THE BATTLE WITH LODORE
Camp routine was hurriedly disposed of the next morning, Saturday,
September the 23d. Everything was made snug beneath the hatches,
except the two guns, which were too long to go under the decks, and
had to be carried in the open cockpits. “Camp No. 13, at the head of
Lodore,” as it is entered in my journal, was soon hidden by a bend
in the river. The open, sun-lit country, with its pleasant ranches
and its grazing cattle, its rolling, gray, sage-covered hills and its
wild grass and cottonwood-covered bottoms, was left behind, and we
were back in the realm of the rock-walled canyon, and beetle-browed,
frowning cliffs with pines and cedars clutching at the scanty ledges.
We paused long enough to make a picture or two, with the hope that
the photographic record would give to others some idea of the
geological and scenic wonder--said to be the greatest known example
of its kind--which lay before us. Here is an obstructing mountain
raised directly in the river’s path. Yet with no deviation whatever
the stream has cut through the very centre of the peak! The walls are
almost sheer, especially at the bottom, and are quite close together
at the top. A mile inside the mountain on the left or east side of
the gorge is 2700 feet high. Geologists say that the river was here
first and that the mountain was slowly raised in its pathway--so
slowly that the river could saw away and maintain its old channel.
The quicksand found below the present level would seem to indicate
that the walls were once even higher than at present, and that a
subsidence had taken place after the cutting.
The river at the entrance of this rock-walled canyon was nothing
alarming, four small rapids being passed without event. Then a fifth
was reached that looked worse. The _Edith_ was lined down. This was
hard work, and dangerous too, owing to the strength of the current
and the many rocks; so I concluded that my own boat, the _Defiance_,
must run the rapid. Jimmy went below, with a life-preserver on a
rope. Emery stood beside the rapid with a camera and made a picture
as I shot past him. Fortunately I got through without mishap. I
refused to upset even to please my brother.
We were beginning to think that Lodore was not so bad after all.
Rapid followed rapid in quick succession, and all were run without
trouble; then we came to a large one. It was Upper Disaster Falls;
so named by Major Powell, for it was here that one of his boats was
wrecked on his first voyage of exploration. This boat failed to
make the landing above the rapid and was carried over. She struck a
rock broadside, turned around and struck again, breaking the boat
completely in two. This boat was built of ¾-inch oak reënforced with
bulkheads. When this fact is taken into consideration, some idea may
be had of the great power of these rapids. The three men who occupied
the boat saved themselves by reaching an island a short distance
below.
This all happened on a stage of water much higher than the present
one, so we did not let the occurrence influence us one way or the
other, except to make us careful to land above the rapid. We found
a very narrow channel between two submerged boulders, the water
plunging and foaming for a short distance below, over many hidden
rocks. Still, there was only one large rock near the lower end that
we greatly feared, and by careful work that might be avoided.
The _Edith_ went first and grazed the boulder slightly, but no harm
was done as E. C. held his boat well in hand. I followed, and struck
rocks at the same instant on both sides of the narrow channel with my
oars. It will be remembered that we ran all these dangerous rapids
facing downstream. The effect of this was to shoot the ends of both
oars up past my face. The operator said that I made a grimace just as
he took a picture of the scrimmage.
We landed on the island below and talked of camping for the night, as
it was getting late; but the island so rocky and inhospitable that
we concluded to try the lower part of the rapid. This had no descent
like the upper end; but it was very shallow, and we soon found
ourselves on rocks, unable to proceed any farther. It took an hour of
hard labour to work our heavy boats safely to the shore.
[Illustration: _Copyright by Kolb Bros._
REMARKABLE ENTRANCE TO LODORE CANYON.]
We had been hoping for a rest the next day--Sunday--but the island
was such a disagreeable place to camp that it seemed necessary to
cross to the mainland at least. A coil of strong, pliable wire
had been included in our material. Here was a chance to use it to
advantage. The stream on the left side of the island could be waded,
although it was very swift; and we managed to get the wire across and
well fastened at both ends. Elevating the wire above the water with
cross-sticks, our tent and camp material were run across on a pulley,
and camp was pitched a hundred yards below, on the left shore of the
river.
There were fitful showers in the afternoon, and we rested from our
labour, obtaining a great deal of comfort from our tent, which was
put up here for the third time since leaving Green River City.
Always, when the weather was clear, we slept in the open.
Monday, the 25th, found us at the same camp. Having concluded that
Disaster Falls was an ideal place for a moving picture, we sent
the balance of the material across on the pulley and wire, making
a picture of the operation; stopping often because it continued to
shower. Between showers we resumed our work and picture making.
The picture was to have been concluded with the operation of lining
the boat across. E. C. stood on the shore about sixty feet away,
working with the camera; Jimmy was on the island, paying out the
rope; while I waded in the water, holding the bow of the boat as I
worked her between the rocks. Having reached the end of the rope, I
coiled it up, advising Jimmy to go up to a safe crossing and join
my brother while I proceeded with the boat. All was going well, and
I was nearing the shore, when I found myself suddenly carried off
my feet into water beyond my depth, and drifting for the lower end
of the rapid. Meanwhile I was holding to the bow of the boat, and
calling lustily to my brother to save me. At first he did not notice
that anything was wrong, as he was looking intently through the
finder. Then he suddenly awoke to the fact that something was amiss,
and came running down the boulder-strewn shore, but he could not
help me, as we had neglected to leave a rope with him. Things were
beginning to look pretty serious, when the boat stopped against a
rock and I found myself once more with solid footing under me. It was
too good a picture to miss; and I found the operator at the machine,
turning the crank as I climbed out.
We developed some films and plates that evening, securing some
satisfactory results from these tests. It continued to rain all that
night, with intermittent showers next morning. The rain made little
difference to us, for we were in the water much of the following day
as the boats were taken along the edge of another unrunnable rapid, a
good companion rapid for the one just passed.
This was Lower Disaster Falls, the first of many similar rapids
we were to see, but this was one of the worst of its kind. The
swift-rushing river found its channel blocked by the canyon wall on
the right side, the cliff running at right angles to the course of
the stream. The river, attacking the limestones, had cut a channel
under the wall, then turned and ran with the wall, emerging about
two hundred feet below. Standing on a rock and holding one end of a
twenty-five foot string we threw a stone attached to the other end
across to the opposite wall. The overhanging wall was within two
feet of the rushing river; a higher stage of water would hide the
cut completely from view. Think what would happen if a boat were
carried against or under that wall! We thought of it many times as we
carefully worked our boats along the shore.
Between the delays of rain, with stops for picture making, portaging
our material, and “lining” our boats, we spent almost three days in
getting past the rapids called Upper and Lower Disaster Falls, with
their combined fall of 50 feet in little more than half a mile. On
the evening of September the 26th we camped almost within sight of
this same place, at the base of a 3000-foot sugar-loaf mountain on
the right, tree-covered from top to bottom.
Things were going too easily for us, it seemed; but we were in for a
few reverses. It stormed much of the night and still drizzled when we
embarked on the following morning. The narrow canyon was gloomy and
darkened with shreds of clouds drifting far below the rim. The first
rapid was narrow, and contained some large boulders. The _Edith_ was
caught on one of these and turned on her side, so that the water
flowed in, filling the cockpit. The boat was taken off without
difficulty, and bailed out. We found that the bulkheads failed to
keep the water out of the hatches. Some material from the _Edith_ was
transferred to the _Defiance_. A bed, in a protecting sack of rubber
and canvas, was shoved under the seat and we proceeded.
[Illustration: _Copyright by Kolb Bros._
“THE RIVER CUT A CHANNEL UNDER THE WALLS” AT LOWER DISASTER FALLS.]
[Illustration: _Copyright by Kolb Bros._
“EVERYTHING WAS WET.”]
Less than an hour later I repeated my brother’s performance, but I
was not so fortunate as he. The _Defiance_ was carried against one
rock as I tried to pull clear of another, and in an instant she
was on her side, held by the rush of water. I caught the gunwale,
and, climbing on to the rock that caused the disaster, I managed to
catch the rope and held the boat. In the meantime Emery was in a
whirlpool below, trying to land on the right side; but was having
a difficult time of it. Jimmy stood on the shore unable to help. The
bed was washed out of the boat and went bobbing over the waves, then
before I knew what had happened, the rope was jerked from my hands
and I was left stranded on my rock. Seeing this, Jimmy ran with all
his might for a pool at the end of the rapid, bravely rescuing the
boat and the bed as well, just as the _Edith_ was landed. A rope was
soon thrown to me, after the inevitable picture was made. Then I
jumped and was pulled to shore.
On making an inventory we found that our guns were lost from the
boat. Being too long to go under the hatches, they had been left in
the cockpit. The _Defiance_ had an ugly rap on the bottom, where she
struck a rock, the wood being smashed or jammed, but not broken out.
Nearly all material in the two boats was wet, so we took everything
out and piled it on a piece of canvas, spread out on the sand. We
worked rapidly, for another storm had been threatening all the
morning.
We were engaged in putting up our little tent when a violent wind
which swept up the canyon, followed by a downpour of rain interrupted
our work; and if anything missed a soaking before, it certainly
received it then. The sand was beaten into our cameras and everything
was scattered helter-skelter over the shore. We were fortunate in
only one respect. The wind was away from the river instead of toward
it. We finally got the tent up, then threw everything into it in an
indiscriminate pile, and waited for the storm to pass. Emery proposed
that we do a song and dance just to show how good we felt; but any
appearance of merriment was rather forced.
Had the builders of the boats been there, we fear they would have
had an uncomfortable half-hour; for nearly all this loss could have
been avoided had our instructions regarding the hatch covers been
followed. And for the sake of their saving a few dollars we had to
suffer!
The rain soon passed and we went to work, first starting a fire and
getting a hurried lunch, for we had not eaten our noon meal, and it
was then 4 P.M. We put up our dark-room tent, then went to work to
find what was saved, and what was lost. We were surprised to find
that all our small films and plates had escaped a soaking. Protected
in tin and cardboard boxes, wrapped with adhesive tape, and covered
with a coating of paraffine melted and poured over them, they had
turned the water in nearly every instance. The motion-picture film
was not so fortunate. The paraffine had worn off the tin boxes in
spots, the water soaked through the tape in some instances, and
entered to the film. One roll, tightly wrapped, became wet on the
edges; the gelatine swelled and stuck to the other film, thus sealing
the inner portion or picture part of the film, so that roll was
saved.
The motion-picture camera was filled with water, mud and sand; and
the other cameras fared likewise. We cleaned them out as best we
could, drying them over small alcohol lamp which we had included in
our duffle. Our job seemed endless. Jimmy had retired early, for he
could help us but little in this work. It rained again in torrents,
and the wind howled about the tent. After midnight, as we still
toiled, a land-slide, loosened by the soaking rains, thundered down
the mountain side about a fourth of a mile below our camp. We hoped
Jimmy would not hear it. We retired soon after this. Smaller slides
followed at intervals, descending over the 3000-foot precipices.
Thunder reverberated through the canyon, and altogether it was a
night long to be remembered. These slides made one feel a little
uncomfortable. “It would be most inconvenient,” as we have heard some
one say, “to wake in the morning and find ourselves wrapped up in a
few tons of earth and rock.”
Emery woke me the next morning to report that the river had risen
about six feet; and that my boat--rolled out on the sand but left
untied--was just on the Point of going out with the water. It had
proven fortunate for us all Emery was a light sleeper! There was no
travelling this day, as the boat had to be repaired. Emery, being the
ship’s carpenter, set to work at once, while Jimmy and I stretched
our ropes back and forth, and hung up the wet clothes. Then we built
a number of fires underneath and soon had our belongings in a steam.
Things were beginning to look cheerful again. The rain stopped, too,
for a time at least.
A little later Jimmy ran into camp with a fish which he had caught
with his hands. It was of the kind commonly called the bony-tail or
humpback or buffalo-fish, a peculiar species found in many of the
rivers of the Southwest. It is distinguished by a small flat head
with a hump directly behind it; the end of the body being round, very
slender, and equipped with large tail-fins. This specimen was about
sixteen inches long, the usual length for a full-grown fish of this
species.
Now for a fish story! On going down to the river we found a great
many fish swimming in a small whirlpool, evidently trying to escape
from the thick, slimy mud which was carried in the water. In a
half-hour we secured fourteen fish, killing most of them with our
oars. There were suckers and one catfish in the lot. You can judge
for yourself how thick the water was, that such mudfishes as these
should have been choked to helplessness. Our captured fish were given
a bath in a bucket of rain-water, and we had a fish dinner.
[Illustration: A COLORADO RIVER SALMON.]
[Illustration: LODORE CANYON AS SEEN FROM BROWN’S PARK.]
In the afternoon we made a test of the water from the river, and
found that it contained 20 per cent of an alkaline silt. When we had
to use this water, we bruised the leaf of a prickly pear cactus,
and placed it in a bucket of water. This method, repeated two or
three times, usually clears the muddiest water. We also dug holes in
the sand at the side of the river. The water, filtering through the
sand, was often clear enough to develop the tests we made with our
films.
Jimmy continued to feel downhearted; and this afternoon he told us
his story. Our surmise about his being homesick was correct, but it
was a little more than that. He had an invalid mother, it seemed,
and, aided by an older brother, he had always looked after the
needs of the family. When the proposition of making the river trip
came up, serious objections were raised by the family; but when the
transportation arrived he had determined to go, in spite of their
objections. Now he feared that his mother would not live, or that we
would be wrecked, and he would not know where to turn, or what to do.
No wonder he felt blue!
All we could do was to promise to help him leave the river at the
very first opportunity. This would quite likely be at Jensen, Utah,
still fifty miles farther downstream.
It continued to rain by spells that night and the next morning. About
11 A.M. we resumed our work on the river. A short distance below our
camp we saw the land-slide which we heard the night before--tons of
earth and shattered rock wrapped about the split and stripped trunks
of a half-dozen pines. The slide was started by the dislodged section
of a sheer wall close to the top of the 2700-foot cliff. We also
saw a boat of crude construction, pulled above the high-water mark;
evidently abandoned a great while before. Any person who had to climb
the walls at that place had a hard job to tackle, although we could
pick out breaks where it looked feasible; there were a few places
behind us where it would be next to impossible. We had only gone
over a few rapids when we found a long pool, with driftwood eddying
upstream, and knew that our run for the day was over--the Triplet
Rapids were ahead of us. We found this rapid to be about a fourth
of a mile long, divided into three sections as its name indicated,
and filled with great boulders at the base of a sheer cliff on the
right--another unrunnable rapid.
Taking the camp material from the boats, we carried it down and
pitched our tent first of all, then, while Emery prepared supper,
Jimmy and I carried the remaining duffle down to camp. One of the
boats was lined down also. Then after supper we enjoyed the first
rest we had taken for some time.
Camp Ideal we called it, and it well deserved the name. At the
bottom of a tree-covered precipice reaching a height of 2700 feet,
was a strip of firm, level sand, tapering off with a slope down to
the water, making a perfect landing and dooryard. A great mass of
driftwood, piled up at the end of the rapid, furnished us with all
fuel we needed with small effort on our part. Our tent was backed
against a large rock, while other flat rocks near at hand made
convenient shelves on which to lay our camp dishes and kettles.
It started to drizzle again that night, but what cared we? With a
roaring fire in front of the tent we all cleaned up for a change,
sewed patches on our tattered garments, and, sitting on our beds,
wrote the day’s happenings in our journals. Then we crawled into our
comfortable beds, and I was soon dreaming of my boyhood days when I
“played hookey” from school and went fishing in a creek that emptied
into the Allegheny River, or climbed its rocky banks; to be awakened
by Jimmy crying out in his sleep,
“There she goes over the rapids.”
Jimmy was soon informed that he and the boats were perfectly safe,
and I was brought back to a realization of the fact that I was not
going to get a “whaling” for going swimming in dog-days; but instead
was holed up in Lodore Canyon, in the extreme northwestern corner of
Colorado.