of the willows. Here
also in the mesquite and giant cactus were thrush and
Western meadow-larks and mocking-birds mimicking the
call of the cat-bird. Down in the brush by the river was
the happy little water-ousel, as cheerful in his way as
the dumpy-built musical canyon wren. The Mexican
crossbill appeared to have little fear of the migrating
Northern shrike. There were warblers, cardinals, tan-
agers, waxwings, song-sparrows, and chickadees. Flitting
droves of bush-tit dropped on to slender weeds, scarcely
bending them, so light were they. Then in a minute

298 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

they were gone. In the swamps or marshes were count-
less red-winged blackbirds.

The most unobservant person could not help but see
birds here. I had expected to find water-fowl, for the
Colorado delta is their breeding place ; but I little ex-
pected to find so many land birds in the trees along the
river. Instead of having a lonesome trip, every minute
was filled with something new, interesting, and beautiful,
and I was having the time of my life.

I camped that night at Picachio, — meaning the
Pocket, — eighty miles below Ahrenburg. This is still
a mining district, but the pockets containing nuggets
of gold which gave the place its name seem to have all
been discovered at the time of the boom ; the mining now
done is in quartz ledges up on the sides of grim, mineral-
stained hills. I was back in the land of rock again, a
land showing the forces of nature in high points of foreign
rock, shot up from beneath, penetrating the crust of the
earth and in a few places emerging for a height of two
hundred feet from the river itself, forming barren islands
and great circling whirlpools, as large as that in the
Niagara gorge, and I thought, for a while, almost as
powerful. In one I attempted to keep to the short side
of the river, but found it a difficult job, and one which
took three times as long to accomplish as if I had allowed
myself to be carried around the circle.

Then the land became level again, and the Chocolate

FOUR DAYS TO YUMA 299

Mountains were seen to the west. A hard wind blew
across the stream, so that I had to drop my sunshade to
prevent being carried against the rocks. This day I
passed a large irrigation canal leading off from the stream,
the second such on the entire course of the Colorado.
Here a friendly ranchman called to me from the shore
and warned me of the Laguna dam some distance below.
He said the water was backed up for three miles, so I
would know when I was approaching it.

In spite of this warning, I nearly came to grief at
the dam. The wind had shifted until it blew directly
down the stream. The river, nearly a mile wide, still
ran with a powerful current ; I ceased rowing and drifted
down, over waves much like those one would find on a
lake driven by a heavy wind. I saw some high poles
and a heavy electric cable stretched across the stream,
and concluded that this was the beginning of the dam.
I began to look ahead for some sign of a barrier across
the stream, far below, but I could see nothing of the
kind ; then as I neared the poles it suddenly dawned on
me that there was no raised barrier which diverted all
the water through a sluice, but a submerged dam, over
which the flood poured, and that the poles were on that
dam.

My sail-like sunshade was dropped as quickly as
I could do it, and, grabbing the oars, I began to pull for the
California shore.

300 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

It was fortunate for me that I happened to be com-
paratively near the shore when I began rowing. As it
was, I landed below the diverting canal, and about a
hundred yards above the dam. On examination the
dam proved to be a slope about fifty feet long. A man
in charge of the machinery controlling the gates told
me that the dam lacked seven feet of being a mile wide,
and that approximately seven feet of water was going
over the entire dam.

Great cement blocks and rocks had been dropped
promiscuously below the dam to prevent it from being
undermined. Even without the rocks it was doubtful
if an uncovered boat could go through without upsetting.
The great force of the water made a trough four or five
feet lower than the river level, all water coming down
the slope shooting underneath, while the river rolled
back upstream. On two occasions boatmen had been
carried over the dam. In each case the boat was
wrecked, but the occupants were thrown out and escaped
uninjured. I could not help but be amused, and feel a
little uncomfortable too, when I saw how nearly I came
to being wrecked here, after having escaped that fate in
the rapids of the canyons.

I ran my boat back to the diverting canal, then rowed
down to the massive cement gates, which looked to me
like a small replica of some of the locks on the Panama
Canal. With the help of an Indian who was ready for

FOUR DAYS TO YUMA 301

a job my boat was taken out, rolled around the buildings
on some sections of pipe, and slid over the bank into the
canal below the gates.

In spite of a desire to spend some time inspecting the
machinery of this great work, — which, with the canal
and other improvements, had cost the government over a
million dollars — I immediately resumed my rowing.
It was mid-afternoon, and measured by the canal, which
was direct, it was twelve miles to Yuma. But I soon
learned that great winding curves made it much farther
by the river. In some cases it nearly doubled back on
itself. The wind had shifted by this time and blew against
me so hard that it was almost useless to attempt rowing.
In another place there were no banks, and the water had
spread for three miles in broken sloughs and around
half-submerged islands, the one deep channel being
lost in the maze of shallow ones. With these things to
contend with it was dusk long before I neared the town,
the twelve miles having stretched to twenty. Finally I
saw a windmill partly submerged. Some distance away
was a small ranch house also in the water. The house,
with lights in the upper story, was a cheering sight ; the
windmill looked out of place in the midst of all this desola-
tion of water. Soon other houses appeared with lights
showing through the windows. Once I lost my way and
spent a half hour in getting back to the right channel.

Somewhere in the dark, I never knew just when, I

302 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

passed the mouth of the Gila River. In a similar way, in
broad daylight I had passed the Bill Williams Fork
above Ahrenburg.

At last I neared the town. I could discern some build-
ings on top of a small hill, evidently one of the back streets
of Yuma. After tying my boat, I hid my small load
in some mesquite trees, then climbed the hill and passed
between two peculiar stone houses dark as dungeons.
They puzzled me from the outside, but when once past
them, I was no longer in doubt. I had entered the open
gateway leading to the courtyard of the Yuma peniten-
tiary. No wonder the buildings looked like dungeons.
This was a new experience for me, but somehow I had
always imagined just how it would look. I was consid-
ering beating a retreat when a guard hailed me and asked
me if I was not lost. With the assistance of the guard, I
escaped from the pen and found my way to the streets of
Yuma, just four days after leaving the Needles bridge.

CHAPTER XXVI

ACROSS THE MEXICO BORDER

"MEXICO is a good place to keep away from just at
present." This was the invariable answer to a few casual
inquiries concerning what I would be likely to meet with
in the way of difficulties, a possible companion for the
voyage to the Gulf, and how one could get back when
once there. I received little encouragement from the
people of Yuma. The cautions came not from the timid
who see danger in every rumour, but from the old steam-
boat captains, the miners, and prospectors who knew the
country and had interests in mineral claims across the
border. These claims they had lost in many cases
because they had failed for the last two years to keep
up their assessment work. There were vague suggestions
of being stood up against an adobe wall with a row of
"yaller bellies" in front, or being thrown into damp dun-
geons and held for a ransom.

The steamboat men could give me little information
about the river. The old channel had filled with silt,
and the river was diverted into a roundabout course

303

304 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

little more than a creek in width, then spread over the
whole delta. The widely spread water finally collected
into an ancient course of the Colorado, known as the
Hardy or False Colorado. As nearly as I could learn
no one from Yuma had been through this new channel
beyond a certain point called Volcanic Lake. Two
or three parties had come back writh stories of having
attempted it, but found themselves in the middle of
a cane-brake with insufficient water to float a boat. With
a desire to be of real assistance to me, one old captain
called a Yuma Indian into his office and asked him his
opinion, suggesting that he might go along.

"Mebbe so get lost in the trees, mebbe so get shot
by the Cocopah," the Indian replied as he shook his head.

The captain laughed at the last and said that the
Yuma and Cocopah Indians were not the best of friends,
and accused each other of all sorts of things which neither
had committed. Some Mexicans and certain outlawed
whites who kept close to the border for different reasons,
and the possibilities of bogging in a cane-brake were the
only uncertainties. In so many words he advised me
against going.

Still I persevered. I had planned so long on completing
my boating trip to the Gulf, that I disliked to abandon the
idea altogether. I felt sure, with a flood on the Colorado,
there would be some channel that a flat-bottomed boat
could go through, when travelling with the current ;

ACROSS THE MEXICO BORDER 305

but the return trip and the chances of being made a
target for some hidden native who had lived on this
unfriendly border and had as much reason for respecting
some citizens of the United States as our own Indians
had in the frontier days, caused me considerable con-
cern. I knew it was customary everywhere to make
much of the imaginary dangers, as we had found in our
other journeys ; but it is not difficult to discriminate
between sound advice and the croakings which are based
on lack of real information. I knew this was sound
advice, and as usual I disliked to follow it. At last I
got some encouragement. It came from a retired Wild
West showman, — the real thing, one who knew the West
from its early days. He laughed at the idea of danger
and said I was not likely to find any one, even if I was
anxious to do so, until I got to the La Bolso Ranch near the
Gulf. They would be glad to see me. He thought it
was likely to prove uninteresting unless I intended to
hunt wild hogs, but that was useless without dogs, and
I would have trouble getting a gun past the custom
officers. His advice was to talk with the Mexican consul,
as he might know some one who could bring me back by
horseback.

In the consul I found a young Spaniard, all affability,
bows, and gestures ; and without being conscious of it at
first I too began making motions. He deplored my lack
of knowledge of the Spanish language, laughed at any

306 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

suggestion of trouble, as all trouble was in Eastern Sonora,
he said, separated from the coast by two hundred miles of
desert, and stated that the non-resident owner of the La
Bolsa cattle ranch happened to be in the building at
that moment. In a twinkling he had me before him and
explained the situation. This gentleman, the owner
of a 6oo,ooo-acre grant, and the fishing concession of the
Gulf, stated that the ranch drove a team to Yuma once
a week, that they would bring me back ; in the interval
I must consider myself the guest of the Rancho La
Bolsa. The consul gave me a passport, and so it was
all arranged.

In spite of the consul's opinion, there were many
whispered rumours of war, of silent automobiles loaded with
firearms that stole out of town under cover of the night
and returned in four days, and another of a river channel
that could be followed and was followed, the start being
made, not from Yuma, but from another border town
farther west. A year before there had been an outbreak
at this place of certain restless spirits, — some whites
included, — and they went along the northern line
of Mexico, sacking the ranches and terrorizing the people.
The La Bolsa ranch was among those that suffered. The
party contained some discharged vaqueros who were
anxious to interview the ranch foreman, but fortunately
for him he was absent. Then they turned south to Chi-
hauhau and joined the army of Madero. War, to them,

ACROSS THE MEXICO BORDER 307

meant license to rob and kill. They were not insur-
rectos, but bandits, and this was the class that was most
feared.

Meanwhile I had not given up the idea of a possible
companion. Before coming to Yuma I had entertained
hopes of getting some one with a motor boat to take me
down and back, but there were no motor boats, I found.
The nearest approach to a power boat was an attempt
that was being made to install the engine from a wrecked
steam auto on a sort of flat-bottomed scow. I heard
of this boat three or four times, and in each case the in-
formation was accompanied by a smile and some vague
remarks about a "hybrid." I hunted up the owner, —
the proprietor of a shooting gallery, — a man who had
once had aspirations as a heavy-weight prize fighter, but
had met with discouragement. So he had turned his
activities to teaching the young idea how to shoot —
especially the "Mexican idea" and those other border
spirits who were itching for a scrap.

The proprietor of the shooting gallery drove a thriving
trade. Since he had abandoned his training he had
taken on fat, and I found him to be a genial sort of giant
who refused to concern himself with the serious side of
life. Even a lacing he had received in San Francisco
at the hands of a negro stevedore struck him as being
humorous. He did not seem to have much more con-
fidence in his "power boat" than the others, but

308 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

said I might talk with the man who was putting it to-
gether, ending with the remark "Phillipps thinks he
can make her run, and he has always talked of going
to the Gulf."

On investigation I found Al Phillipps was anxious to
go to the Gulf, and would go along if I would wait until
he got his boat in shape. This would take two days.
Phillipps, as he told me himself, was a Jayhawker who
had left the farm in Kansas and had gone to sea for two
years. He was a cowboy, but had worked a year or
two about mining engines. In Yuma he was a carpenter,
but was anxious to leave and go prospecting along the
Gulf. Phillipps and I were sure to have an interesting
time. He spoke Spanish and did not fear any of the
previously mentioned so-called dangers ; he had heard of
one party being carried out to sea when the tide rushed
out of the river, but as we would have low tide he thought
that, with caution, we could avoid that.

At last all was ready for the momentous trial. The
river bank was lined with a crowd of men who seemed to
have plenty of leisure. Some long-haired Yuma Indians,
and red and green turbaned Papagos, gathered in a group
off a little to one side. A number of darkies were fishing
for bullheads, and boys of three colors besides the Mexi-
cans and a lone Chinaman clambered over the trees
and the boats along the shore.

It was a moment of suspense for Phillipps. His

ACROSS THE MEXICO BORDER 309

reputation as an engineer and a constructor of boats
hung in the balance. He also had some original ideas
about a rudder which had been incorporated in this
boat. Now was his chance to test them out, and his
hour of triumph if they worked.

The test was a rigid one. The boat was to be turned
upstream against an eight-mile current with big sand-
waves, beginning about sixty feet from the shore, running
in the middle of the river. If the engine ran, and the
stern paddle-wheel turned, his reputation was saved.
If she was powerful enough to go against the current,
it was a triumph and we would start for the Gulf at
once.

On board were Phillipps, a volunteer, and myself.
Before turning the boat loose, the engine was tried.
It was a success. The paddle-wheel churned the water
at a great rate, sending the boat upstream as far as the
ropes would let her go. We would try a preliminary
run in the quiet water close to the shore, before making
the test in the swift current. The order was given to
cast off, and for two men, the owner and another, to hold to
the ropes and follow on the shore. The engine was
started, the paddle-wheel revolved, slowly at first but
gathering speed with each revolution. We began to
move gently, then faster, so that the men on shore had
difficulty in keeping even with us, impeded as they were
with bushes and sloping banks. Flushed with success,

310 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

the order was given to turn her loose, and we gathered
in the ropes. Now we were drifting away from the shore,
and making some headway against the swift current.
The crowd on shore was left behind.

But as we left the bank the river increased in speed,
and the boat gradually lost. Then she stood still, but
began to turn slowly, broadside to the current. This
was something we had not foreseen. With no headway,
the rudder was of no avail. There was no sweep-oar ;
we had even neglected to put an oar on the boat. With
pieces of boards the stranger and I paddled, trying to
hold her straight, but all the time, in spite of our efforts,
she drifted away from the land and slowly turned. A big
sand-wave struck her, she wheeled in her tracks and
raced straight for a pier, down the stream.

About this time our engineer began having trouble
with his engine. At first we feared it would not run, now
it seemed it would not stop.

A great shout went up from the shore, and a bet was
made that we would run to the Gulf in less than a day.
A darky boy fell off a boat in the excitement, the Indians
did a dance, men pounded each other and whooped for
joy. Then a bolt came loose, and the engine ran away.
Driving-rod and belts were whirled "regardless," as the
passenger afterwards said, about our heads.

Then the crash came. Our efforts to escape the pier
were of no avail. I made a puny effort to break the

ACROSS THE MEXICO BORDER 311

impact with a pole, but was sent sprawling on the deck.
Al tumbled headlong on top of the engine, which he had
stopped at last, our passenger rolled over and over,
but we all stayed with the ship. Each grabbing a
board, we began to paddle and steered the craft to the
shore.

With the excitement over, the crowd faded away.
Only two or three willing hands remained to help us line
the craft back to the landing. The owner, who had
to run around the end of the bridge, came down puffing
and blowing, badly winded, at the end of the first round.
Without a word from any one we brought the boat back
to the landing.

Al was the first to speak.

"Well, what are you going to do ?" he asked.

"Me ? I'm going to take my boat and start for the
Gulf in ten minutes. I'll take nothing that I cannot
carry. If I have to leave the river I will travel light
across the desert to Calexico. I think that I can
get through. If you want to go along, I'll stick
with you until we get back. What do you think
about it ?"

It was a long speech and a little bitter perhaps. I
felt that way. The disappointment on top of the three
days' delay when time was precious could not be forgotten
in a moment. And when my speech was said I was all
through.

312 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

Al said he would be ready in half an hour. Our beds
were left behind. Al had a four-yard square of canvas
for a sail. This would be sufficient covering at night
in the hot desert. We had two canteens. The provi-
sions, scarcely touched before arriving here, were suffi-
cient for five days. I was so anxious to get started that
I did not take the time to replenish them in Yuma, in-
tending to do so at the custom-house on the Arizona side,
twelve miles below, where some one had told me there was
a store. I counted on camping there. After a hurriedly
eaten luncheon we were ready to start, the boat was
shoved off, and we were embarked for Mexico.

Half an hour later we passed the abandoned Imperial
Canal, the man-made channel which had nearly destroyed
the vast agricultural lands which it had in turn created.
Just such a flood as that on which we were travelling had
torn out the insufficiently supported head-gates. The
entire stream, instead of pushing slowly across the delta,
weltering in its own silt to the Gulf, poured into the bot-
tom of the basin nearly four hundred feet below the top
of this silt-made dam. In a single night it cut an eighty-
foot channel in the unyielding soil, and what had once
been the northern end of the California Gulf was turned
into an inland sea, filled with the turbid waters of the
Colorado, instead of the sparkling waters of the ocean.
Nothing but an almost superhuman fight finally rescued
the land from the grip of the water.

ACROSS THE MEXICO BORDER 313

A short distance below, just across the Mexican line,
on the California side, was the new canal, dug in a firmer
soil and with strongly built gates anchored in rock back
from the river.

Half a mile away from the stream, on a spur railway,
was the Mexican custom-house. I had imagined that
it would be beside the river, and that guards would be
seen patrolling the shore. But aside from an Indian
fishing, there was no one to be seen. We walked out
to the custom-house, gave a list of the few things which
we had, assured them that we carried no guns, paid our
duty, and departed. We had imagined that our boat
would be inspected, but no one came near.

The border line makes a jog here at the river and
the Arizona-Mexico line was still a few miles down the
stream. We had passed the mouth of the old silt-dammed
Colorado channel, which flowed a little west of south ;
and we turned instead to the west into the spreading
delta or moraine. About this time I remarked that I
had seen no store at the custom-house and that I must
not neglect to get provisions at the next one or we would
be rather short.

"We passed our last custom-house back there."
Al replied, "That's likely the last place we will see until
we get to the ranch by the Gulf."

No custom-house ! No store ! This was a surprise.
What was a border for if not to have custom-houses and

314 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

inspectors ? With all the talk of smuggling I had not
thought of anything else. And I could tell by Al's tone
that his estimation of my foresight had dropped several
degrees. This was only natural, for his disappointment
and the jibes still rankled.

At last we were wholly in Mexican territory. With
the States behind, all of our swiftly running water had
departed, and we now travelled on a stream that was
nearly stagnant. All the cottonwood logs which had
finally been carried down the stream after having been
deposited on a hundred shores, found here their final rest-
ing place. About each cluster of logs an island was
forming, covered with a rank grass and tules.

Ramified channels wound here and there. Two or
three times we found ourselves in a shallow channel,
and with some difficulty retraced our way. All channels
looked alike, but only one was deep.

Then the willow trees which were far distant on either
shore began to close in and we travelled in a channel not
more than a hundred feet wide, growing smaller with
every mile. This new channel is sometimes termed the
Bee River. It parallels the northern Mexico line; it
also parallels a twenty-five mile levee which the United
States government has constructed along the northern
edge of this fifty-mile wide dam shoved across the Cali-
fornia Gulf by the stream, building higher every year.
Except for the river channel the dam may be said to

• ACROSS THE MEXICO BORDER 315

reach unbroken from the Arizona-Sonora Mesa to the
Cocopah Mountains. The levee runs from a point of
rocks near the river to Lone Mountain, a solitary peak
some distance east of the main range. This levee, built
since the trouble with the canal, is all that prevents the
water from breaking into the basin in a dozen places.

We saw signs of two or three camp-fires close to the
stream, and with the memory of the stories haunting us a
little we built only a small fire when we cooked our even-
ing meal, then extinguished it, and camped on a dry
point of land a mile or two below. I think we were both
a little nervous that night ; I confess that I was, and if an
unwashed black-bearded individual had poked his head
out from the willows and said, "Woof!" or whatever
it is that they say when they want to start up a jack-
rabbit, we would both have stampeded clear across the
border. In fact I felt a little as I did when I played
truant from school and wondered what would happen
when I was found out.

Daybreak found us ready to resume our journey,
and with a rising sun any nervousness vanished. What
could any one want with two men who had nothing but
a flat-bottomed boat ?

All the morning we travelled west, the trees ever
drawing closer as our water departed on the south, run-
ning through the willows, arrow-weed, and cat-tails.
Then the channel opened into Volcanic Lake, a circular

316 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

body of water, which is not a lake but simply a gathering
together of the streams we had been losing, and here the
water stands, depositing its mud. All the way across
it had no depth but a bottomless mud, so soft it would
engulf a person if he tried to wade across.

On the west there was no growth. The shore was
nothing but an ash-like powder, not a sand, but a rich
soil blown here and there, building in dunes against
every obstruction, ever moving before the wind. Here
were boiling, sputtering mud pots and steam vents build-
ing up and exhausting through mud pipe-stems, rising a
foot or two above the springs. Here was a shelter or
two of sun-warped boards constructed by those who
come here crippled with rheumatism and are supposed
to depart, cured. Here we saw signs of a wagon track
driven toward Calexico, the border town directly north
of the lake. The heat was scorching, the sun, reflected
from the sand and water, was blistering, and we could
well imagine what a walk across that ash-like soil would
mean. Mirages in the distance beckoned, trees and
lakes were seen over toward the mountains where we
had seen nothing but desert before ; heat waves rose and
fell. Our mouths began to puff from the reflected sun,
our faces burned and peeled, black and red in spots. There
was no indication of the slightest breeze until about three
o'clock, when the wind moved gently across the lake.

We had skirted the northern part of the circle, pass-

ACROSS THE MEXICO BORDER 317

ing a few small streams and then found one of the three
large channels which empty the lake. As it happened
we took the one on the outside, and the longest. The
growth grew thicker than ever, the stream choked down
to fifty feet. Now it began to loop backward and for-
ward and back again, as though trying to make the long-
est and crookedest channel possible in the smallest space.
The water in the channel was stagnant, swift streamlets
rushed in from the tules on the north, and rushed out
again on the south. It was not always a simple matter
to ascertain which was the main channel. Others just
as large were diverted from the stream. Twice we
attempted to cut across, but the water became shallow,
the tules stalled our boats, and we were glad to return,
sounding with a pole when in doubt.

Then we began to realize that we were not entirely
alone in this wilderness of water. We saw evidence of
another's passage, in broken cat-tails and blazed trees.
In many places he had pushed into the thickets. We
concluded it must be a trapper. At last, to our surprise,
we saw a telephone equipment, sheltered in a box nailed
on a water-surrounded tree. The line ran directly
across the stream. Here also we could see where a boat
had forced a way through, and the water plants had been
cut with a sharp instrument. What could it be ? We
were certain no line ran to the only ranch at the Gulf.
We had information of another ranch directly on the bor-

318 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

der line, but did not think it came below the levee, and
as far as we had learned, there were no homes but the
wickiups of the Cocopah in the jungles. It was like one
of those thrilling stories of Old Sleuth and Dead Shot
Dick which we read, concealed in our schoolbooks, when
we were supposed to be studying the physical geography
of Mexico. But the telephone was no fiction, and had
recently been repaired, but for what purpose it was there
we could not imagine. After leaving the lake there was
no dry land. At night our boat, filled with green tules
for a bed, was tied to a willow tree, with its roots sub-
merged intenfeetof water. Neverwere there such swarms
of mosquitos. In the morning our faces were corrugated
with lumps, not a single exposed spot remaining unbitten.

The loops continued with the next day's travel, but
we were gradually working to the southwest, then they
began to straighten out somewhat, as the diverted streams
returned. We thought early in the morning that we
would pass about ten miles to the east of the coast range,
but it was not to be. Directly to the base of the dark,
heat-vibrating rocks we pulled, and landed on the first
shore that we had seen for twenty-four hours.

Here was a recently used trail, and tracks where
horses came down to the water. Here too was the
track of a barefooted Cocopah, a tribe noted for its men
of gigantic build, and with great feet out of all propor-
tion to their size. If that footprint was to be fossilized,

ZOROASTER TEMPLE: FROM THE END OF

ACROSS THE MEXICO BORDER 319

future generations would marvel at the evidence of some
gigantic prehistoric animal, an alligator with a human-
shaped foot. These Indians have lived in these mud
bottoms so long, crossing the streams on rafts made of
bundles of tules, and only going to the higher land when
their homes are inundated by the floods, that they have
become a near approach to a web-footed human being.

Our stream merely touched the mountain, then turned
directly to the southeast in a gradually increasing stream.
Now we began to see the breeding places of the water-
birds of which we had heard. There was a confusion
of bird calls, sand-hill cranes were everywhere ; in some
cases with five stick-built nests in a single water-killed
tree. A blue heron flopped around as though it had
broken a wing, to decoy us from its nest. The snowy
white pelican waddled along the banks and mingled with
the cormorants. There were great numbers of gulls,
and occasional snipe. We were too late to see the ducks
which come here, literally by the million, during the win-
ter months. There were hawks' nests in the same groups
of trees as the cranes, with the young hawks stretching
their necks for the food which was to be had in such abun-
dance. And on another tree sat the parent hawks, com-
placently looking over the nests of the other birds, like
a coyote waiting for a horse to die. At Cocopah Moun-
tain a golden eagle soared, coming down close to the
ground as we rested under the mesquite. Then as we

320 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

travelled clear streams of water began to pour in from
the north and east, those same streams we had lost above,
but cleared entirely of their silt. Now the willows grew
scarce, and instead of mud banks a dry, firm earth was
built up from the river's edge, and the stream increased
in size. Soon it was six or seven hundred feet wide and
running with a fair current. This was the Hardy River.
We noticed signs of falling water on the banks as though
the stream had dropped an inch or two. In a half-hour
the mark indicated a fall of eight inches or more ; then we
realized we were going out with the tide. A taste of
water proved it. The river water was well mixed with a
weak saline solution. We filled our canteens at once.

We saw a small building and a flagpole on the south
shore, but on nearing the place found it was deserted.
A few miles below were two other channels equally as
large as that on which we travelled, evidently fed by
streams similar to our own. There were numerous scat-
tered trees, some of them cottonwood, and we saw some
grazing cattle. We began to look for the ranch house,
which some one had said was at the point where the Colo-
rado and the Hardy joined, and which others told us was
at the Gulf.

CHAPTER XXVIL

THE GULF OF CALIFORNIA

THAT the head of the Gulf of California has a big
tide is well known. Choked in a narrowing cone, the
waters rise higher and higher as they come to the apex,
reaching twenty-five feet or over in a high tide. This
causes a tidal bore to roll up the Colorado, and from all
reports it was something to be avoided. The earliest
Spanish explorers told some wonderful tales of being
caught in this bore and of nearly losing their little sailing
vessels.

This was my first experience with river tides. It
was somewhat of a disappointment to me that I could
not arrange to be here at a high tide, for we had come at
the first quarter of the moon. Out on the open sea one
can usually make some headway by rowing against the
ebb or flow of the tide : here on the Colorado, where
it flowed upstream at a rate of from five to eight miles
an hour, it was different. When we reached the head of
the tide, it was going out. Unfortunately for us the day
was gone when the current began to run strong. It

Y 321

322 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

hardly seemed advisable to travel with it after dark. We
might pass the ranch, or be carried against a rock-bound
coast, or find difficulty in landing and be overwhelmed
by the tidal bore. So when darkness fell we camped,
pulling our boat out in a little slough to prevent it from
being carried away. Evidently we were too near the
headwaters for a tidal bore, for at eleven P.M. the waters
turned and came back as quietly as they ran out.

We launched our boat before the break of day, and
for four hours we travelled on a good current. The chan-
nel now had widened to a half-mile, with straight earthy
banks, about fifteen feet high. Still there was no sign
of a ranch, and it began to look to us as if there was little
likelihood of finding any.

The land was nearly level and except for a few raised
hummocks on which grew some scattered trees, it was
quite bare. This was not only because it did not get
the life-giving water from the north, but because at times
it was submerged under the saline waters from the south.
Near the shores of the river, and extending back for
fifty feet, was a matted, rank growth of grass ; beyond
that the earth was bare, baked and cracked by the
burning sun. This grass, we found, was a favorite resort
of rattlesnakes. We killed two of them, a large one and
a vicious little flat-headed sidewinder.

All this land was the south rim of the silt dam, which
extended from the line of cliffs or mesa on the east to

THE GULF OF CALIFORNIA 323

the mountains on the west. The other rim, a hundred
feet higher, lay at least fifty miles to the north. Here
was the resting-place of a small portion of the sediment
carved away by the Colorado's floods. How deep it is
piled and how far it extends out under the waters of the
Gulf would be hard to say.

We felt sure that we would get to the Gulf with this
tide, but when the time came for it to turn we were still
many miles away. There was nothing to do but to camp
out on this sun-baked plain. We stopped a little after
9.30 A.M. Now that we were nearing the Gulf we were
sure there would be a tidal bore. As we breakfasted a
slight rushing sound was heard, and what appeared to be
a ripple of broken water or small breaker came up the
stream and passed on. This was a disappointment.
With high water on the river and with a low tide this was
all the tidal bore we would see.

In four hours the water rose fourteen feet, then for
two hours the rise was slower. Within three feet of the
level it came. The opposite side, rounded at the edges,
looked like a thread on top of the water, tapered to a
single silken strand and looking toward the Gulf, merged
into the water. To all appearances it was a placid lake
spread from mountain to mesa.

Our smaller canteen was still filled with the fresh
water secured the evening before. The other had been
emptied and was filled again before the return of the tide,

324 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

but considerable taste of the salt remained. What we
did now must be done with caution. So far we had not
seen the ranch. We were in doubt whether it was some-
where out on the coast or back on one of the sloughs
passed the evening before. We had heard of large
sail-boats being hauled from Yuma and launched by the
ranch. This would seem to indicate that it was some-
where on the Gulf. We had provisions sufficient for
one day, one canteen of fresh water, and another so mixed
with the salt water that we would not use it except as a
last resort.

A little after 3.30 P.M. the tide changed; we launched
our boat and went out with the flood. As we neared
the mouth of the stream we found that the inrush and
outrush of water had torn the banks. Here the river
spread in a circular pool several miles across. It seemed
almost as if the waters ran clear to the line of yellow cliffs
and to the hazy mountain range. Then the shores closed
in again just before the current divided quite evenly on
either side of a section of the barren plain named Mon-
tague Island. We took the channel to the east.

Our last hope of finding the ranch was in a dried-out
river channel, overgrown with trees. But although we
looked carefully as we passed, there was no sign of a
trail or of human life. Some egrets preened their silken
feathers on the bank ; sand-hill cranes and two coyotes,
fat as hogs and dragging tails weighted with mud,

THE GULF OF CALIFORNIA 325

feasted on the lively hermit-crabs, which they extracted
from their holes — and that was all.

The sun, just above the lilac-tinted mountains, hung
like a great suspended ball of fire. The cloudless sky
glared like a furnace. Deep purple shadows crept into
the canyons slashing the mountain range. The yellow
dust-waves and the mirages disappeared with the going
down of the sun. Still we were carried on and on. We
would go down with the tide. Now the end of the island
lay opposite the line of cliffs ; soon we would be in the
Gulf.

So ended the Colorado. Two thousand miles above,
it was a beautiful river, born of a hundred snow-capped
peaks and a thousand crystal streams ; gathering strength,
it became the masterful river which had carved the hearts
of mountains and slashed the rocky plateaus, draining
a kingdom and giving but little in return. Now it was
going under, but it was fighting to the end. Waves of
yellow struggled up through waves of green and were
beaten down again. The dorsal fins of a half-dozen sharks
cut circles near our craft. With the last afterglow we
were past the end of the island and were nearing the
brooding cliffs. Still the current ran strong. The last
vestige of day was swallowed in the gloom, just as the
Colorado was buried 'neath the blue. A hard wind was
blowing, toward the shore ; the sea was choppy. A point
of rocks where the cliffs met the sea was. our , goal. Would

326 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

we never reach it ? Even in the night, which was now
upon us, the distance was deceptive. At last we neared
the pile of rocks. The sound of waters pounding on the
shore was heard, and we hurriedly landed, a half-mile
above it, just as the tide turned.

The beach was a half-mile wide, covered with mud
and sloughs. There was no high shore. But an examina-
tion showed that the tide ran back to the cliffs. One of
us had to stay with the boat. Telling Phillipps to get
what sleep he could, I sat in the boat, and allowed the
small breakers which fox-chased each other to beat it
in as the tide rose.

An arctic explorer has said that having an adventure
means that something unexpected or unforeseen has
happened ; that some one has been incompetent. I had
the satisfaction of knowing that the fault of this adven-
ture, if such it could be called, was mine. Here we were,
at our goal in Mexico, supposed to be a hostile land, with
scant provisions for one day. It was a hundred miles
along the line of cliffs, back to Yuma. So far, we had
failed to find the ranch. It was not likely that it was
around the point of rocks. We knew now that the Colo-
rado channel was fifteen miles from the mouth of the
river, and was not a slough as we had supposed. Doubt-
less the ranch was up there. Our best plan was to return
to the head of the tide, going up the Colorado, then if
we did not find the ranch we would abandon the boat,

THE GULF OF CALIFORNIA 327

snare some birds, keep out of the scorching heat, and
travel in the morning and evening. Two active men
should be able to do that without difficulty.

So the hours passed, with the breakers driving the
boat toward the line of cliffs. When it had reached its
highest point, I pulled into a slough and tied up, then
woke Al as we had agreed. While I slept, he climbed
the cliffs to have a last look. An hour after daybreak
he returned. Nothing but rock and desert could be
seen. We dragged the boat down in the slime of the
slough until we caught the falling tied. Then Al rigged
up his sail. With the rising sun a light breeze blew in
from the Gulf. Here was our opportunity. Slowly we
went up against the falling tide. Then as the breeze failed,
the tide returned. Fifty feet away a six foot black sea
bass floated ; his rounded back lifted above the water.
With the approach of the boat he was gone. The sharks
were seen again.

Two hours later we had entered the mouth of the river
carried by the rising tide. Several miles were left behind.
Another breeze came up as the tide failed, and the sail
was rigged up again. Things were coming our way at last.
Al knew how to handle a boat. Running her in close to
the top of the straight falling banks I could leap to the
land, take a picture, then run and overtake the boat, and
leap on again.

Then the wind shifted, the tide turned, and we tied

328 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

up, directly opposite the point where we had camped the
afternoon before. It was the hottest day we had seen.
Whirlwinds, gathering the dust in slender funnels, scur-
ried across the plains. Mirages of trees bordering shim-
mering lakes and spreading water such as we had come
through below Yuma were to be seen, even out towards
the sea. Then over toward the cliffs where the old
Colorado once ran we saw a column of distant smoke.
Perhaps it was a hunter; it could hardly be the ranch.
As we could do nothing with the boat, we concluded to
walk over that way. It was many miles distant. Taking
everything we had, including our last lunch, we started
our walk, leaving a cloth on a pole to mark the point
where our boat was anchored. But after going four
miles it still seemed no nearer than before, so we returned.
It was evening. The water was drinkable again ; that
was something to be thankful for. By ten o'clock that
night the tide would come up again. After dark we found
that our boat was being beached. So we ran it down and
began pulling it along over a shoal reaching far out from
the shore. As we tugged I was sure I heard a call some-
where up the river. What kind of a land was this !
Could it be that my senses were all deceiving me as my
eyes were fooled by the mirage ? I had heard it, Al had
not, and laughed when I said that I had. We listened
and heard it again, plainly this time, "Can't you men find
a landing ? We have a good one up here," it said.

THE GULF OF CALIFORNIA 329

We asked them to row down, advising them to keep
clear of the shoal. We waded out, guided by their voices,
in the pitch darkness and neared the boat.

One shadowy form sat in either end of a flat-bottomed
boat. There was a mast, and the boat was fitted for
two oarsmen as well. Evidently the load was heavy, for
it was well down in the water. The sail cloth was spread
over all the boat, excepting one end where there was a
small sheet-iron stove, with a pan of glowing wood coal
underneath. The aroma of coffee came from a pot on
the stove. As I steadied myself at the bow I touched a
crumpled flag, — Mexican, I thought, — but I could not
see. Both figures sat facing us, with rifles in their hands,
alert and ready for a surprise. Smugglers ! I thought ;
guns, I imagined. They could not see our faces in
the dark, neither could we distinguish theirs. Judging
by their voices they were young men. I thought from
the first that they were Mexicans, but they talked without
accent. They could see that we carried no arms, but
their vigilance was not relaxed. They asked what our
trouble was and we told them of the beached boat, what
we had been doing, and why we were there. They said
they were out for a little sight-seeing trip down in the
Gulf. They might go to Tiburone Island. One of them
wondered if it was true that the natives were cannibals.
He said he would not care about being shot, but he would
hate to be put in their stew-pot. We asked them how

330 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

much water they carried. A fifteen-gallon keg was all.
They hoped to get more along the coast. It is quite
well known there is none. They professed to be unin-
formed about the country, did not know there was a
ranch or a tidal bore, and thanked us for our information
about the tides, and the advice to fill their keg when the
water was lowest, which would be in half an hour. They
could not sell any provisions, but gave us a quart of flour.

As we talked an undermined bank toppled over,
sounding like shots from a gun. One cocked his rifle on
the impulse, then laughed when he realized what it was.
Just before we parted one of them remarked, "You came
through the Bee River four days ago, near a telephone,
didn't you ?" "Yes, but we didn't see any one," I
replied.

"No ? But we saw you !" And we felt the smiles
we could not see.

They said the large ranch had some Chinamen clear-
ing the highest ground, and building levees around it to
keep the water out. The telephone and a motor boat
connected the different ranches. Their advice to us was
to keep to the river, not to look for the ranch, but to
get on the telephone and raise a racket until some one
showed up.

Then we parted to go to our respective landings, with
mutual wishes for a successful journey. The boat was
pulled down. The tide was on the point of turning, but

TEN MILES FROM THE GULF OF CALIFORNIA. COMING UP ON A TWENTY-FOOT

TIDE.

SUNSET ON THE LOWER COLORADO RIVER.

THE GULF OF CALIFORNIA 331

it would be an hour before there would be any strength
to it. I went to shore and built a fire of some driftwood,
for the long stand in the water had chilled me. Al
stayed with the boat. Earlier in the day, I cautiously
shook the sticks loose from the matted grass, fearing the
rattlers which were everywhere. In this case nothing
buzzed. But I had no sooner got my fire well started
when a rattler began to sing, roused by the light and the
heat, about twenty feet away. My fire was built beside
one of the many sloughs which cut back through the
grass and ended in the barren soil. These sloughs were
filled with water when the tide was in and made ideal
landing places, especially if one had to avoid a big tidal
bore. Getting on the opposite side of the fire, I tossed
a stick occasionally to keep him roused. Soon another
joined, and between them they made the air hum. By
this time I was thoroughly warmed and felt that the boat
would be the best place for me. Carefully extinguishing
my fire, I went down to the river just as the tide returned.
Without any sign or call from the shore we were carried
up with the tide. We were both weary but I dared not
sleep, so I merely kept the boat away from the shores
and drifted, while Phillipps slept. I had picked out a
guiding star which I little needed while the current was
running strong, but which would give us our course when
the tide changed, for we could be carried out just as
easily.

332 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO

But an hour after we left our camp another light
appeared, growing larger and larger. It was one of
two things. Either my fire was not extinguished, or a
match thrown down by one of the others had fired the
deep dry grass. I consoled myself that it could not
spread, for the sloughs and the barren soil would cut it
off. I had a grim satisfaction when I thought of the
snakes and how they would run for the desert land. This
was a real guiding star, growing larger and larger as we
were carried up the stream. I slept on shore when the
tide would take us no farther. Phillipps got breakfast.
We were now about three miles from the slough. After
breakfast we alternately towed the boat, for there was
no wind to carry us up this morning, and two hours later
arrived at the diverging streams. Near by we saw some
mules showing evidence of having been worked. It was
clear now that the ranch was near. There was still a
chance that we would take the wrong stream. Over on
the opposite side was a tall cottonwood tree. This I
climbed, and had the satisfaction of seeing some kind of a
shed half a mile up the east stream. The land between
proved to be a large island. As we neared the building
two swarthy men emerged and came down to the shore.
"Buenas dias," Al called as we pulled in to the landing.

"Buenas dias, Senor," they answered with a smile.

They were employees of the Rancho La Bolso, which
was a half-mile up the stream.

THE GULF OF CALIFORNIA 333

Did we make the big fire which had burned until
morning ?

Our answer seemed to relieve their minds.

What would we do with our boat ? It was theirs to
do with as they pleased. Leading two horses from out
of the building, they mounted and told us to climb on
behind, and away we rode across some water-filled sloughs.
Hidden in the trees we came to the buildings — three or
four flat-topped adobe houses. Some little brown chil-
dren scattered to announce our coming.

As we dismounted two white men approached.
"Why, hello, Phillipps !" the ranch boss said when he
saw my companion. "This is a long walk from Yuma.
You fellows are just in time to grub !"

THE END

APPENDIX

THE parties who have made extended voyages through
one or more of the canyons of the Green and Colorado
rivers, and the order of their leaving, according to
Dellenbaugh, are as follows :

Major J. W. Powell left Green River, Wyoming,
May 24, 1869; arrived at the Virgin River with five of
his party, six in all, Aug. 30, 1869 — was met there by
some Mormons who had been ordered to be on the look-
out by Brigham Young. The party were distributed as
follows :

The boats : i. Emma Dean. J. W. Powell, John C. Sum-
ner, Wm. H. Dunn.

2. Kitty Clyde's Sister. Walter Powell, G. Y.

Bradley.

3. No Name. O. G. Rowland, Seneca How-

land, Frank Goodman.

4. Maid of the Canyon. Wm. R. Hawkins,

Andrew Hall.

Notes. F. Goodman left the party at the Mouth of
the Uinta. The No Name was wrecked in Lodore
Canyon. O. G. Howland, Seneca Howland, and Wm.

33S

336 APPENDIX

H. Dunn left the party when about twenty-five miles
from the mouth of the Grand Canyon, and were killed
by the Shewits Utes near Mt. Dellenbaugh. Sumner
and Hall went on down to the Gulf of California.

The second Powell expedition left Green River,
Wyoming, May 22, 1871, taking advantage of the high
water, which is desirable on the Green River. They
arrived at the Mouth of the Paria, Oct. 22, 1871. Start-
ing again from the Paria (Lee's Ferry) Aug. 17, 1872,
they passed through Marble Canyon and nearly 100 miles
of the Grand Canyon, reaching the mouth of Kanab Can-
yon Saturday, Sept. 7, 1872. Here the voyage was discon-
tinued on account of high water, rising higher each day.
The crews of this party were distributed as follows :

1871. I. Emma Dean. J. W. Powell, S. V. Jones, F. S.
Dellenbaugh, J. K. Hilliers.

2. Nellie Powell. A. H. Thompson, John F. Stew-

ard, F. M. Bishop, F. C. A. Richard-
son.

3. Canonita. E. O. Beaman, W. Clement Powell,

Andrew C. Hatton.

Notes. Richardson left in Brown's Park; Beaman,
Steward, and Bishop at the end of the first season. The
boats had been badly pounded, the Nellie Powell very
much so, and she was left at Lee's Ferry. The party
proceeded as follows :

APPENDIX 337

1872. i. Emma Dean. J. W. Powell, S. V. Jones, F. S.

Dellenbaugh, J. K. Hilliers.

2. Canonita. A. H. Thompson, W. Clement
Powell, A. C. Hatton.

H. M. Hook with fifteen miners in crude boats left
Green River, Wyoming, June I, 1869. H. M. Hook and
one other were drowned in Red Canyon, and the expedi-
tion was abandoned.

Earlier parties to attempt descent: 1825 — Wm.
H. Ashley and party to Brown's Park. 1849 — Wm. L.
Manly and party to Uintah Valley. The name D.
Julian, Mai 1836, occurs carved in the walls in Labyrinth
Canyon, and again in Cataract Canyon. No further
record at present.

Bancroft Librae^
BROWN-STANTON

This expedition left Blake (Green River, Utah) May
25, 1889, 1 6 men with 6 boats (very light). The entire
party was Frank M. Brown, chief, Robert Brewster
Stanton, chief engineer, John Hislop, C. W. Potter,
T. P. Rigney, E. A. Reynolds, J. H. Hughes, W. H. Bush,

Edward Coe, Edward , Peter Hansborough,

Henry Richards, G. W. Gibson, Charles Porter, F. A.
Nims, T. C. Terry.

Notes. Brown, Hansborough, and Richards were
drowned in Marble Canyon. The expedition was tern-

338 APPENDIX

porarily abandoned in lower Marble Canyon. Hughes,
Terry, and Rigney left at Glen Canyon, Reynolds left at
Lee's Ferry, and Harry McDonald joined the party.

STANTON

Stanton re-outfitted with heavy boats, 22 feet long,
and began the second trip in Glen Canyon. This party
included R. B. Stanton, Langdon Gibson, Harry McDon-
ald, Elmer Kane, John Hislop, F. A. Nims, Reginald
Travers, W. H. Edwards, A. B. Twining, H. G. Ballard,
L. G. Brown, and James Hogue. They entered the head
of Marble Canyon Dec. 28, 1889, and finished at tide
water in the Gulf of California, Apr. 26, 1890. One
boat wrecked in the Grand Canyon. Purpose of trip,
survey for a railroad.

Notes. Nims had a fall in Marble Canyon, which
broke his leg. He was taken out over a lyoo-foot wall
and carried over the plateau to a point where he could
be hauled out by wagon. McDonald left the expedition
near the upper end of the Grand Canyon, Hogue and
one other left at Diamond Creek.

GALLOWAY

Nathan Galloway left Green River, Wyoming, in the
autumn of 1895 and went to Lee's Ferry. Late in 1896
N. Galloway and Wm. Richmond left Henry's Fork,
Wyoming, and reached Needles, Feb. 10, 1897. Gallo-

APPENDIX 339

way passed down as far as the Uintah Valley five times,
and through Desolation and Gray canyons seven times,
through Cataract three times, and the Grand Canyon,
once before making the trip with Julius F. Stone.
Galloway was a trapper.

FLAVELL

On Aug. 27, 1896, George F. Flavell and one com-
panion, name unknown, started from Green River,
Wyoming, and went to Yuma, Arizona, which was reached
Dec. 1896. They had one boat; flat-bottomed. Little
is known about this expedition. Prospector or trapper ?

RUSSELL-MONNETTE

Charles S. Russell, E. R. Monnette, and Bert Loper,
in three steel boats, left Blake (Green River), Utah, Sept.
20, 1907. Russell and Monnette reached Needles in Feb.
1908 with one boat. Purpose, prospecting.

Notes. Loper's boat was punctured in the lower end
of Cataract Canyon, and he held up to repair while the
others continued to prospect as far as Lee's Ferry. After
a long wait they proceeded with the trip. Loper arrived
shortly after, but discontinued the trip when he found
he was left behind. A second boat was lost in the Hance
Rapid. The third boat was torn away from them, while
lining it in the Hermit Creek Rapid. They climbed the
granite, and followed a trail which took them to the camp

340 APPENDIX

of L. Bouchre, a prospector. The boat was found the
next day with three holes in its side, in a whirlpool five
miles below the Hermit Creek Rapid. The boat was re-
paired and the voyage completed to Needles.

STONE

Julius F. Stone of Columbus, Ohio, accompanied by
Nathan T. Galloway, Chas. S. Sharp, S. S. Denbeudorff,
and R. A. Cogswell (Photographer), outfitted with four
flat-bottomed boats, left Green River, Wyoming, Sept.
12, 1909, and reached Needles Nov. 15, 1909, with all
boats in good condition, and with the remarkable record
for Stone and Galloway of having brought their two
boats through without an upset.

Notes. Sharp discontinued the trip at Glen Can-
yon, and one boat was left at this place. Purpose,
photographic exploration.

KOLB

On Sept. 8, 1911, Emery C. Kolb, James Fagin, and
Ellsworth L. Kolb, outfitted with two flat-bottomed
boats, left Green River and arrived at Bright Angel
Trail, Nov. 16, 1911. James Fagin left the party at the
mouth of Lodore Canyon. On Dec. 19, Herbert Lauzon
joined the party at the Grand Canyon for the trip to
Needles ; Ernest V. Kolb was taken along for a twenty-
five mile ride to the end of the Bass Trail. Lauzon fin-

APPENDIX 341

ished the trip at Needles with the Kolb brothers, Jan. 18,
1912. Purpose, moving pictures and photographs. In
May, 1913, E. L. Kolb made the trip from Needles to the
Gulf, travelling on the high water and making the 400-
mile run in 8 days.

THE HISTORY OF CATARACT CANYON

J. S. Best and party left Green River, Utah, July
10, 1891. Wrecked in Cataract Canyon. No lives lost.

There are incomplete records of nine parties who
have attempted to pass through Cataract Canyon, and
who undoubtedly met with fatalities. On two occasions
a single member escaped and reached the Hite ranch
in a famished condition.

John Vartan, an Armenian prospector, lost his boat
and barely succeeded in escaping. His clothes were
made into a rope by which he dropped from a ledge
to a canyon, through which he reached the Land of
Standing Rocks. He was found after weeks of exposure,
during which time he lived on plants and roots. He
was nursed back to life, but never gave a very clear ac-
count of his experiences.

A. G. Turner, the Glen Canyon prospector, made
a successful passage through the rapids of this canyon
in 1907.

342 APPENDIX

The Stone expedition found a wrecked boat and fresh
tracks of three persons, one of these being a boy's tracks,
on the shore. No further trace of them has been dis-
covered.

Charles Smith wrote us that he succeeded in getting
through after we saw him in 1911.

In 1912 Smith and Galloway combined and passed
through in safety. Near Dark Canyon they found the
decomposed body of a man on a rock in mid-stream.
From odors, they judged there were other bodies in
other places not far from this find.

Just before this book goes to press we have received
two letters, one from Mr. J. F. Stone, stating that Gal-
loway had died a natural death. Another letter is from
John Hite, informing us that his brother Cass Hite was
dead. In the same letter he states that Smith left
Blake, Utah, for the third time, in November, 1913, and
had never showed up at his home. Later he and Loper
found half of his wrecked boat. A full heart pays tribute
to the memory of Smith.

So it goes on from year to year. Judging by these
experiences it would seem that the carefully planned
expeditions, especially those with covered boats con-
taining air chambers, succeed in getting through.

The writer believes that a passage can be made through
Cataract Canyon, in low water, without being com-
pelled to run more than one or two bad rapids, if great

APPENDIX 343

care is taken while crossing from one shore to the other
between the rapids. With a light canvas boat, or
with a canoe in the hands of experts, it might be possible
to avoid them all, but I would not care to be so quoted,
as I am a little uncertain about the two last bad rapids.
This would not be possible in Marble or the Grand
Canyon. The last mentioned contains many rapids as
bad as any in Cataract Canyon. We find that all those
who have made successful passages are infatuated with
their type of boat. All we will claim for our type, which
came to us through Stone and Galloway, is that three
expeditions have used this type of boat, and they all
— with the exception of one in perfect condition left by
Stone's party with Kite — finished at Needles. But
whether made of steel, wood, or canvas, all boats should
be decked as much as possible to keep out the powerful
waves, and should contain large air chambers. Row-
locks, oars, paddles, and ropes should be carefully guarded
against breakage and loss.

The flood stage on the Colorado River, about 300,000
cubic second feet, exceeds that on the St. Lawrence River
at Niagara Falls, which carries about 250,000 cubic second
feet. The descent in many rapids on the Colorado equals
that of any section of the St. Lawrence, excepting Niagara
Falls. In the low water stage, the rapids lose much of
their strength of current and violence of waves, and the
flow is only a small fraction of the flood stage.

344

APPENDIX

The deepest canyons of the Green and Colorado
rivers, their length, approximate depth, and the fall of
the river are as follows. These figures are compiled from
"A Canyon Voyage," U. S.G. S. maps, and other sources.

LENGTH IN
MILES

GREATEST DEPTH
IN FEET

APPROXIMATE
DESCENT

Flaming Gorge 1
Horseshoe 1
Kingfisher [
Red J
Lodore

35
20^

27OO
27OO— 3 OOO *

350

A'T.C

Whirlpool

**\J1
IA.

22OO

4^j
14.0

Split Mountain
Desolation

2000
27OO

Gray

-7/

<?6

4, f\J^J

2OOO

) 550 '

Cataract

j^
j.i

27OO— 3000 3

A1Q

Marble

6cJ

-5 COO

TiJ**

480

Grand Canyon

^02
217

jj'-/v-
5OOO-6OOO4

1850

The entire distance from Green River, Wyoming, to
the tide water is something over 1600 miles. The descent
is a little over 6000 feet. About 4300 feet of this descent
occurs in 500 miles of the canyons listed above; 2330
feet comes in Marble Canyon and the Grand Canyon,
the two combined making an unbroken canyon of 283
miles.

1 Peaks close to the canyon reach a height of 3000 ft. above the river.
8 The upper half of Desolation Canyon has no rapids.
1 Maps give depth as 2700 ft. We believe some walls are higher.
4 Greatest depth on the south side of the Grand Canyon is near 5000 ft., on the
north rim about 6000 ft.

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