Reconnoitring and Triangulating--A Pai Ute New Year's
Dance--The Major Goes to Salt Lake--Snowy Days on the
Kaibab--At Pipe Spring--Gold Hunters to the Colorado--Visits
to the Uinkaret Country--Craters and Lava--Finding the
Hurricane Ledge--An Interview with a Cougar--Back to Kanab.
New-year's day, 1872, passed with nothing more eventful than the return
of John Stewart in advance of the Major with the news that they had
succeeded in reaching the Colorado at the foot of Kanab Canyon. They had
given up the Kaibab direction because of snow which interfered with
their advance. He also said that Riley had found gold at the mouth of
the Kanab. The telegraph operator was so deeply impressed with this
statement that it was telegraphed as an item of news to Salt Lake. Work
on the base line went on daily by our topographical staff, but presently
it was turned over to a special gang under Captain Dodds, so that the
rest of us might be freed to carry on the triangulation. On Monday the
15th, Prof., Jones, Mac, and I started with some pack animals on a ten
days' reconnaissance trip over the Kaibab, first going to Kanab for some
supplies and taking dinner with Jacob at the house of his wife Louisa.
According to the Mormon custom, though it was not universal, Jacob had
several wives, I do not know how many. I met two, and he was besides
that "sealed" to one or two Pai Ute women. Sister Louisa was the one I
came to know best and she was a good woman. We had an excellent dinner
with rich cream for the coffee which was an unusual treat. In all Mormon
settlements the domestic animals were incorporated at once and they
received special care; butter, milk, and cheese were consequently
abundant; but in a "Gentile" frontier town all milk, if procurable at
all, was drawn from a sealed tin. The same was true of vegetables. The
empty tin was the chief decoration of such advance settlements, and with
the entire absence of any attempt at arrangement, at order, or to start
fruit or shade trees, or do any other sensible thing, the "Gentile"
frontier town was a ghastly hodge-podge of shacks in the midst of a sea
of refuse. As pioneers the Mormons were superior to any class I have
ever come in contact with, their idea being home-making and not skimming
the cream off the country with a six-shooter and a whiskey bottle.
Jacob's home was simple but it was comfortable. He was a poor man for he
did his work for the people with very slight compensation.
[Illustration: The Grand Canyon.
From Part Way down South Side above Bright Angel Creek.]
From Jacob's we proceeded to our old camp ground at Eight-Mile Spring
and there spent the night. Prof. had forgotten his sextant and rode back
to our main camp for it. We continued in the morning without him to a
place farther east called Navajo Well, a deep spring in a sort of
natural hole, somewhat aided by native hands, in the midst of some
sloping, barren rocks, the last spot where one would look for water. A
large flat stone covered the top, the water being dipped out at one side
where there was a depression leading down to it. A careless man, or one
not familiar with the country, might ride within a few yards of this
spring without noticing its existence. Prof. came along towards night
and the next day we went on eastward to the top of the Kaibab Plateau
and there put up a geodetic monument. Here we made a dry camp having
water for ourselves in a keg and some canteens, while the animals got
along very well as there was a little snow on the ground. Proceeding
from this place eastward we came to the edge of the plateau opposite
the largest of a series of four or five peculiar red sandstone peaks.
The Mormons had explored a waggon road across at this place and the
grades were easy. We followed the road and reached House Rock Valley
about ten miles north of House Rock Spring where we went to get water
and camp. We had started late and by the time we got down into the
valley darkness had fallen but a bright moon compensated for the absence
of daylight, enabling us to see plainly our landmarks. We jogged along
toward the spring and I sang _Oh the Lone Starry Hours, Give Me Love_,
when I was suddenly interrupted by old Thunderbolt's pack loosening.
Thunderbolt was a horse that waited for such an event with remarkable
docility and when it arrived he made the best of the opportunity to get
even with us for drawing the lash-rope so tight. Before I could dismount
and lay hands on him the pack slipped back over his rump which was the
signal he watched for. Joyously flinging his heels in the moonlit air,
jumping high off the ground the next instant, and then darting off into
the misty night with a clatter and a whirl he spread the contents of
that pack to all points of the compass. This revenge adequately
accomplished we were permitted to catch him. A long search was necessary
before we had gathered up all the things and replaced the pack on the
now meek and patient Thunderbolt, and half-past eight by the watch
arrived as we got to water and supper.
We put up another "station" back of House Rock Spring and spent a day
reconnoitring. On Sunday, January 21st, we went to Red Cliff and made a
camp under some cedars, as we wished to put a station on the highest
peak. The camp was a dry one, but we had the usual supply of water in
the keg and canteens, and as the temperature was very low we did not get
thirsty. There was an abundance of wood for the camp, but Mac and I
concluded we wanted more warmth and light, so we set fire to two large
cedars that stood alone, and they made a superb illumination, burning
all night. In the morning we got to the top of the cliff, and built a
monument, with a high pole and flag, to which to "sight" from other
geodetic points, while Prof. took observations for time and latitude.
When our work was finished we went back to House Rock Spring, arriving
just before sunset. In the morning Jones and I went across and climbed
the Kaibab, intending to put up a monument there, but we could find no
proper site and returned to camp. Prof. and Mac had been off in another
direction, but they got in just before supper-time. We had not
finished this meal when, night having come on, we heard through the
darkness sounds of some one approaching, and thirteen Navajos one after
the other came into the light of our fire, with their greeting of "Bueno
heh!" and camped just below us. Some were mounted, some were on foot.
The chief was Ashtishkal, whom we had met before at the Crossing of the
Fathers (El Vado). They were all friendly, and did not intrude upon us.
They were on their way north to trade with the Mormons, having come
across at the Paria. The night was very cold, and a heavy, dry snow
began to fall, so that in the morning when we arose we could see but a
short distance. The Navajos about sunrise stood silently in a circle
till at a signal they all sat down and began singing, continuing for
several minutes a low musical refrain, and then all rose to their feet
again. They left us early, with friendly demonstrations, and went on
their way towards Kanab, while we moved to another spring in a gulch
farther up the valley, where we made a tent out of a pair of blankets to
keep off the snow. During the stormy night our animals started to leave
us, travelling before the wind, but we suspected their intention and got
out and headed them back, much to their disgust, no doubt. Thursday,
January 25th, came bright and clear, but still extremely cold. Prof.
with Mac started across the Kaibab by the trail, while Jones and I went
farther north by the waggon road referred to, camping near the station
we had made on the way out. The next morning we did some work there, and
then went on to the Navajo Well, reaching it at sunset, where we watered
our stock and continued by moonlight through a piercing wind to
Eight-Mile Spring, which enabled us to reach our main camp in time for
dinner on Saturday the 27th. Prof. got back the evening before at 7.30,
having made another station on the Kaibab on the way over and travelled
twenty-five miles.
About a mile from Kanab the Kaibab band of Pai Utes were encamped, and
we had a good opportunity to visit them and study their ways.[28] The
Major was specially interested and made voluminous notes. They came to
the village and our camp a great deal. While they were dirty, they were
not more dishonest than white men, so far as I could learn. Their
wickiups, about seven feet high, were merely a lot of cedar boughs, set
around a three-quarter circle, forming a conical shelter, the opening
towards the south. In front they had their fire, with a mealing-stone or
two, and round about were their conical and other baskets, used for
collecting grass seeds, piñon nuts, and similar vegetable food, which in
addition to rabbits formed their principal subsistence. At certain times
they all went to the Kaibab deer-hunting. Their guns, where they had
any, were of the old muzzle-loading type, with outside hammers to fire
the caps. Many still used the bow-and-arrow, and some knew how to make
stone arrow-heads. We learned the process, which is not difficult. Their
clothing was, to some extent, deerskin, but mainly old clothes obtained
from the whites. They made a very warm robe out of rabbit skins, twisted
into a long rope and then sewed side to side into the desired size and
shape. But when we traded for one of these as a curiosity we placed it
beside a large ant hill for some days before bringing it into camp. They
obtained fire by the use of matches when they could get them, but
otherwise they used the single stick or "palm" drill. We went to the
camp one moonlight night, January 6th, to see a sort of New-Year's
dance. They had stripped a cedar tree of all branches but a small tuft
at the top, and around this the whole band formed a large circle,
dancing and singing. The dancing was the usual hippity-hop or "lope"
sideways, each holding hands with his or her neighbours. In the centre
stood a man, seeming to be the custodian of the songs and a poet
himself. He would first recite the piece, and then all would sing it,
circling round at the same time. We accepted their cordial invitation to
join in the ceremony, and had a lot of fun out of our efforts, which
greatly amused them too, our mistakes raising shouts of laughter. The
poet seemed to originate some of the songs, but they had others that
were handed down. One of these, which I learned later, was:
"Montee-ree-ai-ma, mo-quontee-kai-ma
Umpa-shu-shu-ra-ga-va
Umpa-shu-shu-ra-ga-va
Umpa-ga-va, shu-ra-ga-va
Montee-ree-ai-ma."
This, being translated, signifies that a long talk is enough to bore a
hole in a cliff; at least, that was the interpretation we obtained.
Another popular one was:
"Ca, shakum, poo kai
Ca, shakum poo kai
Ca, shakum tee kai
Ca, shakum tee kai,"
these lines being repeated like the others over and over and over again.
They were highly philosophical, for they explain that you must kill your
rabbit (shakum) before you eat him. I do not remember that they sang
these particular songs on that occasion, but they will serve as
examples.
On February 1st the Major left camp for Salt Lake with Mrs. Powell and
the baby. Jack went along to accompany them as far as Tokerville on the
Virgin River. Before leaving, the Major settled up with Beaman, who was
now to separate from the party. The Major intended to go to Washington
to ask Congress for another appropriation to continue the work of
exploration and map-making when we had finished that already planned. On
the 6th Clem and Bonnemort arrived from an expedition to make
photographs down the Kanab Canyon, where the Major had been with Riley
and Dodds. They had met with bad luck, and did not get a single
negative. The silver bath got out of order, and the horse bearing the
camera fell off a cliff and landed on top of the camera, which had been
tied on the outside of the pack, with a result that need not be
described. Bonnemort's time was now up; he wanted to go back to
prospecting, and we reluctantly said good-bye to him. On the 16th of
February, finding our central camp no longer practicable, we abandoned
it and operated in small parties from various nearby points, finally
returning again in three or four days to near the site of the old camp.
MacEntee then wanted to go to prospecting also, and he departed. He was
an interesting, companionable young man, educated at the University of
Michigan, seeking a fortune, and he was desirous of striking it rich.
Whether he ever did or not I have not learned.
While camped below Kanab, Clem and I in walking one day saw a place
where the creek which flowed on a level with the surroundings suddenly
plunged into a deep mud canyon. This canyon had been cut back from far
below by the undermining action of the falling water, and it was plain
to see that it would continue its retrogression till it eventually
reached the mouth of the great canyon several miles above, but I did not
dream that it could accomplish this work as rapidly as it actually did
years after. During a great flood it washed a canyon not only to Kanab
but for miles up the gorge, sweeping away at one master stroke hundreds
of acres of arable land and leaving a mud chasm forty feet deep. Had the
fall we examined been arranged then so that the water might glide down,
the fearful washout would not have occurred. There are thousands of
places in the West to-day that require treatment to conserve arable
land, and in time the task may be undertaken by the Government.
Cap's health being such that he deemed it inadvisable to continue work
in the field, he had severed his connection with the expedition, after
finishing the preliminary map of Green River, and was temporarily
settled in Kanab, where he had been for some time. On Wednesday,
February 21st, Prof., Mrs. Thompson, and I took supper with him in one
of the log houses at the fort, and on the 22d several of us accepted his
invitation to dinner, a sort of farewell, for on the following day we
started with our whole outfit for the Kaibab. We were extremely sorry to
lose Cap, with his generous spirit and cheery ways, but when one has
been punctured by a minie-ball he has to heed warnings. All day long we
travelled through sandy hills gradually rising toward the plateau, the
foot-hills of which we reached late in the afternoon. We had followed a
waggon road with our pack-train up to this point, but here we struck off
on a trail that was said to be a shorter way to the canyon we were
aiming for, and a little before sunset we came to the brink of a steep
slope, almost a cliff, where a picturesque, a romantic view opened
before us. Below stretched away to the south a narrow, deep, and sharply
defined valley or canyon one-eighth mile wide, the bottom of which
seemed perfectly flat. A light snow which had fallen the night before
whitened the sharp slopes, but from the valley bottom it had melted
away, leaving a clear line of demarkation on either side and producing
an extremely beautiful effect under the evening glow. Tall pine trees
accented the scene, which was one of the most inviting I had ever
beheld. One of our helpers from Kanab had been over the trail, and led
us down to a small but excellent spring, within a quarter of a mile of
which we camped, passing a most comfortable night.
Before we had finished slinging the last pack in the morning, a heavy
grey sky began to sift down thickly falling snowflakes gently as if not
wishing to give alarm. But when we were fairly under way this mildness
vanished, and the storm smote our caravan with fierce and blinding
gusts, amidst which progress was difficult. After four miles up the
valley through beautiful pine trees of great height, we came to a
deserted log cabin only half roofed over, and there we stopped to make
our temporary headquarters. The Stewarts of Kanab had started a saw-mill
at this place, but as yet the work had not gone very far. The snow
ceased by the time we had thrown off the packs, and we made ourselves as
comfortable as circumstances permitted. Prof. had a tent put up for Mrs.
Thompson, while some took possession of the half-roofed house, for by
keeping on the side where the board cover was they were slightly
sheltered. With two or three of the others I pitched a small tent. There
was plenty of fat pine, and rousing fires made the valley seem
habitable. A fine little brook swept full grown fifteen inches in
diameter from under a cliff two hundred feet above the valley bottom,
and there was no lack of good water. Our trouble was with the horses and
mules, for we had no grain for them, and if the snow got very deep they
would not be able to paw down to the bunch grass. The snow soon began
again, and all night it fell with aggravating facility. Sunday morning
opened as leaden and dark as a February day could be, and there was no
cessation of the showers of whiteness that were rapidly building up on
the ground a formidable barrier to our operations. As I was wearing
rather low brogans, having discarded top-boots as too close-fitting and
uncomfortable around camp, I now made for myself a pair of leggins out
of pieces of a common but heavy seamless sack. When these were buttoned
in place they answered perfectly to protect my legs from the snow. We
hoped Monday would begin the week with a clear sky, but we were
disappointed. We had to sally out to hunt horses, hoping at the same
time to come across a deer, but that hope was not realised. As I got far
from camp in the midst of the tall pines and the unbroken snow sheet, I
suddenly became aware of a whispering sound, which I could not at first
account for, as I did not believe in fairies. Standing perfectly still,
I perceived that it was produced by the friction of the snowflakes upon
the pine needles. It was a weird, ghost-like language which I had never
listened to before.
Prof. went up one thousand feet on the mountain and climbed a tree 125
feet high with a determination to see something in spite of the snow. He
caught a glimpse of the south wall of the Grand Canyon near Mt.
Trumbull, miles to the west. On Tuesday he started George Adair, one of
our Mormon assistants, back to Kanab for more rations, and directed
Jones and Captain Dodds to get ready to start the next day for the
south-east corner of the plateau, while Andy and I were to go to the
south-west corner. Wednesday, February 28th, came clear, with the snow
lying twelve inches on the level, but some of the horses were missing,
and the day was spent in hunting this wayward stock, so it was not till
Thursday afternoon that we got started. Our paths lying for a distance
in the same direction, we four travelled together along a divide on the
right or west of camp. It was slow work in the deep drifts, and we had
not made many miles when night came on. We went into camp where we were.
The horses bothered us by trying to go back searching for grass, and
nobody could blame them. Finally we tied the worst offender to a tree in
a bare place where he might pick up a few mouthfuls of food, and we
managed to sleep the rest of the night. The only sound I heard when I
woke up at one time was the satirical voice of an owl in the far
distance. It seemed to be saying very deliberately "poo-poo, poo-poo,"
and that did not sound respectful. The next morning was March 1st, and
it brought a fine sky, which would have put us quickly on the way, or
rather in motion toward our respective goals, as there was no road or
trail, but one of our animals which bore the mysterious name of Yawger,
and which was the pack-horse of Andy and me, could not be found. Jones
and Dodds went on, as they would probably soon have to separate from us
anyhow, while we took Yawger's track, and at last found him browsing
happily in a bare spot about a mile from our stopping place. It was two
o'clock by the time we started on, floundering through the drifts in the
trail of Jones and Dodds. Some drifts were so high it was all we could
do to wallow through them even after the others had in a measure broken
the way. After two hours of hard work in this line we came to the edge
of a wide gully, where the advance party had halted. The slope was
towards the south and the ground was somewhat bare, with good bunch
grass, where the other horses were feeding, while Jones and Dodds were
just descending from a tall pine tree. They declared nothing but snow
could be seen in all directions on the mountain and they were going
back. Besides it was impossible, they told me, to cross the gulch ahead.
I did not want to turn back till I was compelled to, and I appealed to
Andy as to whether or not he wanted to give up, not wishing to drag him
along unwillingly. With his characteristic nonchalance he said, "Go
ahead if you want to." Dodds had one of his own horses with him, and he
said he would bet me that horse I could not cross the gulch. I made a
trial, wading ahead of my horse, the pack animal following and Andy
driving from behind. When I got into the middle it was all I could do
to move, but I continued my efforts till suddenly the bottom seemed to
rise, and then in a few yards the going grew easier and we emerged
triumphantly on the other side, where we waved an adieu to the others.
By keeping close to the boles of the large pine trees, where the wind
had swept circular places, leaving the snow shallow, we were soon out of
sight of our late companions.
After two or three miles of tiring work the day began to fade, but we
reached a beautiful south slope where there was little snow, with a rich
crop of bunch grass just starting green under the vernal influence that
was a feast for the famished horses, the snow relieving their thirst.
While Andy the ever-faithful got supper I reconnoitred and made up my
mind that I could reach the locality I was trying for, by following a
ridge I saw ahead where the snow seemed moderate. We were up and off
early. The snow was deep but we got on quite rapidly and finally reached
the ridge, crossing two big gulches to get to it. At eleven o'clock we
were at the end of its summit and I could see a wide area to the west
and north. The point appeared to be one of several similar projections
though the one we were on was the most prominent. I selected a spot for
a monument where we dug a hole in the rocks and dirt, and then cutting a
tall slim pine and trimming it clean we hitched Yawger to it and made
him drag it to the hole, where by a combination of science and strength
we got it upright. While Andy, who had great strength, lifted and pushed
after we had together got it half way, I propped it with a strong pole
with a Y on the end, and in a few moments we saw the flag waving
triumphantly from its tip at least thirty feet above our heads. Around
its base we piled the rocks, which were exceptionally heavy, waist high,
first cutting a notch in the pine and placing therein a can containing a
record, and our "Point F" was finished. The rest of the day I spent in
triangulating to various other stations, and we went to bed under a
clear sky and a milder atmosphere. In the morning I completed my
triangulating work and by that time the snow had settled and melted so
that the back track was much easier than the outward march, enabling us
to get to headquarters at the spring before dark. I had been a little
afraid that a heavy snow would come on top of the large drifts which
would have held us prisoners for a day or two.
On Wednesday, March 6th, the whole party packed up and left the valley
by its narrow canyon outlet, a tributary of the Kanab Canyon. It began
eight hundred feet deep and continually increased. We called it Shinumo
Canyon because we found everywhere indications of the former presence
of that tribe. Snow fell at intervals and we were alternately frozen and
melted till we reached an altitude where the warmth was continuous and
the snow became rain. Grass fresh and green and shrubs with the feeling
of early spring surrounded us at the junction with Kanab Canyon where
the walls were twelve hundred feet high. A mile below we camped by a
lone cedar tree where there were "pockets" of rain-water in the rocks.
The next day our course was laid up Kanab Canyon through thick willows
that pulled the packs loose. One horse fell upside down in a gully, but
he was not hurt and we pried him out and went on, camping near a large
pool of intensely alkaline water. On the 8th going up a branch on the
left called Pipe Spring Wash we came out on the surface, very much as
one might reach a second floor by a staircase. This is a feature of the
country and as one goes northward he arrives on successive platforms, in
this manner passing through the several cliff ranges by means of
transverse gorges that usually begin in small "box" canyons and rapidly
deepen till they reach the full height of the cliff walls. At two
o'clock we came to Pipe Spring. A vacant stone house of one very large
room and a great fireplace was put at our disposal by Mr. Winsor the
proprietor, and it was occupied by the men while Prof. had a tent put up
for Mrs. Thompson. We found a party of miners here who had heard of the
gold discovery at the mouth of the Kanab on the Colorado and were
heading that way to reap the first-fruits. They were soon followed by
hundreds more, making a steady stream down the narrow Kanab and out
again for some time, for on reaching the river the limited opportunity
to do any mining was at once apparent and they immediately took the back
track swearing vengeance on the originator of the story.
For protection against raiders Mr. Winsor was building a solid double
house of blocks of sandstone, making walls three feet thick. The two
buildings were placed about twenty feet apart, thus forming an interior
court the length of the houses, protected at the ends by high walls and
heavy gates. No windows opened on the exterior, but there were plenty of
loopholes commanding every approach. A fine large spring was conducted
subterraneously into the corner of one of the buildings and out again,
insuring plenty of water in case of a siege. Brigham Young was part
owner of this establishment, and it was one of the most effective places
of defence on a small scale, that I have ever seen. It was never needed
so far as I have heard, and even at the time I marvelled that it should
be so elaborately prepared--far beyond anything else in the whole
country. The cut opposite shows this fort as it was in 1903. Clem here
told Prof. he did not care to stay with us any longer. Ill success with
his photographs had discouraged him, but Prof. persuaded him to remain
for a time.
Until March 21st we operated around Pipe Spring triangulating and
recording the topography, and other data, when we packed our animals
again and laid our course across the open country towards a range of
blue mountains seen in the south-west. One of these had been named after
Senator Trumbull by the Major in the autumn of 1870. They were the home
of the Uinkarets and we called the whole group by that name, discarding
North Side Mountains, the name Ives had given when he sighted them in
1858 from far to the south. Adjoining the Uinkaret region on the west
was the Shewits territory where the Howlands and Dunn were killed.
Travelling across the dry plains we came to a well defined trail about
sunset and followed it hoping that it would lead to water. We were not
disappointed for it took us to a pool of rain-water in a little gulley
at the foot of some low hills. A band of wild horses roamed the plain
and as we had been told about a pool called the Wild Band Pocket, we had
no doubt this was the place. There was no wood anywhere, but a diligent
search produced enough small brush to cook by, though Andy had a hard
time of it. Clem's horse ran away from him and lost his gun, so he
remained behind at Pipe Spring to hunt for the weapon.
[Illustration: Winsor Castle, the Defensive House at Pipe Springs.
Photograph by H. Arthur Pomroy, 1903.]
[Illustration: Little Zion Valley or the Mookoontoweap, Upper Virgin
River.
Photograph by H. Arthur Pomroy, 1903.]
The next day we travelled on over hilly country, following a moccasin
trail, with here and there cedar groves as we approached nearer to the
mountains. On the edge of night traces of water were found in a gulch
near the foot of Trumbull, and while Jack and a new member of our force,
Will Johnson of Kanab, dug for more, Prof., Jones, and I scoured the
vicinity in search of a spring or pocket, but though we found many old
wickiups there was no water. The Uinkarets had evidently camped here in
wet weather. When we returned we were told that the little trace of
water in the gulch had disappeared completely after the digging, a sad
development which was accepted by all but one old white horse which
stood on the edge of the hole for an hour or more patiently waiting. Our
kegs and canteens provided enough to make bread which we ate with
sorghum, and as early as possible in the morning we pushed on without
breakfast, three men scouting ahead to discover the pool where the Major
in the autumn of 1870 had camped. Prof. finally found it, a large pool
of about a hundred barrels of clear, clean water, in a lava gulch,
surrounded by cedar and piñon trees. Andy then gave us breakfast and
dinner at the same time, eleven o'clock. Another new member of our party
was Beaman's successor, Fennemore, from Salt Lake, who had joined us at
Pipe Spring on March 19th, and he was prepared to photograph the region.
We reconnoitred the neighbourhood during the afternoon, and the next
morning Jones and I rode in one direction around Mount Trumbull, while
Prof. and Captain Dodds rode the other way, to ascertain the lay of the
land, and especially to find a ranch which some St. George men had
started in this locality. Jones and I met Whitmore, the proprietor of
the ranch, and a friend of his, who informed us the ranch was six miles
farther on. We concluded not to go to it, but when Prof. and Captain
Dodds got in after dark they told us they had gone the whole way. The
following day, Monday March 25th, all the party except Andy and a new
member, Alf Young of Kanab, climbed to the summit of Mount Trumbull,
finding the ascent very gradual and easy and taking the horses to the
top, which was 2440 feet above the pool and 8650 above sea level,
commanding a magnificent view in every direction, as far to the
south-east as Mount San Francisco. Jones, Jack, Fennemore, and I
remained there all night while the rest returned to camp. Jones and I
wanted to do some topographical work and get sights to some of our
other stations, and Fennemore, assisted by Jack, wanted pictures.
Descending the opposite side the next day we went to a spring in an oak
grove which Prof. had seen, where the others were already encamped. On
the 27th, Prof. and I climbed a high cinder peak, of which there were
many, to get a view, and then went to Whitmore's Ranch, where we had a
talk with him to get points on the region. He told us he had followed a
trail to the Colorado, about twelve miles, to what he called the Ute
Crossing. If I remember correctly he had taken a horse down at that
point. The next day Johnson and I put a signal flag on one of the high
mountains, afterwards named Logan, forming Signal Station Number 7. This
was a volcanic district and there were many old craters. Near the Oak
Spring camp was an extensive sheet of lava, seeming to have cooled but a
year or two before. Its surface was all fractured, but there were no
trees on its lower extremity and where it had flowed around a hill its
recent plasticity was exceedingly distinct. It had come from a crater,
about five hundred feet high, two miles north. This had once been a cone
but it was now disrupted, the lava having burst through to the north and
to the south, leaving two sections standing, the stream to the south
being one quarter mile wide and a mile and a half long, that on the
north one mile wide and about the same in length. The depth of these
streams was not far from thirty feet, and in spite of the exceedingly
rugged surface the southern stream was marked by deeply worn trails
running to and from a small spring situated in the middle of it. Beside
this spring one of the men from the ranch had found a human skeleton,
covered with fragments of lava, with the decayed remains of a wicker
water-jug between the ribs, marking some unrecorded tragedy. We
estimated that less than three hundred years had passed since the last
outburst from the crater. As there were pine trees a hundred years old
on the lava where it was more disintegrated near the point of outpour,
the age of the flow could not have been less than that.
Friday the 29th being cloudy and stormy nothing in the line of geodetic
work was done and we could only rest in camp. Dodds and Jones who had
gone to explore a way to the Grand Canyon came in reporting success.
Saturday morning Jones and Fennemore started for Kanab to bring out more
rations and meet us either at Fort Pierce or at Berry's Spring near St.
George, while Prof. with Dodds and Johnson went to try to follow the
trail Whitmore had told about to the river, but after four miles they
gave it up and climbed by a side trail to the plateau again. They made a
dry camp and the next day went on till they found water enough for the
horses in some pools on the rocks, and here, leaving the others to
continue the reconnaissance, Prof. came back to our camp, arriving in a
snow-storm. It had been snowing with us at intervals all day. The next
day was April first, and with it came still heavier snow. We planned to
move down to the edge of the Grand Canyon, and Jack and Andy started as
Jack wished to make some photographs there, but the snow continuing we
concluded to wait till another day. When that came the snow was quite
deep on the ground and was still falling hard, which it continued to do
most of the time, preventing us from moving. Fennemore had brought with
him a copy of _The Count of Monte Cristo_, which I had never read, and
in its pages I soon became oblivious to the surroundings. The snow kept
on the next day also and all the men out returned to the main camp,
Dodds and Johnson having reached the river bank. When another morning
dawned and showed no cessation of the aggravating storm, with the snow
fifteen inches on the level, Prof. said he would pack up Friday the 5th
and get down to lower country around St. George. The day came clear and
sunny and the snow began to melt. We headed for the Pine Valley
Mountains back of St. George and made about twenty miles with no snow
after the first six, the altitude dropping to where the temperature was
milder. Prof. had inquired at the ranch about trails, but there were so
many cattle trails that we did not get on the right one. We made a dry
camp and early the following morning went on, not being able to see any
landmarks because of the clouds. Half an hour after starting a thick
snow-storm set in but we kept going, till in about a mile and a half the
world seemed suddenly to end. Above, below, and around us was a great
blank whiteness. Dismounting and cautiously advancing on foot we
discovered that we were on the brink of a very high cliff. As we did not
know which way to turn we threw off the packs and stopped where we were.
Spreading out blankets we scraped the snow from them into the kettles to
melt for water. Then by holding a blanket up over Andy by the four
corners he was able, with some chips he had previously chopped out of
the side of a dead pine, to start a fire, by which he proceeded to cook
dinner.
When the snow fell less heavily we could peer down and then saw that the
cliff was continuous in both directions. By half-past two, with our kegs
and canteens filled with the snow water, we were again on the way
following along to find a place to go down, but we saw none that seemed
practicable, and at last, having made altogether five miles, we halted
for the night in a grove of cedars, where we had a good fire and were
comfortable though our rations were now growing scarce. Snow at
intervals continued all day up to bedtime. The next day was Sunday. We
travelled twenty miles along the line of cliffs and camped near a canyon
in which we found pools of good water. We saw an antelope during the day
but could not get it. Andy baked up the last of our flour for supper and
put on a pot of beans and one of dried peaches to cook for breakfast.
The beans were edible in the morning and we disposed of them and the
peaches and went on our way. After a day of many ups and downs we
arrived about two o'clock at a ranch called Gould's or Workman's, where
we bought five dollars worth of corn-meal and milk. We were now on what
the inhabitants of the region called Hurricane Hill, and from this we
applied the name Hurricane Ledge to the long line of sharp cliffs we had
followed, which begin at the Virgin River and extend, almost unbroken
and eight hundred to a thousand feet high, south to the Grand Canyon,
forming the western boundary of the Uinkaret Plateau. From Gould's we
had a waggon road and following it we were led to the brink of the
Hurricane Ledge, where a road had been constructed to the bottom. Before
descending we took a final look at the enchanting view opening away to
the north and north-west. At our feet was the Virgin Valley with the
green fields of Tokerville, while beyond rose magnificent cliffs
culminating to the north-west in the giant buttes and precipices of the
Mookoontoweap, or, as the Mormons call it, Little Zion Valley. Topping
the whole sweep of magnificent kaleidoscopic topography were the Pine
Valley Mountains and the lofty cliffs of the Colob and Markargunt
plateaus. It has ever since been my opinion that few outlooks in all
the world are superior for colour and form to that stretching north from
the northern part of the Hurricane Ledge.[29]
Descending to the valley we arrived just at dusk at Berry's Spring,
where our waggon under the direction of Jones had come with supplies.
The spring was an excellent one and the rivulet flowing away from it was
bordered with large wild-rose bushes. Though the waggon and supplies
were there Jones was not, for we had expected to come in from farther
west past Fort Pierce, and he had gone on to that place to tell us where
he had decided to camp. Clem had found his gun and come out with them,
the others of the party being Fennemore and George Adair. Jones came
back the next day and prepared to start with Andy and Johnson for
several days' work in the Pine Valley Mountains, while Jack, Captain
Dodds, Fennemore, and I were to return to the Uinkaret region to
complete certain work there. Some goods to be distributed to the natives
from the Indian Bureau arrived at St. George and Prof. went there with
George Adair to have a talk with the Indians to be found, and distribute
goods. We had seen no Indians at all in the Uinkaret region. He
discovered the Shewits who came in to be afraid of us, thinking we
wanted to kill them, but they were willing to accept anything they could
get in the line of presents. Hardly any would acknowledge themselves to
be either Uinkarets or Shewits.
On April 12th, according to the plan, Jack, Dodds, Fennemore, and I
started back to the Uinkaret Mountains, following the trail we had tried
to strike coming out. It led past a place called Fort Pierce, a small
stone building the settlers had formerly used as an advance post against
the Shewits and Uinkarets. There we spent the night, and the next day
after some trouble we got on the right trail, and on Monday, the 15th of
April, we again reached what we had called Oak Spring, near Mount
Trumbull, and the southern flow of lava already described. The following
day Jack and Fennemore went down to the brink of the Grand Canyon, at
the foot of a sort of valley the Uinkarets called Toroweap, while with
Dodds I climbed the peak later named after Senator Logan, and attempted
some triangulation, but the air was so murky I could not get my sights
and had to return for them the next morning. The day after that we
climbed Mount Trumbull, and I triangulated from there. One of my sights
from Logan was to a conical butte near which we had camped as we came
out, and near which we had found a large ant-hill covered with small,
perfect quartz crystals that sparkled in the sun like diamonds. When I
sighted to this butte, for want of a better name, I recorded it
temporarily as Diamond Butte, remembering the crystals, and the name
became fixed, which shows how unintentionally names are sometimes
bestowed. We examined the lava flows and the crater again, and I made a
sketch in pencil from another point of view from one I had made during
our former sojourn. Then we joined Jack and Fennemore, who had been
taking negatives at the canyon edge. On the 20th Dodds and I climbed
down the cliffs about three thousand feet to the water at a rapid called
Lava Falls. Across the river we could see a very large spring, but of
course we could not get over to it. Returning to Oak Spring, we spent
there another night, and in the morning, while the others started for
headquarters, I rode around to the ranch to inquire about a spring I had
heard something about existing on the St. George trail; but the solitary
man I found there, who came out of the woods in response to my shout, a
walking arsenal, did not know anything concerning it. After drinking a
quart or two of milk, which he kindly offered me, I rode on to join my
companions by continuing around the mountain, "running in" the trail as
I went with a prismatic compass. Presently I saw a cougar sitting
upright behind a big log, calmly staring at me, so I dismounted and sent
a Winchester bullet in his direction. My mule was highly nervous about
firearms, and having to restrain her antics by putting my arm through
the bridle rein, her snorting skittishness both at the rifle and the
cougar disturbed my aim and my shot went a trifle under. The bullet
seemed to clip the log, but if it hit the cougar the effect was not what
I expected, for with a rush like a sky-rocket the animal disappeared in
the top of the pine tree overhead, and I could see nothing more of it
though I rode about looking for it. Not wishing to dally here, I spurred
on to overtake my party, but in trying a short cut I passed beyond them,
as they had by that time halted in some cedars for lunch. The man at
the ranch had told me that Whitmore was due to arrive that day, and
having missed a part of the trail by the short cut, I could not judge by
the tracks as to where my party were, and not caring to waste time, I
rode on and on till I had gone so far I did not want to turn back.
Evening came, but there was a good moon, and I did not stop till eight
o'clock. The night was cold; the plain was barren and bleak. I had no
coat, but with the saddle blanket and a handful of dead brush, which I
burned by installments, I managed to warm myself enough to sleep by
short intervals. I was on my feet with the dawn, but my mule was nowhere
to be seen, though I had hoppled her well with my bridle reins. I
tracked the mule about five miles to a muddy place where there had been
water, caught her, and rode back to my saddle, when I continued my
journey, running in the trail as I went. I became pretty thirsty and
hungry, but the only thing for me to do was to continue to our main
camp. Had I gone back I might have missed our men again, for there had
been some talk about a short-cut trail, and I feared they might try it.
At two o'clock I reached Black Rock Canyon, where there was a
water-pocket full of warm and dirty water, but both the mule and I took
a drink and I rode on, passing Fort Pierce at sunset. Off on my right I
perceived ten or twelve Shewits Indians on foot travelling rapidly along
in Indian file, and as the darkness fell and I had to go through some
wooded gulches I confess I was a little uncomfortable and kept my rifle
in readiness; but I was not molested and reached camp about ten o'clock,
where I ate a large piece of bread with molasses, after a good drink of
water, and went to bed. The others arrived the following afternoon. I
had left notes for them by the trail in cleft-sticks, so they knew that
I was ahead. This was the longest trip I ever made without water or
food.
We prepared to start out again in different directions; one party was to
go to the Pine Valley Mountains, another to Pipe Spring and the mouth of
the Paria to look after our property there, a third up the Virgin Valley
for photographs, and a fourth to St. George and the Virgin range of
mountains south-west of that town. Prof. headed this last party, and he
took me as his topographical assistant. April 27th we rode into St.
George, a town I was much interested to see. I found a very pretty,
neat, well-ordered little city of about fifteen hundred population, with
a good schoolhouse, a stone tabernacle with a spire, and a court house,
the water running in ditches along the streets for irrigating purposes
as well as for drinking. About a mile below the town we camped, and we
could hear the band playing a serenade to one of the officials who was
to start the next day on a long journey. After several days of feeling
our way about in the rugged and dry region below St. George, we finally
discovered a good water-pocket, from which Prof. and I made a long, hard
ride and climb, and about sunset camped at the base of what is now
called Mount Bangs, the highest peak of the Virgin Mountains, for which
we were aiming. The next day we climbed an additional eleven hundred
feet to its summit, and completed our work in time by swift riding to
get to our main camp at the water-pocket by half-past six.
It was an easy trip back to St. George, following an old trail, and then
we made our way to Kanab again, where we put all our notes in shape and
fitted out for the journey to the mouth of the Dirty Devil across the
unknown country.
[Illustration: In the Unknown Country.
Photograph by J. K. Hillers, 1872.]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 28: For the linguistic classification of stocks and tribes of
the United States, see Appendix, _The North Americans of Yesterday_, by
F. S. Dellenbaugh.]
[Footnote 29: For a description of Little Zion Valley, see "A New Valley
of Wonders," by F. S. Dellenbaugh, _Scribner's Magazine_, January,
1904.]