A Company of Seven.--The _Nellie Powell_ Abandoned.--Into
Marble Canyon.--Vasey's Paradise.--A Furious Descent to the
Little Colorado.--A Mighty Fall in the Dismal Granite
Gorge.--Caught in a Trap.--Upside Down.--A Deep Plunge and a
Predicament.--At the Mouth of the Kanab.
We now missed Steward, Cap, and Beaman more than ever, for we had been
unable to get anyone to take their places. The fact was our prospective
voyage through Marble and Grand canyons was considered almost a forlorn
hope and nobody cared to take the risk. The plan had been to give me the
steering of the _Cañonita_, but now with three boats and only seven to
man them it was plain that one must be abandoned. An examination of them
all showed that the _Nellie Powell_ was in the poorest condition and she
was chosen for the sacrifice. She was put back in her shelter being
afterwards used by Lee for a desultory ferry business, that developed.
About ten days before our arrival, the _Dean_ had been discovered by a
newspaper man named J. H. Beadle, and used to cross to the north side
where he left her. This was how she happened to be there when we came.
Beadle had denounced Lee and the Mormons in print and tried to conceal
his identity by assuming the name of Hanson, a plan frustrated by his
having some clothes, marked with his own name, laundered by Sister
Emma. Lee was only amused by the incident. The _Dean_ was to be manned
by the same crew as before; Jones to steer, Jack at the after oars, I at
the forward pair, and the Major in his usual place on the middle deck.
The _Cañonita_ was to have Prof. as steersman, Andy at the stroke oars,
and Clem in the bow, Clem having gotten all over his inclination to
leave and being determined now to see the end of the voyage before he
departed.
The same day that the Major and his party arrived, Jack and I, with
Jones steering, tried the _Dean_ by taking Mrs. Thompson, Professor
DeMotte, and Lyman Hamblin up the river so that they might see what a
canyon was like from a boat. Mrs. Thompson was so enthusiastic that she
declared she wanted to accompany us. Prof. took her as passenger on the
_Cañonita_ about half-past four on Wednesday, August 14th, when we had
completed the sacking and packing of provisions, and with both boats ran
down through a small rapid or two about a mile and a half, where we
camped at the mouth of a little canyon down which the waggon-road came.
Mrs. Thompson enjoyed the exhilaration of descending the swift rushing
water and still thought it attractive. I went to Lee's and brought down
the Major's arm-chair for our boat, and saw Fennemore who was very sick.
We made our final preparations at this point, and I spent most of
Thursday morning helping the Major get his papers in order so that if we
did not appear again his affairs could be readily settled. This required
considerable writing, which I did, for the Major wrote slowly with his
left hand, the only one he had. We dined with Lee, having the first
watermelon of the season for dessert. Lee was most cordial and we could
not have asked better treatment than he gave us the whole time we were
at Lonely Dell. In the afternoon our land outfit left for Kanab and we
said a last good-bye to the men, who looked as if they never expected to
see us again. Only the "Tirtaan Aigles" remained, and there were but
seven of these now. The next day we put the finishing touches on the
boats, and while we were doing this our late fellow voyageur Beaman, and
a companion named Carleton, passed on their way to the Moki Towns where
Beaman wanted to make photographs. All being ready the next day,
Saturday, August 17th, we pushed out on the mighty Colorado about nine
o'clock and by noon ran into Marble Canyon, nearly five miles, passing
one small rapid and another of considerable size on a river about one
hundred feet wide and extremely swift, with straight walls rapidly
increasing from the fifty feet or so at the Paria. Marble Canyon while
differing in name is but the upper continuation of the Grand Canyon,
there being no line of demarkation other than a change in geological
structure and the entrance of the canyon of the Little Colorado. The
combined length of the two divisions is 283 miles and the declivity is
very great. The altitude of the mouth of the Paria is 3170 feet, while
the Grand Wash at the end of the Grand Canyon is 840 feet, leaving a
descent of 2330 feet still before us.
At our dinner camp, which was on a talus on the left, the walls were
about 500 feet and quite precipitous, but I was able to climb out on the
right to get a view of the surroundings. After dinner we went on in our
usual order, our boat the _Dean_ in advance and the _Cañonita_
following. The photographing now devolved entirely on Jack and Clem;
Andy as usual ran the culinary branch of the expedition, Jones and Prof.
meandered the river. We had not gone far after dinner before we were
close upon a bad-looking rapid, a drop of about eighteen feet in a
distance of 225, which we concluded to defeat by means of a portage on
the right-hand bank. As we knew exactly what to do no time was wasted
and we were soon below, sweeping on with a stiff current which brought
us, in about ten miles from our morning start and five from the noon
halt, to a far worse rapid than the last, a fall of twenty-five feet in
four or five hundred, with very straight walls six hundred feet high on
both sides. The Major concluded to leave the passage of it till the next
day, and we went into camp at the head. This was the rapid where
disaster fell on the miners, ten in number, who in the spring had stolen
a lot of our things at the Paria and started down prospecting on a raft.
They saved their lives but not another thing, and after a great deal of
hard work they succeeded by means of driftwood ladders in climbing to
the top of the walls and made their way to the settlement. This is now
called Soap Creek Rapid, being at the mouth of the canyon by which the
little stream of that name reaches the river,--a little stream which at
times is a mighty torrent. In a small rapid following or in the final
portion of this, I believe, is the place where Frank M. Brown, leader of
the Denver, Colorado Canyon, and Pacific Railway Survey, was drowned in
1889.
We began work on Sunday, August 18th, by making the portage and had no
trouble of any kind, Jack and Clem making some photographs before we
finally said good-bye to the place. Continuing on our way we found the
river very narrow, not over seventy-five feet in many places and ranging
from that to two hundred, with frequent whirlpools strong enough to
swing our boats entirely around. Before dinner-time we had put five
large rapids behind, and then we halted under a ledge on the left a
short distance above a very ugly and difficult prospect. There was an
exceedingly heavy descent and a soft sandstone being at the river margin
it was worn away, giving little chance for a footing by which to make a
portage. The Major and Prof. decided that we could run it safely, and
after dinner we shot into it, both boats going through in fine style.
Just below was another smaller one that was vanquished easily, and we
went swiftly on down the swirling, booming current. Rain fell at
intervals to continue our saturation, and with four more rapids, all of
which we ran, one having quite a heavy fall, there was little chance for
us to dry out. At one point we passed an enormous rock which had dropped
from the cliffs overhead and almost blocked the whole river. Then we
arrived at a huge rapid whose angry tones cried so distinctly, "No
running through here," that we did not hesitate but began a let down
forthwith, and when that was accomplished we camped at the foot of it
for the night, having come eleven and three-eighths miles during the
day. The rapid was extremely noisy and the roaring reverberated back and
forth from cliff to cliff as it ascended to the top, 1800 feet, to
escape into the larger air. The walls had two or three terraces and were
not over three quarters of a mile apart at the summit, the cliff
portions being nearly or quite perpendicular. The rocks, of all sizes,
which were legion at each rapid, were frequently dovetailed into each
other by the action of the current and so neatly joined in a serrated
line that they were practically one.
[Illustration: Thompson
Marble Canyon.
Photograph by J. K. Hillers, 1872.]
The rapidity with which the water went down and the walls went up as we
cut into the plateau gave a vivid impression of descending into the very
bowels of the earth, and this impression seemed daily to intensify. On
Monday, August 19th, the same conditions prevailed, the walls being of
marble mostly vertical from the water's edge for about seven hundred
feet, and then rising by four terraces to two thousand feet, all stained
red by the disintegration of iron-stained rocks overhead though the
marble is a grey colour. We only made four and one-quarter miles and
established Camp 90 on the left, just below a big rapid and in sight of
another, with a record for the whole day of four rapids run, three
passed by let-downs, and one overcome by a portage. The next day we did
not accomplish a much greater distance, only about nine miles, but we
were highly successful in our encounters with the enemy, running no less
than twelve big rapids and making a portage at another to round out the
dozen on the baker's proverbial basis. The average width of the canyon
at the top was about one and a quarter miles, while the breadth of the
water itself plunging along the bottom was not more than 125 feet, and
the total height of wall was 2500 feet. We had marble at the river
margin most of the day, a greyish crystalline rock fluted
multitudinously in places by the action of high water and sometimes
polished like glass. While this was a grey rock the entire effect of the
canyon, for the reason stated above, was red. On the right bank we made
our camp on some sand at the mouth of a gulch, and immediately put on
our dry clothes from the boats. Not far below on the same side was what
appeared to be a vast ruined tower. Around the indentations which
answered for crumbling windows bunches of mosses and ferns were draped,
while from the side, about one hundred feet up from the river, clear
springs broke forth to dash down amidst verdure in silvery skeins. The
whole affair formed a striking and unusual picture, the only green that
so far had been visible in the canyon landscape, for the walls from
brink to river were absolutely barren of trees or any apparent
vegetation. On the former trip the Major had named the place after a
botanist friend of his, Vasey's (Vaysey) Paradise, and this was now
recorded in our notes. All day long we had seen in the magnificent walls
besides caverns and galleries resemblances to every form of
architectural design, turrets, forts, balconies, castles, and a thousand
strange and fantastic suggestions from the dark tower against which
Childe Roland with his slug-horn blew defiance, to the airy structures
evolved by the wonderful lamp of Aladdin.
Starting down again on Wednesday morning we ran past the Paradise and
heard a little bird singing there amidst the spray and mosses, a
delicate note seeming out of place amidst such gigantic desolation. Only
the boom of great cannon or the tone of some enormous organ pipe would
be correct with the surroundings. The walls at the water's edge were
vertical for long distances up to eight hundred feet, and being now in
all about three thousand feet and not a great ways apart, the outlook
ahead was something almost overpowering in its deep suggestion of
mysterious and untold realms to come. On the first voyage it would have
been easy to persuade oneself that the river was soon to become
subterranean, but the Major having solved the enigma, we could look with
indifference on the threatening prospect. Yet the walls nevertheless
seemed to have a determination to close together overhead as we looked
down the descending waters before us, with cliff mounting on cliff and
the distance from one to the other appearing so very small. Deep and
sombre were the shadows at the bends, and the imagination needed no spur
to picture there rapids, falls, cataracts, of giant proportions. We made
nearly eleven miles and ran ten very big rapids, meeting with no
accident, though one was particularly violent and filled us half full of
water in the fierce breakers. The stage of water was exactly right for
this stretch; a lower stage would certainly have given us far more
trouble. Our stop for the night, Camp 92, was made on a wide sandbank on
the left, with some mesquite growing nearby, our first acquaintance with
this tree on the river. We now were getting on so well and were so
comfortable that we felt quite happy and Jack as usual entertained us
with several songs. The next day, Thursday the 22d, Jack and Clem took
some photographs in the morning and I hunted fossils for the Major in
the limestone shales which had run up under the marble. By nine o'clock
we were packed up again in our usual good form, everything in the rubber
sacks, hatches firmly battened down, life-preservers ready, and we set
forth for another day's battle. There were numerous large rapids and the
impetuous river, turbid and grim, rushed down with a continuity that
kept us alert every instant. Though we descended with terrific velocity,
nothing gave us any particular trouble before dinner, which we ate in
the shade of a mesquite on the right at the mouth of a couple of giant
gulches. Here we discovered a large patch of cacti loaded with the red
prickly pears or cactus apples, as we called them. They were
ripe,--seeming to me to be half way between a fig and a tomato,--and
very welcome for dessert, as we had eaten no fresh fruit since a
watermelon brought along as far as the first noon camp. All the
vegetation was different from that of the upper canyons and of a kind
indicating a hotter climate; cacti, yucca, etc. In the afternoon the
walls became greater, the river ran swifter, the descent seemed almost
without a break, for rapid followed rapid in such quick succession that
it was next to impossible to separate them one from another. At times we
could barely maintain control of the boats so powerful and uninterrupted
was the turbulent sweep of the great narrow flood. At one place as we
were being hurled along at a tremendous speed we suddenly perceived
immediately ahead of us and in such a position that we could not avoid
dashing into it, a fearful commotion of the waters, indicating many
large rocks near the surface. The Major stood on the middle deck, his
life-preserver in place, and holding by his left hand to the arm of the
well secured chair to prevent being thrown off by the lurching of the
boat, peered into the approaching maelstrom. It looked to him like the
end for us and he exclaimed calmly, "By God, boys, we're gone!" With
terrific impetus we sped into the seething, boiling turmoil, expecting
to feel a crash and to have the _Dean_ crumble beneath us, but instead
of that unfortunate result she shot through smoothly without a scratch,
the rocks being deeper than appeared by the disturbance on the surface.
We had no time to think over this agreeable delivery, for on came the
rapids or rather other rough portions of the unending declivity
requiring instant and continuous attention, the Major rapidly giving the
orders, Left, right, hard on the right, steady, hard on the left, _hard
on the left_, h-a-r-d on the left, pull away strong, etc.,
Jones aiding our oars by his long steering sweep. Rowing for progress
was unnecessary; the oars were required only for steering or for pulling
as fast as we could to avoid some bad place.
At the same time the walls constantly gained height as the torrent cut
down its bed till both together, with the rapidity of our movement,
fairly made one dizzy. In turning a bend we saw back through a gulch the
summit of the Kaibab's huge cliffs, the total height above our heads
being over five thousand feet; a sublime vista. The immediate walls of
Marble Canyon were here about 3500 feet, not all vertical but rising in
buttresses, terraces, and perpendicular faces, while immediately at the
river they were now generally flanked by talus or broken ledges giving
ample footing, as seen in the illustration opposite page 219. Words are
not adequate to describe this particular day in Marble Canyon; it must
be experienced to be appreciated and I will not strive further to convey
my impressions. As the sun sank to the western edge of the outer world
we were rushing down a long straight stretch of canyon, and the colossal
precipices looming on all sides, as well as dead ahead across our
pathway, positively appeared about to overwhelm the entire river by
their ponderous magnificence, burnished at their summits by the dying
sun. On, down the headlong flood our faithful boats carried us to the
gloom that seemed to be the termination of all except subterranean
progress, but at the very bottom of this course there was a bend to the
west, and we found ourselves at the mouth of a deep side canyon coming
in from the east, with a small stream flowing into the big river. This
was the mouth of the Little Colorado and the end at last of Marble
Canyon, one of the straightest, deepest, narrowest, and most majestic
chasms of the whole long series. It also had more wall rising vertically
from the water's edge than any other canyon we had encountered.
Our distance for the day was eighteen miles with eighteen rapids, one
nearly three miles long and all following each other so closely they
were well-nigh continuous. We ran seventeen and made one let-down. It
was a glorious day and a fitting preparation for our entrance into the
next stupendous canyon which the Major styled the "Sockdologer of the
World," the now famous Grand Canyon.[32] Our altitude was 2690 feet,
giving a descent in the sixty-five and one-half miles of Marble Canyon
of 480 feet, leaving 1850 feet still to be overcome before we could
reach the mouth of the Grand Wash and the end of the Grand Canyon. I
counted sixty-three rapids in Marble Canyon, Prof. sixty-nine. We made
four portages and let down by line six times.
[Illustration: Canyon of the Little Colorado.
Photograph by C. Barthelmess.]
Our Camp 93 was on the left bank of the Little Colorado, and there we
remained for Friday, August 23d, to reconnoitre the neighbourhood, and
to give Prof. an opportunity to get the latitude and longitude. The
Little Colorado was a red stream about sixty feet wide and four or five
deep, salty and impossible to drink. The Great Colorado was also muddy
and not altogether palatable, for one's hand dipped in and allowed to
dry became encrusted with sediment; but the water otherwise was pure.
The river had been rapidly rising for several days and was still coming
up so that we were likely to have in the Grand Canyon more water than we
required. I climbed up the wall on the north side of the Little Colorado
thinking I might be able to reach the summit, but when about half-way up
I met vast and vertical heights that were impossible and returned to
camp. The next morning, Saturday, August 24th, we packed up and entered
the Grand Canyon proper on an easy river, making about five miles in
half an hour and putting behind six rapids all small, camping at the
head of one that was more threatening. Here a little creek came in from
the right, or west, near camp. The canyon was wider than above, and we
could see the summits around that were six thousand feet above the
river, but some miles back. In the morning I made a geological sketch,
and in the afternoon I climbed a high peak and put in some of the
topography. The next morning we crossed the river to examine a large
igneous butte where we found a small vein of copper ore, and after
dinner Prof. and I climbed a couple of peaks and did some triangulating.
Monday the 26th found us still at Camp 94 to further investigate the
surroundings, and the Major, Prof., Jones, and I climbed up on the north
about 2600 feet in order to get a better idea of the several valleys
which here seemed to compose the bottom of the great chasm, and did not
reach camp till after dark. Everything now developed on a still larger
and grander scale; we saw before us an enormous gorge, very wide at the
top, which could engulf an ordinary mountain range and lose it within
its vast depths and ramifications. Multitudinous lofty mesas, buttes,
and pinnacles began to appear, each a mighty mountain in itself, but
more or less overwhelmed by the greater grandeur of the Cyclopean
environment.
Tuesday, August 27th, after Prof. had put a new tube in the second
barometer which had somehow been broken, we pushed off once more to see
what the day would develop. The rapid just below camp we ran through
easily and then made swift progress for seven miles, running nine more
rapids, two rather bad ones. The _Cañonita_ grounded once on a shoal but
got off without damage. Where we stopped for dinner we caught sight of
two mountain sheep drinking, and Andy and I got our guns out of the
cabins as quickly as possible and started after them, but they flew away
like birds of the air. Near this point there was a small abandoned hut
of mesquite logs. We went into camp farther down on the left for
investigations, the Major and I going up the river and finding a small
salty creek which we followed for a time on an old trail, the Major
studying the geology and collecting specimens of the rocks, which we
carried back to camp, arriving after dark. The geology and topography
here were complicated and particularly interesting, and we ought to have
been able to spend more days, but the food question, as well as time,
was a determining factor in our movements, and with only two boats our
rations would carry us with necessary stops only to the mouth of the
Kanab Canyon where our pack-train would meet us on September 4th. There
was no other place above Diamond Creek known at that time, except
perhaps the spot near Mount Trumbull, where supplies could be brought
in. On Wednesday we ran two or three miles and stopped for our
photographers to get some views opposite a rust-coloured sandstone. We
also had dinner at this place and then continued the descent. After
running four rapids successfully, making a let-down at another, and a
portage over the upper end of a sixth we were ready, having made in all
six miles, to go into camp part way down the last, one of the heaviest
falls we had so far encountered. It was perhaps half a mile long, with a
declivity of at least forty feet, studded by numerous enormous boulders.
A heavy rain began during our work of getting below, and our clothes
being already wet the air became very chilly. We had to carry the
cargoes only a short distance, with no climbing, and there was ample
room so the portage was not difficult in that respect. But though we
could manoeuvre the empty boats down along the shore amidst the big
rocks, they were exceedingly heavy for our small band, and in sliding
them down between the huge masses, with the water pouring around and
often into them, we sometimes had as much as we could do to manage them,
each man being obliged to strain his muscle to the limit. Jack from this
cause hurt his back so badly that he could not lift at all, and overcome
by the sudden weakness and pain he came near sinking into the swift
river at the stern of the _Dean_ where he happened at the moment to be
working. I heard his cry and clambered over to seize him as quickly as I
could, helping him to shore, where we did all that was possible for his
comfort. As we were going no farther that day he was able to rest, and
in the morning felt much better, though his back was still weak. Andy
took his place in our boat to run the lower end of the rapid, which was
easily done. We landed below on the same side, enabling Andy to go back
to help bring down the _Cañonita_, while Jack walked along the rocks to
where we were. Here we remained for a couple of hours while I climbed up
for the Major and measured the "Red Beds," and Jack rested again,
improving very fast. When we were ready to go on his trouble had almost
disappeared.
[Illustration: The Grand Canyon.
From just below the Little Colorado.
Photograph by J. K. Hillers, 1872.]
A dark granite formation had run up at the foot of the last fall and it
rose rapidly higher, hemming the water in with steep, forbidding cliffs
close together. The river became much narrower and swirled with an
oily-looking current around the buttresses of granite that thrust
themselves from one side or the other into it. The declivity was not
great and the torrent was otherwise placid. After three miles of this
ominous docility, just as the dinner hour was near and the threatening
black granite had risen to one thousand feet above the water, we heard a
deep, sullen roar ahead and from the boats the whole river seemed to
vanish instantly from earth. At once we ran in on the right to a small
area of great broken rocks that protruded above the water at the foot of
the wall, and stepping out on these we could look down on one of the
most fearful places I ever saw or ever hope to see under like
circumstances,--a place that might have been the Gate to Hell that
Steward had mentioned. We were near the beginning of a tremendous fall.
The narrow river dropped suddenly and smoothly away, and then, beaten to
foam, plunged and boomed for a third of a mile through a descent of from
eighty to one hundred feet, the enormous waves leaping twenty or thirty
feet into the air and sending spray twice as high.[33] On each side were
the steep, ragged granitic walls, with the tumultuous waters lashing and
pounding against them in a way that precluded all idea of portage or
let-down. It needed no second glance to tell us that there was only one
way of getting below. If the rocks did not stop us we could "cross to
Killiloo," and when a driving rain had ceased Andy gathered the few
sticks of driftwood available for a fire, by which he prepared some
dinner in advance of the experiment. Jack and Clem took three negatives,
and when the dinner was disposed of we stowed all loose articles snugly
away in the cabins, except a camp-kettle in each standing-room to bail
with, and then battening down the hatches with extra care, and making
everything shipshape, we pulled the _Dean_ up-stream, leaving the
_Cañonita_ and her crew to watch our success or failure and profit by
it. The Major had on his life-preserver and so had Jones, but Jack and I
put ours behind our seats, where we could catch them up quickly, for
they were so large we thought they impeded the handling of the oars.
Jack's back had fortunately now recovered, so that he was able to row
almost his usual stroke. We pulled up-stream about a quarter of a mile
close to the right-hand wall, in order that we might get well into the
middle of the river before making the great plunge, and then we turned
our bow out and secured the desired position as speedily as possible,
heading down upon the roaring enemy--roaring as if it would surely
swallow us at one gulp.
[Illustration: The Grand Canyon.
Running the Sockdologer.
From a sketch afterwards by F. S. Dellenbaugh.]
My back being towards the fall I could not see it, for I could not turn
round while waiting every instant for orders. Nearer and nearer came
the angry tumult; the Major shouted "Back water!" there was a sudden
dropping away of all support; then the mighty waves smote us. The boat
rose to them well, but we were flying at twenty-five miles an hour and
at every leap the breakers rolled over us. "Bail!" shouted the
Major,--"Bail for your lives!" and we dropped the oars to bail, though
bailing was almost useless. The oars could not get away, for they had
rawhide rings nailed around near the handle to prevent them from
slipping through the rowlocks. The boat rolled and pitched like a ship
in a tornado, and as she flew along Jack and I, who faced backwards,
could look up under the canopies of foam pouring over gigantic black
boulders, first on one side, then on the other. Why we did not land on
top of one of these and turn over I don't know, unless it might be that
the very fury of the current causes a recoil. However that may be, we
struck nothing but the waves, the boats riding finely and certainly
leaping at times almost half their length out of water, to bury
themselves quite as far at the next lunge. If you will take a watch and
count by it ninety seconds, you will probably have about the time we
were in this chaos, though it seemed much longer to me. Then we were
through, and immediately took advantage of an eddy on one side to lie to
and bail out, for the boat was full of water. Setting her to rights as
quickly as we could, we got ready to make a dash for the crew of the
_Cañonita_ in case she fared worse than we did. We looked anxiously for
her to appear, and presently, at the top of what seemed to us now to be
a straight wall of foam, her small white bulk hung for an instant and
then vanished from our sight in the mad flood. Soon appearing at the
bottom uninjured, she ran in to where we were waiting. The _Cañonita_,
being lighter than our boat, did not ship as much water as in some other
places, and altogether we agreed that notwithstanding its great descent
and furious aspect the passage was not more difficult than we had made
in several previous rapids.
Continuing on down the narrow and gloomy granite gorge, we encountered
about a mile farther down a singular rapid, which turned the _Cañonita_
completely around. About four o'clock we found ourselves before another
tremendous fall, and a very ugly one. Landing on the left, we discovered
that to be the wrong side, and crossed over to a little cove where
there was a patch of gravel, surrounded by vertical walls, the crossing
being easily made because the water seemed to slacken before the plunge.
We did not intend to run the place if it could be avoided, and the south
side gave no opportunity whatever for a portage, while the north side
offered no very easy course. Prof. declared this to be one of the worst
rapids we had seen, and we were now about two hundred feet above the
head of it, with the vertical cliffs between. Immediately at the
beginning of the drop on the same side that we were on was a pile of
boulders, and our plan was to engineer the boats by lines from where we
had landed down to these rocks, from which we believed we could work
around over the rocks into an alcove there was there, and thence go down
till we reached the lower part of the descent, through which we could
navigate. Consequently several of the men entered one boat, and we
lowered her from the stern of the second as far as her line would reach,
and then lowered the second till the first lodged in the rocks at the
desired point at the head of the fall. Then, pulling up the second boat,
we who had remained got on board, and by clinging to the projections of
the wall, the current close in being quite slow, we succeeded in
arriving alongside the first boat. The next thing was to get around into
the alcove. The sky above was heavy and rain began to come down
steadily, making the dark granite blacker and intensifying the gloomy
character of the locality. By hard work we finally got our boats across
the rocks and down about two hundred feet farther into a cove, where
they rested easily. Up to this time we had made in all, during the day,
seven and one-quarter miles. As night was now dropping fast we had to
make camp on a pile of broken granite, where a close search yielded an
armful or two of small pieces of driftwood, all wet. Under a rock
several dry sticks were discovered, and by their aid a fire soon blazed
up by which the indomitable Andy proceeded to get supper. There was no
use changing wet clothes for dry ones from the rubber bags as long as
the rain fell, and it increased till water was dashing off the walls in
streams. The thunder roared and crashed as if it were knocking the
cliffs about to rearrange them all, and a deluge swept down in which
Andy's struggling little fire died with hardly a sputter. The only thing
remaining for us to do was to all stand with our backs against the foot
of the wall, which was still warm from the day, and wait for something
else to happen. The bread-pan seen through the dim and dismal light was
a tempestuous lake, with an island of dough in it, while Andy the
undaunted stood grimly gazing at it, the rain dribbling from his hat and
shoulders till he resembled the fabled ferryman of the River Styx. The
situation was so ludicrous that every one laughed, and the Weather God
finding that we were not downcast slackened the downpour immediately.
Then we put some oars against the wall and stretched a paulin to protect
our noble chef, who finally got the wet firewood once more ignited, and
succeeded in getting the bread almost baked and the coffee nearly hot
and some dried peaches almost stewed. The rain ceasing, we hurriedly
donned dry clothes and applied ourselves to the destruction of these
viands, which tasted better than might be imagined. Each man then took
his blankets, and, selecting rocks that in his judgment were the
softest, he went to sleep.
There was another alcove about three hundred yards below our camp, and
in the morning, Friday, August 30th, we proceeded to work our way down
to this, several men clambering along a ledge about 150 feet above the
water with the line, while I remained each time in the boat below with
an oar to keep the bow in against the wall, so that she could not take
the current on the wrong side--that is, on the side next to the
wall--and cut out into the river. In this way we got both boats down to
the alcove, whence we intended to pull out into the current and run the
lower portion of the rapid. It was only noon when we reached the place,
but then we discovered that both boats had been so pounded that they
badly needed repairs--in fact, it was imperative to halt there for this
purpose,--and we hauled them out on a patch of broken rocks, thirty or
forty feet square, filling the curve of the alcove and bounded by
vertical rocks and the river. While at work on them we happened to
notice that the river was rapidly rising, and, setting a mark, the rate
was found to be three feet an hour. The rocks on which we were standing
and where all the cargo was lying were being submerged. We looked around
for some way to get up the cliff, as it was now too late to think of
leaving. About fifteen feet above the top of the rocks on which we were
working there was a shelf five or six feet wide, to which some of the
men climbed, and we passed up every article to them. When the repairs
were done darkness was filling the great gorge. By means of lines from
above and much hard lifting we succeeded in raising the boats up the
side of the cliff, till they were four or five feet above the highest
rocks of the patch on which we stood. This insured their safety for the
time being, and if the river mounted to them we intended to haul them
still higher. The next thing was to find a place to sleep. By walking
out on a ledge from the shelf where our goods were we could turn a
jutting point above the rushing river by clinging closely to the rocks,
and walk back on a shelf on the other side to a considerable area of
finely broken rocks, thirty feet above the torrent, where there was room
enough for a camp. Rain fell at intervals, and the situation was
decidedly unpromising. While Andy and the others were getting the cook
outfit and rations around the point, I climbed the cliffs hunting for
wood. I found small pieces of driftwood lodged behind mesquite bushes
fully one hundred feet above the prevailing stage of water. I collected
quite an armful of half-dead mesquite, which has the advantage of being
so compact that it makes a fire hot as coal, and little is needed to
cook by. Supper was not long in being despatched, and then, every man
feeling about worn out, we put on dry clothes, the rain having ceased,
and went to sleep on the rocks. Before doing so we climbed back to
examine the boats, and found the river was not coming up farther, though
it had almost completely covered the rocks.
Saturday, the 21st of August, 1872, was about the gloomiest morning I
ever saw. Rain was falling, the clouds hung low over our heads like a
lid to the box-like chasm in the black, funereal granite enclosing us,
while the roar of the big rapid seemed to be intensified. We felt like
rats in a trap. Eating breakfast as quickly as possible, we got
everything together again on the shelf and lowered the boats. Though the
river was not rising, it beat and surged into the cove in a way that
made the boats jump and bounce the moment they touched the water. To
prevent their being broken by pounding, one man at each steadied them
while the others passed down the sacks and instrument boxes. Then it was
seen that either a new leak had sprung in the _Dean_ amidships or a hole
had not been caulked, for a stream as wide as two fingers was spurting
into the middle cabin. To repair her now meant hauling both boats back
against the side of the cliff and spending another day in this trap,
with the chance of the river rising much higher before night so that we
might not be able to get away at all--at least not for days. For an
instant the Major thought of pulling the boats out again, but as his
quick judgment reviewed the conditions he exclaimed, "By God, we'll
start! Load up!" It was the rarest thing for him to use an oath, and I
remember only one other occasion when he did so--in Marble Canyon when
he thought we were going to smash. We threw the things in as fast as we
could, jammed a bag of flour against the leak in the _Dean_, battened
down the hatches, threw our rifles into the bottom of the standing rooms
where the water and sand washed unheeded over them, and jumped to our
oars. The crew of the _Cañonita_ held our stern till the bow swung out
into the river, and then at the signal Jack and I laid to with all our
strength--to shoot clear of an enormous rock about fifty feet below
against which the fierce current was dashing. The _Dean_ was so nearly
water-logged that she was sluggish in responding to the oars, but we
swept past the rock safely and rolled along down the river in the tail
of the rapid with barely an inch of gunwale to spare,--in fact I thought
the boat might sink. As soon as we saw a narrow talus on the right we
ran in and landed.
When the _Cañonita_ was ready to start one of Clem's oars could not be
found, and Prof. had to delay to cut down one of the extras for him.
Then they got their boat up as far as they could, and while Prof. and
Andy kept her from pounding to pieces, Clem got in, bailed out, and took
his oars. Prof. then climbed in at the stern, but the current was so
strong that it pulled Andy off his feet and he was just able to get on,
the boat drifting down stern first toward the big rock. Prof. concluded
to let the stern strike and then try to throw the boat around into the
river. By this time Andy had got hold of his oars, and the eddy seemed
to carry them up-stream some twenty-five feet, so perverse and
capricious is the Colorado. They swung the bow to starboard into the
main current, and with a couple of strong oar-strokes the dreaded rock
was cleared, and down the _Cañonita_ came to us over the long waves like
a hunted deer. We unloaded the _Dean_ and pulled her out for repairs,
but it was after four o'clock when we were able to go on again with a
fairly tight boat. Then for eight miles the river was a continuous rapid
broken by eight heavy falls, but luckily there were no rocks in any of
them at this stage of water, and we were able to dash through one after
another at top speed, stopping only once for examination. Two of these
rapids were portages on the former trip, proving the ease and advantage
of high water in some places; but the disadvantages are much greater.
Through a very narrow canyon on the right we caught a glimpse of a
pretty creek, but we were going so fast the view was brief and
imperfect. At 5:15 o'clock we ran up to a wide sandbank on which grew a
solitary willow tree and there Camp 99 was made. For a space the inner
canyon was much wider than above and the mouth of Bright Angel Creek was
just below us; a locality now well known because a trail from the Hotel
Tovar on the south rim comes down at this point. The name was applied by
the Major on his first trip to offset the name Dirty Devil applied
farther up.
[Illustration: The Grand Canyon.
From Top of Granite, South Side near Bright Angel Creek.]
The next day was Sunday, September 1st, and after the Major had climbed
the south wall for observations we started once more on a powerful
current. For the first three miles there was a continuous rapid with no
opportunity to land. We dashed through waves that tossed us badly and
filled the boats half full and then half full again before we had a
chance to bail. In fifteen minutes we made the three miles and a half
mile more, to arrive at a heavy rapid, which we ran and in two miles
reached another with fearful waves, which we also ran. In one Jones was
overbalanced by his oar hitting the top of a big wave behind the boat
and he was knocked out. He clung by his knees and hands, his back in the
water, and the boat careened till I thought she would go over. We could
not move to help him without upsetting and were compelled to leave him
to his own resources. In some way he succeeded in scrambling back. The
waves were tremendous and sometimes seemed to come from all directions
at once. There were whirlpools, too, that turned us round in spite of
every effort to prevent it. The river was about one hundred and fifty
feet wide. After an extremely strenuous morning we halted on the right
for dinner, continuing as soon as we had disposed of it. Presently we
arrived at a sharp fall of about twenty feet, where we made a portage,
and waited at the foot for the photographers to take some negatives and
also for repairing the _Cañonita_. Finally it was decided to camp on
the spot. It was Camp 100. Our record for the day was a trifle over
seven miles with nine rapids run and one portage.
Almost the first thing in the morning of September 2d was a portage,
after which we had fair water for two or three miles, and then reached a
very heavy fall, where we landed on the left and had dinner before
making another portage. This accomplished, we proceeded on a river still
rising and ran a great many bad rapids, some of them having tremendous
falls. In one the fierce current set against the cliff so strongly that
we were carried within an oar's length of it, notwithstanding our severe
effort to avoid so close an acquaintance with the rough wall. Even
between rapids the velocity of the water was extremely high and we flew
along at terrific speed, while in the huge waves of the rapids the boats
leaped and plunged with startling violence. Toward night a sudden halt
was made on the left to examine a bad-looking place half a mile below.
The Major and Prof. tried to climb where they could get a good view of
it, but they failed. The Major said we would run it in the morning,
though Prof. was dubious about the feasibility of doing so successfully
and said he thought it about the worst place we had yet seen. We camped
on a rocky talus where we were. A small sandbank was found nearby for
our beds, and we made another discovery, a small pool of clear, pure
water, a rare treat after the muddy Colorado which we had been drinking
for so long. Twenty rapids were placed to our credit for this one day in
a trifle over fifteen miles, and we felt that we were vanquishing the
Grand Canyon with considerable success.
Our life now was so strenuous every hour of the day that our songs were
forgotten, and when night came every man was so used up that as soon as
supper was over rest and sleep were the only things that interested us.
Though our beds were as hard and rough as anything could be, we slept
with the intensity of the rocks themselves, and it never seemed more
than a few minutes before we were aroused by the Major's rising signal
"Oh-ho, boys!" and rose to our feet to pack the blankets in the rubber
bags, sometimes with a passing thought as to whether we would ever take
them out again. For my part, never before nor since have I been so
tired. One night when the Major called us to look out for the boats I
did not hear him and no one waked me so I slept on, learning about it
only the next morning. Our food supply was composed partly of jerked
beef, and as this could not be put in rubber because of the grease it
became more or less damp and there developed in it a peculiar kind of
worm, the largest about an inch long, with multitudinous legs. There
were a great many of them and they gave the beef a queer taste. In order
to clear the sacks as far as possible of these undesirable denizens I
several times emptied them on wide smooth rocks, and while the worms
were scrambling around I scraped up the beef without many of them, but
could not get rid of all. Andy's method of cooking this beef was to make
a gravy with bacon fat and scorched flour and then for a few moments
stew the beef in the gravy. Ordinarily this made a very palatable dish
but the peculiar flavour of the beef now detracted from it, though we
were so hungry that we could eat anything without a query, and our
diminishing supply of rations forbade the abandonment of the valuable
beef.
When we arose on the morning of September 3d the dubious rapid was
tossing its huge waves exactly as on the night before and humanity
seemed to be out of the reckoning. By eight o'clock we were ready for
it, and with everything in good trim we pushed off. The current was
strong from the start, and a small rapid just below camp gave additional
speed, so that we were soon bearing down on the big one with wild
velocity. The river dropped away abruptly, to rise again in a succession
of fearful billows whose crests leaped and danced high in air as if
rejoicing at the prospect of annihilating us. Just then the Major
changed his mind as to running the place, for now standing on the boat's
deck he could see it better than before from the region of our camp. He
ordered us to pull hard on our left, intending to land at a spot that
was propitious on the left or south bank, but no sooner had he given
this command than he perceived that no landing above the fall was
possible. He gave another order which put us straight in the middle
again and down we flew upon the descent. The Major as usual had put on
his life-preserver and I think Jones had on his, but Jack and I, as was
our custom, placed ours inflated immediately behind our seats, not
wishing to be hampered by them. The plunge was exceedingly sharp and
deep, and then we found ourselves tossing like a chip in a frightful
chaos of breakers which almost buried us, though the boats rose to them
as well as any craft possibly could. I bailed with a camp kettle rapidly
and Jack did the same, but the boat remained full to the gunwales as we
were swept on. We had passed the worst of it when, just as the _Dean_
mounted a giant wave at an angle perhaps of forty or fifty degrees, the
crest broke in a deluge against the port bow with a loud slap. In an
instant we were upside-down going over to starboard. I threw up my hand
instinctively to grasp something, and luckily caught hold of a spare oar
which was carried slung on the side, and by this means I pulled myself
above water. My hat was pasted down over my eyes. Freeing myself from
this I looked about. Bottom up the boat was clear of the rapid and
sweeping on down with the swift, boiling current toward a dark bend. The
_Cañonita_ was nowhere to be seen. No living thing was visible. The
narrow black gorge rose in sombre majesty to the everlasting sky. What
was a mere human life or two in the span of eternity? I was about
preparing to climb up on the bottom of the boat when I perceived Jones
clinging to the ring in the stern, and in another second the Major and
Jack shot up alongside as if from a gun. The whole party had been kept
together in a kind of whirlpool, and the Major and Jack had been pulled
down head first till, as is the nature of these suctions on the
Colorado, it suddenly changed to an upward force and threw them out into
the air.
There was no time to lose, for we did not wish to go far in this
condition; another rapid might be in waiting around the corner. Jack and
I carefully got up on the bottom, leaving the Major at the bow and Jones
at the stern, and leaning over we took hold of the starboard gunwale
under water, and throwing ourselves back quickly together we brought the
_Dean_ up on her keel, though she came near rolling clear over the other
way. She was even full of water, but the cabins supported her. Jack
helped me in and then I balanced his effort so as not to capsize again.
The bailing kettles were gone, but as our hats had strangely enough
remained on our heads through it all we bailed with them as fast as
possible for a few seconds till we lowered the water sufficiently to
make it safe to get the others on board. The Major came aft along the
gunwale and I helped him in, then Jack helped Jones. The oars,
fortunately, had not come out of the locks, thanks to our excellent
arrangement, and grasping them, without trying to haul in the bow line
trailing a hundred feet in the water, we pulled hard for a slight eddy
on the left where we perceived a footing on the rocks, and as soon as we
were near enough I caught up the rope, made the leap, and threw the
bight over a projection, where I held the boat while Jack and Jones
bailed rapidly and set things in order so that we could go to the
assistance of the _Cañonita_. The Major's Jurgenssen chronometer had
stopped at 8:26:30 from the wetting.
The _Cañonita_, being more lightly laden than the _Dean_, and also not
meeting the peculiar coincidence of mounting a wave at the instant it
broke, came down with no more damage than the loss of three oars and the
breaking of a rowlock. Probably if the Major had sat down on the deck
instead of in the chair we might also have weathered the storm.[34]
About a mile and a half below we made a landing at a favourable spot on
the right, where the cargoes were spread out to dry and the boats were
overhauled, while the Major and I climbed up the wall to where he
desired to make a geological investigation. We joked him a good deal
about his zeal in going to examine the geology at the bottom of the
river, but as a matter of fact he came near departing by that road to
another world.
We were now in an exceedingly difficult part of the granite gorge, for,
at the prevailing stage of water, landings were either highly precarious
or not possible at all, so we could not examine places before running,
and could not always make a portage where we deemed it necessary. There
were also all manner of whirlpools and bad places. Starting on about
three o'clock we descended several rapids in about six miles, when we
saw one ahead that looked particularly forbidding. The granite came down
almost vertically to the water, projecting in huge buttresses that
formed a succession of little bays, especially on the left, where we
manoeuvred in and out, keeping close against the rocks, the current
there being slack. The plan was for me to be ready, on turning the last
point, to jump out on some rocks we had noticed from above not far from
the beginning of the rapid. As we crept around the wall I stood up with
the bight of the line in one hand, while Jack pulled in till we began to
drift down stern foremost alongshore. At the proper moment I made my
leap exactly calculated. Unluckily at the instant the capricious
Colorado threw a "boil" up between the bow and the flat rock I was
aiming at, turning the bow out several feet, and instead of landing
where I intended I disappeared in deep water. I clung to the line and
the acceleration of the boat's descent quickly pulled me back to the
surface. She was gliding rapidly past more rocks and the Major jumped
for them with the purpose of catching the rope, but they were so
isolated and covered with rushing water that he had all he could do to
take care of himself. Jones then tried the same thing, but with the same
result. Jack stuck to his post. I went hand over hand to the bow as fast
as I could, and reaching the gunwale I was on board in a second. One of
my oars had somehow come loose, but Jack had caught it and now handed it
to me. We took our places and surveyed the chances. Apparently we were
in for running the rapid stern foremost and we prepared for it, but in
the middle of the stream there was a rock of most gigantic proportions
sloping up the river in such a way that the surges alternately rolled
upon it and then slid back. Partly up the slope we were drawn by this
power, and on the down rush the boat turned and headed diagonally just
right for reaching the left bank. We saw our opportunity and, pulling
with every muscle, lodged the _Dean_ behind a huge boulder at the very
beginning of the main rapid, where I made the line fast in the twinkle
of an eye. Meanwhile the Major had hastily scrambled up to where he
could see down the canyon, and he heard Jack's hearty shout of "All
right!" Lowering the _Dean_ a couple of rods farther to a sandbank at
the mouth of a gulch we went into camp feeling that we had done enough
river work for one day, and the _Cañonita's_ crew without accident
lowered down to the same place before Andy had supper ready. My hat had
come off in my deep plunge and beyond this I did not have one. Near by
was a small clear spring that gave us another treat of palatable water,
the Colorado now being muddier than ever, as it was still on the rise,
coming up three feet more while we were here. The entire day's run was
eight and one-eighth miles. The Major and Prof. succeeded in getting
down three miles on foot to reconnoitre.
[Illustration: The Grand Canyon.
Character of River in Rapids.
Photograph by F. S. Dellenbaugh, 1907.]
Continuing in the morning, September 4th, we lowered the boats past the
remainder of the rapid and then shoved out into the terrific current
once more. Water could hardly run faster than it now did, except in a
fall or rapid. The canyon was narrow and for five miles we encountered
the worst whirlpools we had anywhere seen. The descent was swift and
continuous, but the river was broken only by the whirlpools and "boils"
as we called them, the surface suddenly seeming to boil up and run over.
These upshoots, as a rule, seemed to follow whirlpools. In the latter
the water for a diameter of twenty or twenty-five feet would revolve
around a centre with great rapidity, the surface inclining to the
vortex, the top of which was perhaps eighteen or twenty inches lower
than the general level. The vortex itself was perfectly formed, like a
large funnel, and about six or eight inches in diameter, where it began
to be a hole in the water, tapering thence down in four or five feet to
a mere point. The same effect is often seen when the water is flowing
out of a round wash-basin through a pipe at the bottom. These were the
most perfect whirlpools I have ever seen, those above having been
lacking in so distinct a vortex. There were many and we could often see
them ahead, but try as we would to cleave through without a complete
revolution or two of the boat we could not do it. The boats sank down
into the hollow, enabling one to look over the side into the spinning
opening, but the boats, being almost as long as the whirlpool's usual
diameter, could not be pulled in and we were not alarmed. We found it
rather interesting to see if we could get through without turning, but
we never did. Any ordinary short object or one that could be tipped on
end would surely go out of sight. So furious ran the river along this
stretch that we found it impossible to stop, the boats being like bits
of paper in a mill-race, swinging from one side to the other, and
whirling round and round as we were swept along between the narrow walls
till we ran the granite under about five miles from our last camp.
Finally, after a run all told of fourteen miles with twenty-three
rapids, we made Camp 103 with walls of friendly sandstone about us. Here
again we discovered a small clear spring for drinking and cooking
purposes. There was no rain this day and at night we put on our dry
clothes with confidence and had a warm comfortable camp with a good
sound sleep.
Thursday morning found us early on the river, which to our surprise
turned suddenly in a north-north-east direction. When we had gone about
nine miles and had run the granite up and down again, it began to turn
to the west. At one point the river was not more than fifty feet wide;
the current was everywhere exceedingly strong and there were many
rapids, of which we ran twelve, and made a portage at another, and a
let-down at still another. We camped at the end of the nine miles on a
small sandbank, with the total height of walls about four thousand feet,
breaking back in terraces after about eight hundred feet. Clem and Jack
made a number of photographs wherever practicable, and altogether they
had succeeded in securing a representative collection.
During the morning of Friday, September 6th, we ran two rapids in two
miles, which brought us to one which we thought required a let-down and
we made it. As it was easy, Jack and Clem busied themselves
photographing while we were doing it, and we also had dinner here. About
two o'clock we went on and in less than three miles ran four rapids, the
fourth being an exceedingly heavy fall, at the foot of which we went
into camp on the right bank. A little distance above on the same side of
the river was a fine clear cold creek larger than the Paria in quantity
of water. We called it Tapeats Creek, because a Pai Ute of that name,
who had pointed it out to the Major from the Kaibab, claimed it. During
the day the work had been far less strenuous, there were few whirlpools,
the river was falling, and it was in every way much easier than above in
the granite. A morning was spent at Tapeats Creek for examinations, and
we found there some ancient house ruins not far up the side canyon. I
discovered a fine large metate or Indian mill, deeply hollowed out, and
foolishly attempted to take it to camp. On arriving there it was so
heavy I had to drop it and it broke in two, much to the Major's disgust,
who told me I ought to have let it alone, a fact which I realised then
also. Our rations were now running very low again, for we had taken more
days for this passage than were planned, and as soon as we launched
forth after dinner we began to look longingly for the mouth of Kanab
Canyon and the pack-train. The river was much easier in every respect,
and after our experience of the previous days it seemed mere play. The
granite ran up for a mile or two, but then we entered sedimentary strata
and came to a pretty little cascade falling through a crevice on the
right from a valley hidden behind a low wall. We at once recognised it
as one which Beaman had photographed when he and Riley had made their
way up along the rocks from the mouth of the Kanab during the winter. We
remembered that they had called it ten miles to the Kanab from this
place, and after we had climbed up to examine what they had named
Surprise Valley we went on expecting to reach the Kanab before night.
Running several small and one fairly large rapid, we saw, after twelve
miles from the last camp, a seeming crack on the right, and a few
seconds later heard a wild yelling. In a little while we landed and
lowered to the head of a rapid, and running to the right up the
backwater into the mouth of the Kanab Canyon, we found George Adair,
Nathan Adams, and Joe Hamblin, our three faithful packers, waiting there
for us with the rations. They had grown very anxious, for we were
several days overdue, and they feared we had been destroyed,--a fear
that was emphasised by one of Andy's discarded shirts washing ashore at
their feet. We pulled the boats a short distance up the Kanab on the
backwater and made a comfortable camp, 106, on its right bank, where we
were soon lost in letters and papers the pack-train had brought down.
Our altitude was now 1800 feet above sea-level, showing a descent from
the Little Colorado, in about 70 miles, of 890 feet, with 131 rapids
run, besides six let-downs and seven portages. The total descent from
the Paria was 1370 feet.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 32: There is but one Grand Canyon--the one here referred to.
Persons unfamiliar with Western geography frequently confound the Canyon
of the Arkansas with that of the Colorado because the former is in the
state of Colorado. The Grand Canyon is in Arizona but on the
_Colorado_ River.]
[Footnote 33: Professor Thompson in his diary calls the descent 130 feet
in three-quarters of a mile.]
[Footnote 34: For the benefit of any one who contemplates descending the
Colorado I would state that unsinkable boats are the only kind to use
and the centre of gravity should be kept low. Cork life-jackets are
indispensable.]