The _Cañonita_ Left Behind--Shinumo Ruins--Troublesome Ledges
in the River--Alcoves and Amphitheatres--The Mouth of the San
Juan--Starvation Days and a Lookout for Rations--El Vado de
Los Padres--White Men Again--Given up for Lost--Navajo
Visitors--Peaks with a Great Echo--At the Mouth of the Paria.
Having now accomplished a distance down this turbulent river of nearly
six hundred miles, with a descent toward sea-level of 2645 feet, without
a serious accident, we were all in a happy frame of mind,
notwithstanding the exceedingly diminutive food supply that remained. We
felt that we could overcome almost anything in the line of rapids the
world might afford, and Steward declared our party was so efficient he
would be willing to "run the Gates of Hell" with them! Barring an
absence of heat Cataract Canyon had been quite a near approach to that
unwelcome entrance, and the locality of the mouth of the Dirty Devil
certainly resembled some of the more favoured portions of Satan's
notorious realm. Circumstances would prohibit our lingering here, for
our long stretch on short rations made the small amount we could allow
ourselves at each meal seem almost like nothing at all, and we were
desirous of reaching as soon as possible El Vado, something over a
hundred miles below, where our pack-train was doubtless now waiting.
The plan of leaving a boat at this place for a party to bring down,
which should penetrate the unknown country the next year and then
complete what we might now be compelled to slight, was carried out.
The _Cañonita_ was chosen and the day after our arrival, Sunday,
October 1st, we ran her down a short distance on the right, and there
carried her back about two hundred feet to a low cliff and up thirty
or forty feet above the prevailing stage of water, where we hid her
under an enormous mass of rock which had so fallen from the top as to
lodge against the wall, forming a perfect shelter somewhat longer than
the boat. All of her cargo had been left at camp and we filled her
cabins and standing-rooms with sand, also piling sand and stones all
about her to prevent high water from carrying her off. When we were
satisfied that we had done our best we turned away feeling as one
might on leaving a friend, and hoping that she would be found intact
the following year. As nine o'clock only had arrived, the Major and
Jones then climbed out from this place, while Prof. with the _Nell_
ran down about a mile and a half to the mouth of a gulch on the right
where he and the Major had traced the old trail. The rest of us
returned to camp. Prof. and Cap. climbed out, after following the
trail up the gulch six miles, and they saw that it went toward the
Unknown Mountains, which now lay very near us on the west. Steward got
out by an attempt not so far up the canyon and reached an altitude of
1950 feet, where he had a clear, full view of the mountains. With his
glass he was able to study their formation and determined that lava
from below had spread out between the sedimentary strata, forming what
he called "blisters." He could see where one side of a blister had
been eroded, showing the surrounding stratification.[19]
When the Major and Jones came back we put the cargo of the _Cañonita_ on
the _Dean_, and all of us embarked, seven in number, and ran down to
where the _Nell_ was moored. Here we camped for the night. The crews
were then rearranged, Beaman being assigned to my bow oars, Clem and
Andy going in the _Nell_, while I was to sit on the middle cabin of the
_Dean_ in front of the Major, where I could carry on my sketching. We
were now a shaggy-looking lot, for our clothes had been almost worn off
our bodies in the rapids. Our shoes, notwithstanding that the Major had
brought us a fresh supply at Gunnison Crossing, were about gone, and we
were tanned till we could hardly have been distinguished from the old
Shinumos themselves; but we were clean. Steward was a great lover of
Burns and could quote him by the page, though what he most liked to
repeat just now was:
"O wad some Power the giftie gie us
To see oursels as others see us!"
I think the _Address to the Deil_ would have been appropriate for this
particular environment, but I do not remember that Steward quoted:
"Hear me, auld Hangie, for a wee,
An' let poor damned bodies be;
I'm sure sma' pleasure it can gie,
E'en to the deil,
To skelp an' scaud poor dogs like me,
An' hear us squeel!"
The cargo of the _Cañonita_ was distributed among the cabins of the
_Dean_ and the _Nell_, and Cap. was somewhat disturbed by having an
addition to the bow compartment in the _Nell_. Each man had charge of a
cabin and this was Cap.'s special pride. He daily packed it so
methodically that it became a standing joke with us, and we often asked
him whether he always placed that thermometer back of the fifth rib or
in front of the third, or some such nonsensical question, which of
course Cap. took in good part and only arranged his cabin still more
carefully.
The next morning, the 2d of October, at eight o'clock, we continued our
voyage, now entering a new canyon, then called Mound, but it was
afterwards consolidated with the portion below called Monument, and
together they now stand as Glen Canyon. In about three and one half
miles we ran several sharp little rapids, but they were not of much
consequence, and we stopped to examine a house ruin we saw standing up
boldly on a cliff on the left. It could be seen for a long distance in
both directions, and correspondingly its inmates in the old days could
see every approach. Doubtless the trail we had seen on the right had its
exit on the other side near it. The walls, neatly built of thin
sandstone slabs, still stood about fifteen feet high and fifteen inches
thick. The dimensions on the ground were 12 × 22 feet outside. It had
been of two or three stories, and exhibited considerable skill on the
part of the builders, the corners being plumb and square. Under the
brink of the cliff was a sort of gallery formed by the erosion of a soft
shale between heavy sandstone beds, forming a floor and roof about eight
or ten feet wide, separated by six or seven feet in vertical height. A
wall had been carried along the outer edge, and the space thus made was
divided by cross walls into a number of rooms. Potsherds and
arrow-heads, mostly broken ones, were strewn everywhere. There were also
numerous picture-writings, of which I made copies.
As we pulled on and on the Major frequently recited selections from the
poets, and one that he seemed to like very much, and said sometimes half
in reverie, was Longfellow's:
"Often I think of the beautiful town
That is seated by the sea;
Often in thought go up and down
The pleasant streets of that dear old town,
And my youth comes back to me.
And a verse of a Lapland song
Is haunting my memory still:
'A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.'"
He would repeat several times, with much feeling:
"A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."
Another thing he enjoyed repeating was Whittier's _Skipper Ireson's
Ride_:
"Old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart,
Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart
By the women of Marblehead!"
Towards evening we came to another Shinumo ruin, where we made camp,
having run altogether sixteen miles, with ten rapids, all small, between
walls of red, homogeneous sandstone, averaging about one thousand feet
in height. The river, some three hundred and fifty feet wide, was low,
causing many shoals, which formed the small rapids. We often had to wade
alongside to lighten the boats, but otherwise these places were easy. A
trifle more water would have done away with them, or at least would have
enabled us to ignore them completely. The house ruin at our camp was
very old and broken down and had dimensions of about 20 × 30 feet. Prof.
climbed out to a point 1215 feet above the river, where he saw plainly
the Unknown Mountains, Navajo Mountain, and a wide sweep of country
formed largely of barren sandstone. Steward felt considerably under the
weather and remained as quiet as possible.
In the morning we were quickly on the water, pushing along under
conditions similar to those of the previous day, making twenty-seven
miles and passing eleven very small rapids, with a river four hundred
feet wide and the same walls of homogeneous red sandstone about one
thousand feet high. The cliffs in the bends were often slightly
overhanging, that is, the brink was outside of a perpendicular line,
but the opposite side would then generally be very much cut down,
usually to irregular, rounded slopes of smooth rock. The vertical
portions were unbroken by cracks or crevices or ledges, being extensive
flat surfaces, beautifully stained by iron, till one could imagine all
manner of tapestry effects. Along the river there were large patches of
alluvial soil which might easily be irrigated, though it is probable
that at certain periods they would be rapidly cut to pieces by high
water.
Prof. again climbed out at our noon camp, and saw little but naked
orange sandstone in rounded hills, except the usual mountains. In the
barren sandstone he found many pockets or pot-holes, a feature of this
formation, often thirty or forty feet deep, and frequently containing
water. Wherever we climbed out in this region we saw in the depressions
flat beds of sand, surrounded by hundreds of small round balls of stone
an inch or so in diameter, like marbles--concretions and hard fragments
which had been driven round and round by the winds till they were quite
true spheres.[20]
The next day, October 4th, we ran into a stratum of sandstone shale,
which at this low stage of water for about five miles gave us some
trouble. Ledge after ledge stretched across the swift river, which at
the same time spread to at least six hundred feet, sometimes one
thousand. We were obliged to walk in the water alongside for great
distances to lighten the boats and ease them over the ridges.
Occasionally the rock bottom was as smooth as a ballroom floor; again it
would be carved in the direction of the current into thousands of
narrow, sharp, polished ridges, from three to twelve inches apart, upon
which the boats pounded badly in spite of all exertions to prevent it.
The water was alternately shallow and ten feet deep, giving us all we
could do to protect the boats and at the same time avoid sudden duckings
in deep water. With all our care the _Nell_ got a bad knock, and leaked
so fast that one man continually bailing could barely keep the water
out. We repaired her at dinner-time, and, the shales running up above
the river, we escaped further annoyance from this cause. Even with this
interference our progress was fairly good, and by camping-time we had
made twenty-one miles.
We had a rapid shallow river again the following day, October 5th, but
the water was not so widely spread out and there were fewer delays. The
walls were of orange sandstone, strangely cut up by narrow side canyons
some not more than twenty feet wide and twisting back for a quarter of a
mile where they expanded into huge amphitheatres, domed and cave-like.
Alcoves filled with trees and shrubs also opened from the river, and
numerous springs were noted along the cliffs. Twelve miles below our
camp we passed a stream coming in on the left through a canyon about one
thousand feet deep, similar to that of the Colorado. This was the San
Juan, now shallow and some eight rods wide. We did not stop till noon
when we were two miles below it near one of the amphitheatres or
grottoes to which the first party had given the name of "Music Temple."
The entrance was by a narrow gorge which after some distance widened at
the bottom to about five hundred feet in diameter leaving the upper
walls arching over till they formed a dome-shaped cavern about two
hundred feet high with a narrow belt of sky visible above. In the
farther end was a pool of clear water, while five or six green
cottonwoods and some bushes marked the point of expansion. One side was
covered with bright ferns, mosses, and honeysuckle. Every whisper or
cough resounded. This was only one of a hundred such places but we had
no time to examine them. On a smooth space of rock we found carved by
themselves the names of Seneca Howland, O. G. Howland, and William Dunn,
the three men of the first party who were killed by the Shewits in 1869.
Prof. climbed up eight hundred feet and had a fine view of Navajo
Mountain which was now very near. We then chiefly called it Mount
Seneca Howland, applied by the Major in memory of that unfortunate
person but later, the peak already having to some extent been known as
Navajo Mountain, that name was finally adopted. No one had ever been to
it, so far as we knew, and the Major was desirous of reaching the
summit.
[Illustration: Glen Canyon.
Photograph by E. O. Beaman, 1871.]
Leaving the Music Temple, which seemed to us a sort of mausoleum to the
three men who had marked it with their names, we soon arrived at a
pretty rapid with a clear chute. It was not large but it was the only
real one we had seen in this canyon and we dashed through it with
pleasure. Just below we halted to look admiringly up at Navajo Mountain
which now loomed beside us on the left to an altitude of 10,416 feet
above sea level or more than 7100 feet above our position, as was later
determined. The Major contemplated stopping long enough for a climb to
the top but on appealing to Andy for information as to the state of the
supplies he found we were near the last crust and he decided that we had
better pull on as steadily as possible towards El Vado. We ran down a
considerable distance through some shallows and camped on the left
having accomplished about twenty miles in the day towards our goal. Here
the remaining food was divided into two portions, one for supper, the
other for breakfast in the morning. Though we were running so close to
the starvation line we felt no great concern about it. We always had
confidence in our ability somehow to get through with success. Andy,
particularly, never failed in his optimism. Generally he took no
interest in the nature of a rapid, lying half asleep while the others
examined the place, and entirely willing to run anything or make a
portage or even swim; he cared not. "Nothing ever happens to any outfit
I belong to," he would declare shifting to an easier position, "Let her
go!" and now so far as Andy's attitude was concerned we might have
possessed unlimited rations. Jack lightened the situation yet more with
his jolly songs and humorous expressions and no one viewing that camp
would have thought the ten men had before them a possibility of several
days without food, except what they might kill in the barren country,
and perhaps a walk from El Vado over an unknown trail about one hundred
miles out to Kanab. In the morning, Friday, October 6th, we got away as
quickly as we could and pulled down the river hoping that El Vado was
not far ahead and feeling somewhat as Escalante must have felt a century
before when he was trying to find it. He had the advantage of having
horses which could be eaten from time to time. Of course we knew from
the position of the San Juan and of Navajo Mountain, that we could reach
El Vado in at most two days, but the question was, "would we find any
one there with rations?" The Major apparently was unconcerned. He told
me a story about a farmer's son in his neighbourhood when himself a boy
who had no shoes, no good clothes, no decent hat, but who went to the
father and declared he wanted a "buzzum pin," and nothing but a buzzum
pin would he have, though his parent called his attention to his lack of
other necessaries, one after the other. "No Pa," the boy would repeat "I
want a buzzum pin."
[Illustration: Looking down upon Glen Canyon.
Cut through homogeneous sandstone.
Photograph by J. K. Hillers, U. S. Colo. Riv. Exp.]
As we rowed along the Major sang softly another of his favourites:
"Flow gently, sweet Afton! among thy green braes,
Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise;
My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream--
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream."
The almost vertical walls ran from two hundred to one thousand feet in
height, cut by many very narrow side canyons opening into large glens or
alcoves. On and on we steadily pulled till noon, making 13-1/2 miles
when we stopped on the right on a sandstone ledge against a high cliff.
Andy had a few scraps left, among them a bit of bacon which Jack
enterprisingly used for baiting a hook and soon drew out several small
fish, so that after all we had quite a dinner. The walls became more
broken as we went on apparently with numerous opportunities for entrance
from the back country, though the sandstone even where not very steep
was so smooth that descent over it would be difficult. We had gone about
three miles after dinner when we saw a burned place in the brush on the
right where there was quite a large piece of bottom land. We thought
this might be some signal for us but we found there only the tracks of
two men and horses all well shod proving that they were not natives.
About three miles farther down we caught a glimpse of a stick with a
white rag dangling from it stuck out from the right bank, and at the
same moment heard a shot. On landing and mounting the bank we found
Captain Pardyn Dodds and two prospectors, George Riley and John
Bonnemort, encamped beside a large pile of rations. Dodds was one of
the men with Old Jacob who had tried desperately to reach the mouth of
the Dirty Devil with our supplies. He thought he had arrived at a point
where he could see it and went back to inform Jacob when they received
an order from the Major to come to this place, El Vado de los Padres, by
September 25th, and here he was. Jacob had come with him but had gone on
to Fort Defiance, the Navajo Agency, to settle some Indian business,
leaving him to guard the rations. Having left Kanab early in September
they had no late news. They had become discouraged by our non-appearance
and concluded that we would never be heard from again. Consequently they
had planned to cache the rations and leave for the settlement on Sunday.
That night Andy was able to summon us to "go fur" the first "square"
meal we had eaten for nearly a month. There was among the supplies some
plug tobacco which we cut up, all but Steward, Prof., and Cap. who did
not smoke, and rolled in cigarettes with thick yellow paper, the only
kind we had, having learned to make them Spanish fashion from the
Hamblins, and we smoked around the fire talking to Dodds and the
prospectors over the general news. They told us they had found small
quantities of gold along the river. A great many papers, magazines, and
letters for everybody were in the packs supplying us with reading matter
enough for weeks. Though the papers were of ancient dates they were new
to us.
The whole next day was consumed in preparing maps, notes, specimens,
fossils, etc., to be sent by pack-train to the settlement of Kanab one
hundred miles off whither the Major himself had decided to start with
the outfit the next morning and go from there to Salt Lake City about
400 miles north. None of us had a chance to write even a line to
expectant relatives far away and we were naturally disappointed till
Prof. persuaded the Major to hold over till Tuesday which he willingly
did when he realised the situation. We wrote late by the light of a
diminutive fire, wood being scarce. He then left us on October 10th with
Jack, Captain Dodds, and the miners who had waited only to learn
something about the river above as a place for prospecting. The trail up
over the barren sandstone was so steep and smooth that two of the
pack-animals lost their footing and rolled back to the bottom but
received no injury except scraping the skin off their knees.
Not the least welcome articles among the supplies were a pair of good
heavy shoes and a pair of strong overalls, which the foresight of the
Major had secured for each one of us, our clothing, as before
mentioned, having been completely worn out. My watch, which I had
carried all the way in a little rubber pocket sewed to my shirt near the
neck, where it seldom got wet enough to stop it, though occasionally it
refused to go till I punched it up with a large pin kept for the
purpose, which my wicked companions called my "starting bar," at last
had stopped permanently, and I sent it out by Jack for repairs. After
they had gone we settled down again to our accustomed labours. We were
to run down thirty-five miles farther to the mouth of the Paria, whence
there was another known trail to the settlement, and cache the boats.
The pack-train was to come back to us there with additional supplies and
horses and take us out to Kanab, where we were to make headquarters for
our winter explorations in the practically unknown Grand Canyon region
as well as in that to the eastward. During this interval we expected to
discover some point between the Paria and Diamond Creek where rations
could be brought in to us while working through the Grand Canyon the
next season. We did not then know that the winter is the safest and best
time for making the passage through that wonderful gorge.[21]
Our appetites were now enormous, and as we could eat all we wanted, the
supplies diminished in an astonishing way, but as we were soon to
receive more we did not care. Every man braced up; all but Steward, who
felt quite sick. Jones began to feel trouble brewing in the leg which he
had hurt at the Junction; Andy showed the effects of the scorpion bite
by becoming thin and pale, thinner than our previous lack of rations
justified; Cap., who had been shot in the Civil War through and through
near the heart, now felt the effects of the long exposure; and neither
Clem nor Beaman considered their health perfect. Altogether, however, we
had come through very well. Our worst work was over for this year, and
the maladies portending seemed not dangerous. Prof., desiring to get
some notes from up the river, went on the 11th, with Cap., Beaman, and
Clem, back six miles in the _Dean_ to the foot of some rapid water they
could not pass. Arriving there about half-past twelve, they spent all
afternoon going up numerous gulches, trying to find a way out. As there
was a large area of bottom land, with old camp-fires and much broken
pottery, they were sure there was a path, but it was late before they
discovered a place where modern natives had piled brush and stones to
make a horse trail, and another where the old Shinumos for fifty feet
had cut steps in the smooth rock. The party followed the Shinumo trail,
finding the steps in places almost worn out by time, in others still
quite good and large enough to get the toe of a shoe in. By the time
they came to the top it was too late for observations, and they returned
to the river for camp, making the same climb by the steps the next day
and securing the observations. They got back to our Camp 79 late in the
afternoon. Meanwhile Steward's illness had increased, and I spent much
of the night trying to relieve his pain. The air was cold and he was
most uncomfortable, the only shelter being a wickiup of boughs we had
built to protect him from the sun. We had opium pills in our medicine
chest, and I had the little flask of brandy referred to. With several of
the pills and my brandy, which I at last persuaded him to take as
medicine (he despised alcoholic drinks), his suffering was somewhat
relieved, and he was able to lie still on his bed of willows. During the
next day his condition was no better, and Prof. returning, was much
distressed by it. By drawing further on the medicine chest, which
contained numerous remedies, he was able to relieve him a little more.
The exposure had brought on a trouble of the back which had originally
developed during the campaigns of the Civil War.
[Illustration: Tom.
A Typical Navajo.
Photograph by Wittick.
Tom became educated and no longer looked like an Indian.]
Before leaving this point Prof. wanted some observations from the
heights, and he and Cap. tried to climb the near-by cliffs, but failed.
They then took a hammer and chisel, and by cutting "holds" in the
sandstone after the manner of the old Shinumos, they got up 850 feet and
secured the bearings Prof. desired. The following day they went out on
the trail toward Kanab five miles, trying to find another point of exit
to the summit, but did not succeed. While they were gone we heard a
sudden shout, and saw an Indian standing on the rocks not far away. We
beckoned for him to come, and thereupon he fell back to another, and
together they approached. We saw by their dress, so different from the
Ute (red turbans, loose unbleached cotton shirts, native woven sashes at
the waist, wide unbleached cotton trousers reaching to a little below
the knee and there slashed up on the outer side for seven or eight
inches, bright woven garters twisted around their red buckskin leggins
below the knee, and red moccasins with turned up soles and silver
buttons), that they were Navajos.[22] They indicated that they were
father and son, the father announcing himself in a lordly way as "Agua
Grande." He was over six feet tall and apparently sixty or seventy years
old. The son was a fine young lad of about fifteen. Their bearing was
cordial, yet proud and dignified. They had not long been with us when
Prof. came in, and during the next hour seven more Navajos arrived, all
dressed very much as the first ones were. They expressed great
friendliness by embracing us after their custom and delivering long
speeches, of which we understood not a word. One had a short black
mustache which came straight out sidewise and then turned at right
angles down past the corners of his mouth. I never had heard of an
Indian with a mustache before. They had no visible firearms, being armed
with strong bows and cougar-skin quivers full of iron-headed arrows.[23]
Old Agua Grande became much interested in our sick man, and made signs
by placing two spread fingers of one hand inverted upon one finger held
horizontally of the other hand, and moving them north-westerly to
indicate that he ought to ride out to the Mormon settlement, whither
they were bound, and that they would take him along. As the chief had
exhibited a document, signed by the agent at Fort Defiance, to the
effect that he and his band were peaceable and going on a trading
expedition to the Mormon settlements, we felt certain they would take
good care of the invalid, but Steward said he preferred to remain with
us.
We now had no further work for this immediate locality, and concluded to
run down a mile or so to separate ourselves from the Navajos, one having
disclosed a tendency to surreptitiously appropriate small articles
belonging to us. A bed was made on the middle deck of one of the boats
for Steward, and when all was ready we carried him down to it. The
Navajos ranged themselves along the bank to see us off, and Clem, with
his customary urbanity, went down the line all smiles, shaking each one
cordially by the hand, and requesting him to "Give my love to all the
folks at home," and "Remember me, please, to Eliza Jane," and similar
expressions. The Navajos did not understand the words, but being
themselves great jokers they saw that it was fun, and they all laughed,
making remarks which doubtless were of the same kind. Just below was El
Vado de los Padres by which these Navajos had now come across. It was
also sometimes called the Ute Ford. The necessary route was indicated by
a line of small piles of stones showing above water. It was not an easy
crossing, feasible only at low water, and quite impossible for waggons,
even had there been a road to it. A shoal was followed up the middle of
the river half a mile with deep channels cutting through it, reached
from the south over a steep slope of bare sandstone and from the north
through a very narrow, small canyon, not over ten feet wide. Escalante
in 1776, after the failure of his attempt to reach California, had great
difficulty in finding the place, which for centuries has been known to
all the tribes of the region. About three miles below our last camp we
landed on the left on a very pretty piece of bottom land, inaccessible
except by river, being bounded behind by a high, vertical, unscalable
wall. Here we made Camp 80, with plenty of food, water, and wood, and
all were comfortable by a fine fire; all but Steward, who, feeling very
sick, was lying on the bed we had prepared for him. He had another bad
night, but after this his condition seemed gradually to improve.
[Illustration: Glen Canyon.
Sentinel Rock--about 300 Feet High.
Photograph by E. O. Beaman, 1871.]
Prof.'s favourite quotation now was Charles Fenno Hoffman's poem:
"We were not many--we who stood
Before the iron sleet that day;
Yet many a gallant spirit would
Give half his years if but he could
Have been with us at Monterey."
In the morning he went with Jones across the river and climbed out while
the rest of us did nothing but lie around camp doing what was possible
to make Steward comfortable. It was Sunday as well and whenever
practicable we rested the whole or part of that day. Monday we started
late and ran only a short distance before dinner which we ate on the
right. Steward still was unable to sit up and he was carried on the
middle deck of the _Nell_ where he had a rope to cling to so that he
should not roll off into the water when the boat lurched. Toward evening
we camped at the head of a small rapid near a fine little stream coming
in from the left which we named Navajo Creek. The river was about four
hundred feet wide with walls on each side of four hundred feet in
height. The next morning Prof., Cap. and I climbed out for bearings
reaching an altitude a mile or so back from the river of 875 feet.
Everywhere we discovered broken pottery, fragments of arrow-heads, and
other evidences of former Shinumo occupancy. Even granting only a few
persons at each possible locality, the canyons of the Colorado and Green
must have been the former home of a rather large population. In the
afternoon we ran the little rapid and kept on for about six miles making
twenty in all from El Vado, when we camped on a heavy talus on the left.
The following morning, October 18th, we had not gone more than a mile
when we came to a singular freak of erosion, a lone sandstone pinnacle
on the right, three hundred or four hundred feet high, the river running
on one side and a beautiful creek eight feet wide on the other. We named
these Sentinel Rock and Sentinel Creek and camped there for Beaman to
get some photographs. Prof. and I went up the creek and tried to climb
out for observations, but though we made three separate attempts we had
to give it up. Steward grew so much better that he was able to walk a
little, but now Jones began to feel more pain in his injured leg. On
Thursday, the 19th, we made nearly seven miles between walls about eight
hundred feet high and one quarter of a mile apart, so nearly vertical
that we could not get out.
The next day we ran six miles more with walls one thousand feet high,
camping at a place where there was a wide bottom with many signs of old
native camps, probably Navajo. In the morning Prof., Cap., and I climbed
a steep slope of bright orange sand a little below our camp, a rather
hard task as the sand was loose, causing us to slip backward at every
step. After twelve hundred or fifteen hundred feet of this kind of
climbing we reached the base of three rocky peaks several hundred feet
higher. We had considerable difficulty in surmounting one of these,
being forced around to the opposite side, where there was a sheer
descent from our position of some fifteen hundred feet, with sharp black
rocks at the bottom where any one slipping would fall. There were some
narrow transverse crevices in the rock by means of which we got up. One
man, having been pushed aloft from the solid ledge by the two below,
would lie back against the slope, brace himself with one heel in a
transverse fissure, and lower the free foot as a handhold for the
others to mount by. The next trouble was a crevice wide enough for us
to pass through to the top, but holding exactly midway a large rock
lodged in such a manner that we could not crawl under and yet seeming
in danger of rolling down if we went over it. It was precarious not only
for the man ahead who tried to pass but for those below waiting for
results, but it was more firmly wedged than it appeared to be and each
one in turn climbed over it. Emerging from this crack we were on the
summit 2190 feet above the river and 5360 above the sea, with standing
room no more than six or eight feet square. The view was superb. The
peaks formed the northern end of a long line of cliffs running back to
the south at the end of Glen Canyon, and we looked out across a
wonderful region, part of that on the south being the "Painted Desert,"
so called by Ives. Mountains solid and solitary rose up here and there
and line upon line of strangely coloured cliffs broke across the wide
area, while from our feet stretching off to the south-west like a great
dark dragon extending miles into the blue was the deep gorge of Marble
Canyon, its tributary chasms appearing like mighty sprawling legs. Far
away west were the San Francisco Mountains, and the Kaibab, while behind
we saw Navajo Mountain and others.
This peak, or cluster of peaks, of course had never been named, had
never been climbed before, but they soon named themselves. For amusement
I tried to shoot into the river with Cap.'s 44 Remington revolver. As I
pulled the trigger the noise was absolutely staggering. The violent
report was followed by dead silence. While we were remarking the
intensity of the crash, from far away on some distant cliffs northward
the sound waves were hurled back to us with a rattle like that of
musketry. We tried again with the same result, the interval between the
great roar and the echo being twenty-four seconds by the watch. We could
call the place nothing but Echo Peaks, and since then the name has been
applied also to the line of cliffs breaking to the south. Our descent
was easy and we reached camp without any incident except the loss of my
sheath knife.
Nobody did anything the next day, for it was Sunday, so when Monday
morning came we were eager to be off for the mouth of the Paria, which
we had seen from the top of Echo Peaks. Two or three miles down we
reached it; a small river coming through a great canyon on the right.
The cliffs of Glen Canyon broke back south-westerly and south-easterly
in a V form with the point at the foot of Glen Canyon, leaving a wide
platform of different rock rising gently from under them and mounting
steadily toward the south. Into the middle of this the river immediately
slashed a narrow gorge very much as a staircase might be cut through a
floor, beginning the next canyon of the series, called Marble, through
which we would not descend till the following year. We went into camp on
the left bank of the Paria and the right of the Colorado, Camp 86, in
the tall willows. A rough scow lay there, which the Major had built the
year before when on his way from Kanab to the Moki Towns, for there is
no ford.
We were to wait here for our pack-train which the Major, on arriving at
Kanab, was to start back with rations and some extra horses. Our
altitude was 3170 feet, showing a total descent for the season of 2905
feet, 913 feet from Gunnison Crossing. Our work on the water for the
present was now over; we would pursue it with mule and pack instead of
with boats. As the 23d of October had arrived we were glad to avoid
daily saturation.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 19: These blisters were later called laccolites by G. K.
Gilbert after his careful study of the locality. See his _Geology of the
Henry Mountains_, published by the government.]
[Footnote 20: The illustration on page 43 of _The Romance of the
Colorado_ well shows the character of the Glen Canyon country, and that
on page 63 the nature of the pot-holes.]
[Footnote 21: We learned later that while we were working through
Cataract Canyon, Lieutenant George M. Wheeler, U. S. Engineers, was
coming up from Fort Mohave. After great labour he reached the mouth of
Diamond Creek, See _The Romance of the Colorado_, Chapter XII.]
[Footnote 22: For further description of the Navajo costume, see _The
North Americans of Yesterday_, by F. S. Dellenbaugh, pp. 148, 150.]
[Footnote 23: Like all the tribes of the region of that time, the
Navajos considered the Mormons a different people from the Americans.
They had been at war with the Mormons, from whom they stole horses and
cattle, and there had been some bloodshed. Old Jacob had induced them to
make peace, and this party now on its way to trade was the first to try
the experiment. Vanquished by our troops, a few years before, the
Navajos were very poor and anxious to acquire live stock and firearms,
for which they had blankets and other articles of their own make to
trade.]