FROM FLAMING GORGE TO THE GATE OF LODORE.
ONE must not think of a mountain range as a line of peaks standing on a
plain, but as a broad platform many miles wide from which mountains have
been carved by the waters. One must conceive, too, that this plateau is
cut by gulches and canyons in many directions and that beautiful valleys
are scattered about at different altitudes. The first series of canyons
we are about to explore constitutes a river channel through such a range
of mountains. The canyon is cut nearly halfway through the range, then
turns to the east and is cut along the central line, or axis, gradually
crossing it to the south. Keeping this direction for more than 50
miles, it then turns abruptly to a southwest course, and goes diagonally
through the southern slope of the range.
This much we know before entering, as we made a partial exploration of
the region last fall, climbing many of its peaks, and in a few places
reaching the brink of the canyon walls and looking over precipices many
hundreds of feet high to the water below.
Here and there the walls are broken by lateral canyons, the channels
of little streams entering the river. Through two or three of these we
found our way down to the Green in early winter and walked along the low
water-beach at the foot of the cliffs for several miles. Where the river
has this general easterly direction the western part only has cut for
itself a canyon, while the eastern has formed a broad valley, called, in
honor of an old-time trapper, Brown's Park, and long known as a favorite
winter resort for mountain men and Indians.
May 30.--This morning we are ready to enter the mysterious canyon, and
start with some anxiety. The old mountaineers tell us that it cannot be
run; the Indians say, "Water heap catch 'em"; but all are eager for the
trial, and off we go.
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CANYONS OF THE COLORADO.
Entering Flaming Gorge, we quickly run through it on a swift current and
emerge into a little park. Half a mile below, the river wheels sharply
to the left and enters another canyon cut into the mountain. We enter
the narrow passage. On either side the walls rapidly increase in
altitude. On the left are overhanging ledges and cliffs,--500, 1,000,
1,500 feet high.
On the right the rocks are broken and ragged, and the water fills the
channel from cliff to cliff. Now the river turns abruptly around a point
to the right, and the waters plunge swiftly down among great rocks; and
here we have our first experience with canyon rapids. I stand up on the
deck of my boat to seek a way among the wave-beaten rocks. All untried
as we are with such waters, the moments are filled with intense anxiety.
Soon our boats reach the swift current; a stroke or two, now on this.
side, now on that, and we thread the narrow passage with exhilarating
Velocity, mounting the high waves, whose foaming crests dash over us,
and plunging into the troughs, until we reach the quiet water below.
Then comes a feeling of great relief. Our first rapid is run. Another
mile, and we come into the valley again. powell-canyons-91.jpg
CAMP AT FLAMING GORGE
135 powell-canyons-92.jpg
MASHONGNAVI, WITH SHUPAULOVI IN THE DISTANCE.
136 powell-canyons-93.jpg
HORSESHOE CANYON.
FROM FLAMING GORGE TO THE GATE OF LODORE. 137
Let me explain this canyon. Where the river turns to the left above,
it takes a course directly into the mountain, penetrating to its very
heart, then wheels back upon itself, and runs out into the valley from
which it started only half a mile below the point at which it entered;
so the canyon is in the form of an elongated letter U, with the apex in
the center of the mountain. We name it Horseshoe Canyon.
Soon we leave the valley and enter another short canyon, very narrow at
first, but widening below as the canyon walls increase in height. Here
we discover the mouth of a beautiful little creek coming down through
its narrow water-worn cleft. Just at its entrance there is a park of two
or three hundred acres, walled on every side by almost vertical cliffs
hundreds of feet in altitude, with three gateways through the walls--one
up the river, another down, and a third through which the creek comes
in. The river is broad, deep, and quiet, and its waters mirror towering
rocks.
Kingfishers are playing about the streams, and so we adopt as names
Kingfisher Creek, Kingfisher Park, and Kingfisher Canyon. At night we
camp at the foot of this canyon.
Our general course this day has been south, but here the river turns to
the east around a point which is rounded to the shape of a dome. On its
sides little cells have been carved by the action of the water, and in
these pits, which cover the face of the dome, hundreds of swallows have
built their nests. As they flit about the cliffs, they look like swarms
of bees, giving to the whole the appearance of a colossal beehive of the
old-time form, and so we name it Beehive Point.
The opposite wall is a vast amphitheater, rising in a succession of
terraces to a height of 1,200 or 1,500 feet. Each step is built of
red sandstone, with a face of naked red rock and a glacis clothed with
verdure. So the amphitheater seems banded red and green, and the evening
sun is playing with roseate flashes on the rocks, with shimmering green
on the cedars' spray, and with iridescent gleams on the dancing waves.
The landscape revels in the sunshine.
May 31.--We start down another canyon and reach rapids made dangerous by
high rocks lying in the channel; so we run ashore and let our boats down
with lines. In the afternoon we come to more dangerous rapids and stop
to examine them. I find we must do the same work
138 8 CANYONS OF THE COLORADO.
again, but, being on the wrong side of the river to obtain a foothold,
must first cross over--no very easy matter in such a current, with
rapids and rocks below. We take the pioneer boat, "Emma Dean," over, and
unload her on the bank; then she returns and takes another load. Running
back and forth, she soon has half our cargo over. Then one of the larger
boats is manned and taken across, but is carried down almost to the
rocks in spite of hard rowing. The other boats follow and make the
landing, and we go into camp for the night.
At the foot of the cliff on this side there is a long slope covered with
pines; under these we make our beds, and soon after sunset are seeking
rest and sleep. The cliffs on either side are of red sandstone and
stretch toward the heavens 2,500 feet. On this side the long, pine-clad
slope is surmounted by perpendicular cliffs, with pines on their
summits. The wall on the other side is bare rock from the water's edge
up 2,000 feet, then slopes back, giving footing to pines and cedars.
As the twilight deepens, the rocks grow dark and somber; the threatening
roar of the water is loud and constant, and I lie awake with thoughts
of the morrow and the canyons to come, interrupted now and then by
characteristics of the scenery that attract my attention. And here I
make a discovery. On looking at the mountain directly in front, the
steepness of the slope is greatly exaggerated, while the distance to
its summit and its true altitude are correspondingly diminished. I have
heretofore found that to judge properly of the slope of a mountain side,
one must see it in profile. In coming down the river this afternoon, I
observed the slope of a particular part of the wall and made an estimate
of its altitude. While at supper, I noticed the same cliff from a
position facing it, and it seemed steeper, but not half so high. Now
lying on my side and looking at it, the true proportions appear. This
seems a wonder, and I rise to take a view of it standing. It is the same
cliff as at supper time. Lying down again, it is the cliff as seen in
profile, with a long slope and distant summit. Musing on this, I forget
"the morrow and the canyons to come"; I have found a way to estimate the
altitude and slope of an inclination, in like manner as I can judge of
distance along the horizon. The reason is simple. A reference to the
stereoscope will
FROM FLAMING GOEGE TO THE GATE OF LODOEE.
139
suggest it. The distance between the eyes forms a base line for optical
triangulation.
June 1.--To-day we have an exciting ride. The river rolls down the
canyon at a wonderful rate, and, with no rocks in the way, we make
140 powell-canyons-94.jpg
SCENE IN HAND.
almost railroad speed. Here and there the water rushes into a narrow
gorge; the rocks on the side roll it into the center in great waves,
and the boats go leaping and bounding over these like things of life,
reminding me of scenes witnessed in Middle Park--herds of startled deer
bounding through forests beset with fallen timber. I
140 powell-canyons-95.jpg
PESCADO PUEBLO----OUTSIDE STEPS.
FROM FLAMING GORGE TO THE GATE OF LODORE.
141
mention the resemblance to some of the hunters, and so striking is it
that the expression, "See the blacktails jumping the logs," comes to be
a common one. At times the waves break and roll over the boats, which
necessitates much bailing and obliges us to stop occasionally for that
purpose. At one time we run twelve miles in an hour, stoppages included.
Last spring I had a conversation with an old Indian named Páriate,
who told me about one of his tribe attempting to run this canyon. "The
rocks," he said, holding his hands above his head, his arms vertical,
and looking between them to the heavens, "the rocks h-e-a-p,
powell-canyons-96.jpg
OVEN NEAR PESCADO PUEBLO.
h-e-a-p high; the water go h-oo-woogh, h-oo-woogh; water-pony li-e-a-p
buck; water catch 'em; no see 'em Injun any more! no see 'em squaw any
more! no see 'em papoose any more!"
Those who have seen these wild Indian ponies rearing alternately before
and behind, or "bucking," as it is called in the vernacular, will
appreciate his description.
At last we come to calm water, and a threatening roar is heard in the
distance. Slowly approaching the point whence the sound issues, we come
near to falls, and tie up just above them on the left. Here we shall be
compelled to make a portage; so we unload the boats,
142
CANYONS OF THE COLORADO. powell-canyons-97.jpg
PRIMITIVE ANDIRON IN SHUMOPAVI.
and fasten a long line to the bow of the smaller one, and another to the
stern, and moor her close to the brink of the fall. Then the bowline is
taken below and made fast; the stern line is held by five or six men,
and the boat let down as long as they can hold her against the rushing
waters; then, letting go one end of the line, it runs through the ring;
the boat leaps over the fall and is caught by the lower rope.
Now we rest for the night.
June 2.--This morning we make a trail among the rocks, transport the
cargoes to a point below the fall, let the remaining boats over, and are
ready to start before noon.
On a high rock by which the trail passes we find the inscription:
"Ashley 18-5." The third figure is obscure--some of the party reading
it 1835, some 1855. James Baker, an old-time mountaineer, once told me
about a party of men starting down the river, and Ashley was
FROM FLAMING GORGE TO THE GATE OF LODORE.
143
named as one. The story runs that the boat was swamped, and some of
the party drowned in one of the canyons below. The word "Ashley" is a
warning to us, and we resolve on great caution. Ashley Falls is the name
we give to the cataract.
The river is very narrow, the right wall vertical for 200 or 300 feet,
the left towering to a great height, with a vast pile of broken rocks
lying between the foot of the cliff and the water. Some of the rocks
broken down from the ledge above have tumbled into the channel and
caused this fall. One great cubical block, thirty or forty feet high,
stands in the middle of the stream, and the waters, parting to either
side, plunge down about twelve feet, and are broken again by the smaller
rocks into a rapid below. Immediately below the falls the water occupies
the entire channel, there being no talus at the foot of the cliffs.
powell-canyons-98.jpg
TUSAYAN HEALING-STONES.
144 powell-canyons-99.jpg
K1VA AND STONE CORRALS OF MASHONGNAVI.
FROM FLAMING GORGE TO THE GATE OF LODORE. 145
We embark and run down a short distance, where we find a landing-place
for dinner.
On the waves again all the afternoon. Near the lower end of this canyon,
to which we have given the name of Red Canyon, is a little park, where
streams come down from distant mountain summits and enter the river on
either side; and here we camp for the night under two stately pines.
June 3.--This morning we spread our rations, clothes, etc., on the
ground to dry, and several of the party go out for a hunt. I take a walk
of five or six miles up to a pine-grove park, its grassy carpet bedecked
with crimson velvet flowers, set in groups on the stems of pear-shaped
cactus plants; patches of painted cups are seen here and there, with
yellow blossoms protruding through scarlet bracts; little blue-eyed
flowers are peeping through the grass; and the air is filled with
fragrance from the white blossoms of the Spiraea. A mountain brook runs
through the midst, ponded below by beaver dams. It is a quiet place for
retirement from the raging waters of the canyon.
It will be remembered that the course of the river from Flaming Gorge
to Beehive Point is in a southerly direction and at right angles to the
Uinta Mountains, and cuts into the range until it reaches a point within
five miles of the crest, where it turns to the east and pursues a course
not quite parallel to the trend of the range, but crosses the axis
slowly in a direction a little south of east. Thus there is a triangular
tract between the river and the axis of the mountain, with its acute
angle extending eastward. I climb the mountain overlooking this country.
To the east the peaks are not very high, and already most of the snow
has melted, but little patches lie here and there under the lee of
ledges of rock. To the west the peaks grow higher and the snow fields
larger. Between the brink of the canyon and the foot of these peaks,
there is a high bench. A number of creeks have their sources in the
snowbanks to the south and run north into the canyon, tumbling down
from 3,000 to 5,000 feet in a distance of five or six miles. Along their
upper courses they run through grassy valleys, but as they approach Red
Canyon they rapidly disappear under the general surface of the country,
and emerge into the canyon below in
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CANYONS OF THE COLORADO.
deep, dark gorges of their own. Each of these short lateral canyons is
marked by a succession of cascades and a wild confusion of rocks and
trees and fallen timber and thick undergrowth.
The little valleys above are beautiful parks; between the parks are
stately pine forests, half hiding ledges of red sandstone. Mule deer
and elk abound; grizzly bears, too, are abundant; and here wild cats,
wolverines, and mountain lions are at home. The forest aisles are filled
with the music of birds, and the parks are decked powell-canyons-100.jpg
"HOGBACKS," WITH INTERVENING VALLEYS.
with flowers. Noisy brooks meander through them; ledges of moss-covered
rocks are seen; and gleaming in the distance are the snow fields, and
the mountain tops are away in the clouds.
June 4---We start early and run through to Brown's Park. Halfway down
the valley, a spur of a red mountain stretches across the river, which
cuts a canyon through it. Here the walls are comparatively low, but
vertical. A vast number of swallows have built their adobe houses on the
face of the cliffs, on either side of the river. The waters are deep and
quiet, but the swallows are swift and noisy enough, sweeping by in their
curved paths through the air or chattering from the rocks, while the
young ones stretch their little heads on naked necks
FROM FLAMING GORGE TO THE GATE OF LODORE. 147
through the doorways of their mud houses and clamor for food. They are a
noisy people. We call this Swallow Canyon.
Still down the river we glide until an early hour in the afternoon, when
we go into camp under a giant cottonwood standing on the right bank a
little way back from the stream. The party has succeeded in killing
a fine lot of wild ducks, and during the afternoon a mess of fish is
taken.
June 5.--With one of the men I climb a mountain, off on the right. A
long spur, with broken ledges of rock, puts down to the river, and along
its course, or up the "hogback," as it is called, I make the ascent.
Dunn, who is climbing to the same point, is coming up the gulch. Two
hours' hard work has brought us to the summit. These mountains are
all verdure-clad; pine and cedar forests are set on green terraces;
snow-clad mountains are seen in the distance, to the west; the plains of
the upper Green stretch out before us to the north until they are lost
in the blue heavens; but half of the river-cleft range intervenes, and
the river itself is at our feet.
This half range, beyond the river, is composed of long ridges nearly
parallel with the valley. On the farther ridge, to the north, four
creeks have their sources. These cut through the intervening ridges, one
of which is much higher than that on which they head, by canyon gorges;
then they run with gentle curves across the valley, their banks set with
willows, box-elders, and cottonwood groves. To the east we look up the
valley of the Vermilion, through which Fremont found his path on his way
to the great parks of Colorado.
The reading of the barometer taken, we start down in company, and reach
camp tired and hungry, which does not abate one bit our enthusiasm as we
tell of the day's work with its glory of landscape.
June 6.--At daybreak I am awakened by a chorus of birds. It seems as
if all the feathered songsters of the region have come to the old tree.
Several species of warblers, woodpeckers, and flickers above, meadow
larks in the grass, and wild geese in the river. I recline on my elbow
and watch a lark near by, and then awaken my bedfellow, to listen to my
Jenny Lind. A real morning concert for me; none of your "matinées"!
Our cook has been an ox-driver, or "bull-whacker," on the plains, in
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CANYONS OF THE COLORADO. powell-canyons-101.jpg
AN ANCIENT PUEBLO METATE.
one of those long trains now no longer seen, and he hasn't forgotten his
old ways. In the midst of the concert, his voice breaks in: "Roll out!
roll out! bulls in the corral! chain up the gaps! Roll out! roll out!
roll out!" And this is our breakfast bell.
To-day we pass through, the park, and camp at the head of another
canyon.
June 7.--To-day two or three of us climb to the summit of the cliff on
the left, and find its altitude above camp to be 2,086 feet. The rocks
are split with fissures, deep and narrow, sometimes a hundred feet or
more to the bottom, and these fissures are filled with loose earth and
decayed vegetation in which lofty pines find root. On a rock we find a
pool of clear, cold water, caught from yesterday evening's shower. After
a good drink we walk out to the brink of the canyon and look down to
the water below. I can do this now, but it has taken several years of
mountain climbing to cool my nerves so that I can sit with my feet over
the edge and calmly look down a precipice 2,000 feet. And yet I cannot
look on and see another do the same. I must either bid him come away
or turn my head. The canyon walls are buttressed on a grand scale, with
deep alcoves intervening; columned crags crown the cliffs, and the river
is rolling below.
When we return to camp at noon the sun shines in splendor on vermilion
walls, shaded into green and gray where the rocks are lichened over; the
river fills the channel from wall to wall, and the canyon opens, like
a beautiful portal, to a region of glory. This evening, as I write,
the sun is going down and the shadows are settling in the canyon. The
vermilion gleams and roseate hues, blending with the green and gray
tints, are slowly changing to somber brown above, and black shadows are
creeping over them below; and now it is a dark portal to a region
of gloom--the gateway through which we are to enter on our voyage of
exploration tomorrow. What shall we find? powell-canyons-102.jpg
A ZUÑÍ STOOL.
FROM FLAMING GORGE TO THE GATE OF LODORE.
149
The distance from Flaming Gorge to Beehive Point is 9 2/3 miles.
Besides passing through the gorge, the river runs through Horseshoe and
Kingfisher canyons, separated by short valleys. The highest point on the
walls at Flaming Gorge is 1,300 feet above the river. The east wall at
the apex of Horseshoe Canyon is about 1,600 feet above the water's edge,
and from this point the walls slope both to the head and foot of the
canyon.
Kingfisher Canyon, starting at the water's edge above, steadily
increases in altitude to 1,200 feet at the foot.
Red Canyon is 25 2/3 miles long, and the highest walls are about 2,500
feet.
Brown's Park is a valley, bounded on either side by a mountain range,
really an expansion of the canyon. The river, through the park, is 35
1/2 miles long, but passes through two short canyons on its way, where
spurs from the mountains on the south are thrust across its course.
powell-canyons-103.jpg
150 powell-canyons-104.jpg
THE HOME OF THE CHIEF.
151