THE GULF OF CALIFORNIA
That the head of the Gulf of California has a big tide is well known.
Choked in a narrowing cone, the waters rise higher and higher as
they come to the apex, reaching twenty-five feet or over in a high
tide. This causes a tidal bore to roll up the Colorado, and from
all reports it was something to be avoided. The earliest Spanish
explorers told some wonderful tales of being caught in this bore and
of nearly losing their little sailing vessels.
This was my first experience with river tides. It was somewhat of a
disappointment to me that I could not arrange to be here at a high
tide, for we had come at the first quarter of the moon. Out on the
open sea one can usually make some headway by rowing against the ebb
or flow of the tide: here on the Colorado, where it flowed upstream
at a rate of from five to eight miles an hour, it was different. When
we reached the head of the tide, it was going out. Unfortunately for
us the day was gone when the current began to run strong. It hardly
seemed advisable to travel with it after dark. We might pass the
ranch, or be carried against a rock-bound coast, or find difficulty
in landing and be overwhelmed by the tidal bore. So when darkness
fell we camped pulling our boat out in a little slough to prevent it
from being carried away. Evidently we were too near the headwaters
for a tidal bore, for at eleven P.M. the waters turned and came back
as quietly as they ran out.
We launched our boat before the break of day, and for four hours
we travelled on a good current. The channel now had widened to a
half-mile, with straight earthy banks, about fifteen feet high. Still
there was no sign of a ranch, and it began to look to us as if there
was little likelihood of finding any.
The land was nearly level and except for a few raised hummocks on
which grew some scattered trees, it was quite bare. This was not only
because it did not get the life-giving water from the north, but
because at times it was submerged under the saline waters from the
south. Near the shores of the river, and extending back for fifty
feet, was a matted, rank growth of grass; beyond that the earth was
bare, baked and cracked by the burning sun. This grass, we found, was
a favorite resort of rattlesnakes. We killed two of them, a large one
and a vicious little flat-headed sidewinder.
All this land was the south rim of the silt dam, which extended from
the line of cliffs or mesa on the east to the mountains on the west.
The other rim, a hundred feet higher, lay at least fifty miles to the
north. Here was the resting-place of a small portion of the sediment
carved away by the Colorado’s floods. How deep it is piled and how
far it extends out under the waters of the Gulf would be hard to say.
We felt sure that we would get to the Gulf with this tide, but when
the time came for it to turn we were still many miles away. There was
nothing to do but to camp out on this sun-baked plain. We stopped a
little after 9.30 A.M. Now that we were nearing the Gulf we were sure
there would be a tidal bore. As we breakfasted a slight rushing sound
was heard, and what appeared to be a ripple of broken water or small
breaker came up the stream and passed on. This was a disappointment.
With high water on the river and with a low tide this was all the
tidal bore we would see.
In four hours the water rose fourteen feet, then for two hours the
rise was slower. Within three feet of the level it came. The opposite
side, rounded at the edges, looked like a thread on top of the water,
tapered to a single silken strand and looking toward the Gulf, merged
into the water. To all appearances it was a placid lake spread from
mountain to mesa.
Our smaller canteen was still filled with the fresh water secured
the evening before. The other had been emptied and was filled again
before the return of the tide, but considerable taste of the salt
remained. What we did now must be done with caution. So far we had
not seen the ranch. We were in doubt whether it was somewhere out on
the coast or back on one of the sloughs passed the evening before. We
had heard of large sail-boats being hauled from Yuma and launched by
the ranch. This would seem to indicate that it was somewhere on the
Gulf. We had provisions sufficient for one day, one canteen of fresh
water, and another so mixed with the salt water that we would not use
it except as a last resort.
A little after 3.30 P.M. the tide changed; we launched our boat and
went out with the flood. As we neared the mouth of the stream we
found that the inrush and outrush of water had torn the banks. Here
the river spread in a circular pool several miles across. It seemed
almost as if the waters ran clear to the line of yellow cliffs and to
the hazy mountain range. Then the shores closed in again just before
the current divided quite evenly on either side of a section of the
barren plain named Montague Island. We took the channel to the east.
Our last hope of finding the ranch was in a dried-out river channel,
overgrown with trees. But although we looked carefully as we passed,
there was no sign of a trail or of human life. Some egrets preened
their silken feathers on the bank; sand-hill cranes and two coyotes,
fat as hogs and dragging tails weighted with mud, feasted on the
lively hermit-crabs, which they extracted from their holes--and that
was all.
The sun, just above the lilac-tinted mountains, hung like a great
suspended ball of fire. The cloudless sky glared like a furnace. Deep
purple shadows crept into the canyons slashing the mountain range.
The yellow dust-waves and the mirages disappeared with the going down
of the sun. Still we were carried on and on. We would go down with
the tide. Now the end of the island lay opposite the line of cliffs;
soon we would be in the Gulf.
So ended the Colorado. Two thousand miles above, it was a beautiful
river, born of a hundred snow-capped peaks and a thousand crystal
streams; gathering strength, it became the masterful river which
had carved the hearts of mountains and slashed the rocky plateaus,
draining a kingdom and giving but little in return. Now it was going
under, but it was fighting to the end. Waves of yellow struggled
up through waves of green and were beaten down again. The dorsal
fins of a half-dozen sharks cut circles near our craft. With the
last afterglow we were past the end of the island and were nearing
the brooding cliffs. Still the current ran strong. The last vestige
of day was swallowed in the gloom, just as the Colorado was buried
’neath the blue. A hard wind was blowing, toward the shore; the sea
was choppy. A point of rocks where the cliffs met the sea was our
goal. Would we never reach it? Even in the night, which was now upon
us, the distance was deceptive. At last we neared the pile of rocks.
The sound of waters pounding on the shore was heard, and we hurriedly
landed, a half-mile above it, just as the tide turned.
The beach was a half-mile wide, covered with mud and sloughs. There
was no high shore. But an examination showed that the tide ran back
to the cliffs. One of us had to stay with the boat. Telling Phillipps
to get what sleep he could, I sat in the boat, and allowed the small
breakers which fox-chased each other to beat it in as the tide rose.
An arctic explorer has said that having an adventure means that
something unexpected or unforeseen has happened; that some one has
been incompetent. I had the satisfaction of knowing that the fault of
this adventure, if such it could be called, was mine. Here we were,
at our goal in Mexico, supposed to be a hostile land, with scant
provisions for one day. It was a hundred miles along the line of
cliffs, back to Yuma. So far, we had failed to find the ranch. It was
not likely that it was around the point of rocks. We knew now that
the Colorado channel was fifteen miles from the mouth of the river,
and was not a slough as we had supposed. Doubtless the ranch was up
there. Our best plan was to return to the head of the tide, going up
the Colorado, then if we did not find the ranch we would abandon the
boat, snare some birds, keep out of the scorching heat, and travel
in the morning and evening. Two active men should be able to do that
without difficulty.
[Illustration: STEAM VENTS AND MUD POTS BESIDE VOLCANIC LAKE, MEXICO.]
[Illustration: COCOPAH MOUNTAIN, MEXICO.]
So the hours passed, with the breakers driving the boat toward the
line of cliffs. When it had reached its highest point, I pulled into
a slough and tied up, then woke Al as we had agreed. While I slept,
he climbed the cliffs to have a last look. An hour after daybreak
he returned. Nothing but rock and desert could be seen. We dragged
the boat down in the slime of the slough until we caught the falling
tide. Then Al rigged up his sail. With the rising sun a light breeze
blew in from the Gulf. Here was our opportunity. Slowly we went
up against the falling tide. Then as the breeze failed, the tide
returned. Fifty feet away a six foot black sea bass floated; his
rounded back lifted above the water. With the approach of the boat he
was gone. The sharks were seen again.
Two hours later we had entered the mouth of the river carried by the
rising tide. Several miles were left behind. Another breeze came up
as the tide failed, and the sail was rigged up again. Things were
coming our way at last. Al knew how to handle a boat. Running her in
close to the top of the straight falling banks I could leap to the
land, take a picture, then run and overtake the boat, and leap on
again.
Then the wind shifted, the tide turned, and we tied up, directly
opposite the point where we had camped the afternoon before. It was
the hottest day we had seen Whirlwinds, gathering the dust in slender
funnels, scurried across the plains. Mirages of trees bordering
shimmering lakes and spreading water such as we had come through
below Yuma were to be seen, even out towards the sea. Then over
toward the cliffs where the old Colorado once ran we saw a column
of distant smoke. Perhaps it was a hunter; it could hardly be the
ranch. As we could do nothing with the boat, we concluded to walk
over that way. It was many miles distant. Taking everything we had,
including our last lunch, we started our walk, leaving a cloth on a
pole to mark the point where our boat was anchored. But after going
four miles it still seemed no nearer than before, so we returned. It
was evening. The water was drinkable again; that was something to be
thankful for. By ten o’clock that night the tide would come up again.
After dark we found that our boat was being beached. So we ran it
down and began pulling it along over a shoal reaching far out from
the shore. As we tugged I was sure I heard a call somewhere up the
river. What kind of a land was this! Could it be that my senses were
all deceiving me as my eyes were fooled by the mirage? I had heard
it, Al had not, and laughed when I said that I had. We listened and
heard it again, plainly this time, “Can’t you men find a landing? We
have a good one up here,” it said.
We asked them to row down, advising them to keep clear of the shoal.
We waded out, guided by their voices, in the pitch darkness and
neared the boat.
One shadowy form sat in either end of a flat-bottomed boat. There was
a mast, and the boat was fitted for two oarsmen as well. Evidently
the load was heavy, for it was well down in the water. The sail
cloth was spread over all the boat, excepting one end where there
was a small sheet-iron stove, with a pan of glowing wood coal
underneath. The aroma of coffee came from a pot on the stove. As
I steadied myself at the bow I touched a crumpled flag,--Mexican,
I thought,--but I could not see. Both figures sat facing us, with
rifles in their hands, alert and ready for a surprise. Smugglers! I
thought; guns, I imagined. They could not see our faces in the dark,
neither could we distinguish theirs. Judging by their voices they
were young men. I thought from the first that they were Mexicans,
but they talked without accent. They could see that we carried no
arms, but their vigilance was not relaxed. They asked what our
trouble was and we told them of the beached boat, what we had been
doing, and why we were there. They said they were out for a little
sight-seeing trip down in the Gulf. They might go to Tiburone Island.
One of them wondered if it was true that the natives were cannibals.
He said he would not care about being shot, but he would hate to be
put in their stew-pot. We asked them how much water they carried. A
fifteen-gallon keg was all They hoped to get more along the coast. It
is quite well known there is none. They professed to be uninformed
about the country, did not know there was a ranch or a tidal bore,
and thanked us for our information about the tides, and the advice
to fill their keg when the water was lowest, which would be in half
an hour. They could not sell any provisions, but gave us a quart of
flour.
As we talked an undermined bank toppled over, sounding like shots
from a gun. One cocked his rifle on the impulse, then laughed when
he realized what it was. Just before we parted one of them remarked,
“You came through the Bee River four days ago, near a telephone,
didn’t you?” “Yes, but we didn’t see any one,” I replied.
“No? But we saw you!” And we felt the smiles we could not see.
They said the large ranch had some Chinamen clearing the highest
ground, and building levees around it to keep the water out. The
telephone and a motor boat connected the different ranches. Their
advice to us was to keep to the river, not to look for the ranch, but
to get on the telephone and raise a racket until some one showed up.
Then we parted to go to our respective landings, with mutual wishes
for a successful journey. The boat was pulled down. The tide was
on the point of turning, but it would be an hour before there
would be any strength to it. I went to shore and built a fire of
some driftwood, for the long stand in the water had chilled me.
Al stayed with the boat. Earlier in the day, I cautiously shook
the sticks loose from the matted grass, fearing the rattlers which
were everywhere. In this case nothing buzzed. But I had no sooner
got my fire well started when a rattler began to sing, roused by
the light and the heat, about twenty feet away. My fire was built
beside one of the many sloughs which cut back through the grass and
ended in the barren soil. These sloughs were filled with water when
the tide was in and made ideal landing places, especially if one
had to avoid a big tidal bore. Getting on the opposite side of the
fire, I tossed a stick occasionally to keep him roused. Soon another
joined, and between them they made the air hum. By this time I was
thoroughly warmed and felt that the boat would be the best place for
me. Carefully extinguishing my fire, I went down to the river just
as the tide returned. Without any sign or call from the shore we
were carried up with the tide. We were both weary but I dared not
sleep, so I merely kept the boat away from the shores and drifted,
while Phillipps slept. I had picked out a guiding star which I little
needed while the current was running strong, but which would give us
our course when the tide changed, for we could be carried out just as
easily.
But an hour after we left our camp another light appeared, growing
larger and larger. It was one of two things. Either my fire was not
extinguished, or a match thrown down by one of the others had fired
the deep dry grass. I consoled myself that it could not spread,
for the sloughs and the barren soil would cut it off. I had a grim
satisfaction when I thought of the snakes and how they would run for
the desert land. This was a real guiding star, growing larger and
larger as we were carried up the stream. I slept on shore when the
tide would take us no farther. Phillipps got breakfast. We were now
about three miles from the slough. After breakfast we alternately
towed the boat, for there was no wind to carry us up this morning,
and two hours later arrived at the diverging streams. Near by we saw
some mules showing evidence of having been worked. It was clear now
that the ranch was near. There was still a chance that we would take
the wrong stream. Over on the opposite side was a tall cottonwood
tree. This I climbed, and had the satisfaction of seeing some kind of
a shed half a mile up the east stream. The land between proved to be
a large island. As we neared the building two swarthy men emerged and
came down to the shore. “Buenos días,” Al called as we pulled in to
the landing.
“Buenos días, Señor,” they answered with a smile.
They were employees of the Rancho La Bolsa, which was a half-mile up
the stream.
[Illustration: TEN MILES FROM THE GULF OF CALIFORNIA. COMING UP ON A
TWENTY-FOOT TIDE.]
[Illustration: SUNSET ON THE LOWER COLORADO RIVER.]
Did we make the big fire which had burned until morning?
Our answer seemed to relieve their minds.
What would we do with our boat? It was theirs to do with as
they pleased. Leading two horses from out of the building, they
mounted and told us to climb on behind, and away we rode across
some water-filled sloughs. Hidden in the trees we came to the
buildings--three or four flat-topped adobe houses. Some little brown
children scattered to announce our coming.
As we dismounted two white men approached. “Why, hello, Phillipps!”
the ranch boss said when he saw my companion. “This is a long walk
from Yuma. You fellows are just in time to grub!”
THE END
FOOTNOTES:
[1] The various expeditions which are credited with continuous or
complete journeys through all the canyons and the dates of leaving
Green River, Wyoming, are as follows:
Major Powell, 1st journey. May 24, 1869.
Major Powell, 2nd journey. May 22, 1871. Discontinued at Kanab Canyon
in the Grand Canyon.
Galloway. Sept. 20, 1895 and 1896.
Flavell. Aug. 27, 1896.
Stone. Sept. 12, 1909.
Kolb. Sept. 8, 1911.
For a more complete record of the earlier parties see appendix.
[2] The initials E. C. apply to my brother, Emery C. Kolb; E. L. to
myself. These initials are frequently used in this text. For several
years the nick-name “Ed” has been applied to me, and in my brothers’
narratives I usually figure as Ed.
[3] It is not unusual for certain individual animals to be outlawed
or to have a price set on their heads by the stockmen’s associations,
in addition to the regular bounty paid by the counties. At the time
this is written there is a standing reward of $200 for a certain
“lobo,” or timber wolf which roams over the Kaibab Forest directly
opposite our home in the Grand Canyon. In addition to this there is a
bounty of $10 offered by the county. This wolf has taken to killing
colts and occasional full-grown horses, in addition to his regular
diet of yearling calves.
[4] Brown-Stanton. May 25, 1889.
Russell-Monnette. Sept. 20, 1907.
For a more complete record of these expeditions, as well as others
who attempted the passage of the canyons below this point, see
appendix.
[5] Left by the Stone expedition.
[6] While Major Powell was making his second voyage of exploration,
another party was toiling up these canyons towing their boats from
the precipitous shores. This party was under the leadership of
Lieutenant Wheeler of the U.S. Army. The party was large, composed
of twenty men, including a number of Mojave Indians, in the river
expedition, while others were sent overland with supplies to the
mouth of Diamond Creek. By almost superhuman effort they succeeded
in getting their boats up the canyon as far as Diamond Creek. While
there is no doubt that they reached this point, there were times
when we could hardly believe it was possible when we saw the walls
they would have to climb in this granite gorge. In some places there
seemed to be no place less than five hundred feet above the river
where they could secure a foothold. Their method was to carry a rope
over these places, then pull the boats up through the rapids by main
force. It would be just as easy to pull a heavy rowboat up the gorge
of Niagara, as through some of these rapids. Their best plan, by far,
would have been to haul their boats in at Diamond Creek and make the
descent, as they did after reaching this point. The only advantage
their method gave them was a knowledge of what they would meet with
on the downstream run. Lieutenant Wheeler professed to disbelieve
that Major Powell had descended below Diamond Creek, and called his
voyage the completion of the exploration of the Colorado River. In a
four days’ run they succeeded in covering the same distance that had
taken four weeks of endless toil, to bring their boats up to this
point.
[7] See appendix, History of Cataract Canyon.
APPENDIX
The parties who have made extended voyages through one or more of
the canyons of the Green and Colorado rivers, and the order of their
leaving, according to Dellenbaugh, are as follows:
Major J. W. Powell left Green River, Wyoming, May 24, 1869; arrived
at the Virgin River with five of his party, six in all, Aug. 30,
1869--was met there by some Mormons who had been ordered to be on the
lookout by Brigham Young. The party were distributed as follows:
The boats: 1. _Emma Dean._ J. W. Powell, John C. Sumner,
Wm. H. Dunn.
2. _Kitty Clyde’s Sister._ Walter Powell, G. Y.
Bradley.
3. _No Name._ O. G. Howland, Seneca Howland,
Frank Goodman.
4. _Maid of the Canyon._ Wm. R. Hawkins,
Andrew Hall.
Notes. F. Goodman left the party at the Mouth of the Uinta. The _No
Name_ was wrecked in Lodore Canyon. O. G. Howland, Seneca Howland,
and Wm. H. Dunn left the party when about twenty-five miles from
the mouth of the Grand Canyon, and were killed by the Shewits Utes
near Mt. Dellenbaugh. Sumner and Hall went on down to the Gulf of
California.
The second Powell expedition left Green River, Wyoming, May 22,
1871, taking advantage of the high water, which is desirable on
the Green River. They arrived at the Mouth of the Paria, Oct. 22,
1871. Starting again from the Paria (Lee’s Ferry) Aug. 17, 1872,
they passed through Marble Canyon and nearly 100 miles of the Grand
Canyon, reaching the mouth of Kanab Canyon Saturday, Sept. 7, 1872.
Here the voyage was discontinued on account of high water, rising
higher each day. The crews of this party were distributed as follows:
1871. 1. _Emma Dean._ J. W. Powell, S. V. Jones, F. S.
Dellenbaugh, J. K. Hilliers.
2. _Nellie Powell._ A. H. Thompson, John F. Steward,
F. M. Bishop, F. C. A. Richardson.
3. _Canonita._ E. O. Beaman, W. Clement Powell,
Andrew C. Hatton.
Notes. Richardson left in Brown’s Park; Beaman, Steward, and Bishop
at the end of the first season. The boats had been badly pounded, the
_Nellie Powell_ very much so, and she was left at Lee’s Ferry. The
party proceeded as follows:
1872. 1. _Emma Dean._ J. W. Powell, S. V. Jones, F. S.
Dellenbaugh, J. K. Hilliers.
2. _Canonita._ A. H. Thompson, W. Clement
Powell, A. C. Hatton.
H. M. Hook with fifteen miners in crude boats left Green River,
Wyoming, June 1, 1869. H. M. Hook and one other were drowned in Red
Canyon, and the expedition was abandoned.
Earlier parties to attempt descent: 1825--Wm. H. Ashley and party to
Brown’s Park. 1849--Wm. L. Manly and party to Uintah Valley. The name
D. Julien, Mai 1836, occurs carved in the walls in Labyrinth Canyon,
and again in Cataract Canyon. No further record at present.
BROWN-STANTON
This expedition left Blake (Green River, Utah) May 25, 1889, 16 men
with 6 boats (very light). The entire party was Frank M. Brown,
chief, Robert Brewster Stanton, chief engineer, John Hislop, C. W.
Potter, T. P. Rigney, E. A. Reynolds, J. H. Hughes, W. H. Bush,
Edward Coe, Edward ----, Peter Hansborough, Henry Richards, G. W.
Gibson, Charles Porter, F. A. Nims, T. C. Terry.
Notes. Brown, Hansborough, and Richards were drowned in Marble
Canyon. The expedition was temporarily abandoned in lower Marble
Canyon. Hughes, Terry, and Rigney left at Glen Canyon, Reynolds left
at Lee’s Ferry, and Harry McDonald joined the party.
STANTON
Stanton re-outfitted with heavy boats, 22 feet long, and began the
second trip in Glen Canyon. This party included R. B. Stanton,
Langdon Gibson, Harry McDonald, Elmer Kane, John Hislop, F. A. Nims,
Reginald Travers, W. H. Edwards, A. B. Twining, H. G. Ballard, L. G.
Brown, and James Hogue. They entered the head of Marble Canyon Dec.
28, 1889, and finished at tide water in the Gulf of California, Apr.
26, 1890. One boat wrecked in the Grand Canyon. Purpose of trip,
survey for a railroad.
Notes. Nims had a fall in Marble Canyon, which broke his leg. He
was taken out over a 1700-foot wall and carried over the plateau to
a point where he could be hauled out by wagon. McDonald left the
expedition near the upper end of the Grand Canyon, Hogue and one
other left at Diamond Creek.
GALLOWAY
Nathan Galloway left Green River, Wyoming, in the autumn of 1895 and
went to Lee’s Ferry. Late in 1896 N. Galloway and Wm. Richmond left
Henry’s Fork, Wyoming, and reached Needles, Feb. 10, 1897. Galloway
passed down as far as the Uintah Valley five times, and through
Desolation and Gray canyons seven times, through Cataract three
times, and the Grand Canyon, once before making the trip with Julius
F. Stone. Galloway was a trapper.
FLAVELL
On Aug. 27, 1896, George F. Flavell and one companion, name unknown,
started from Green River, Wyoming, and went to Yuma, Arizona, which
was reached Dec. 1896. They had one boat; flat-bottomed. Little is
known about this expedition. Prospector or trapper?
RUSSELL-MONNETTE
Charles S. Russell, E. R. Monnette, and Bert Loper, in three steel
boats, left Blake (Green River), Utah, Sept. 20, 1907. Russell
and Monnette reached Needles in Feb. 1908 with one boat. Purpose,
prospecting.
Notes. Loper’s boat was punctured in the lower end of Cataract
Canyon, and he held up to repair while the others continued to
prospect as far as Lee’s Ferry. After a long wait they proceeded with
the trip. Loper arrived shortly after, but discontinued the trip when
he found he was left behind. A second boat was lost in the Hance
Rapid. The third boat was torn away from them, while lining it in the
Hermit Creek Rapid. They climbed the granite, and followed a trail
which took them to the camp of L. Bouchre, a prospector. The boat
was found the next day with three holes in its side, in a whirlpool
five miles below the Hermit Creek Rapid. The boat was repaired and
the voyage completed to Needles.
STONE
Julius F. Stone of Columbus, Ohio, accompanied by Nathan T. Galloway,
Chas. S. Sharp, S. S. Denbeudorff, and R. A. Cogswell (Photographer),
outfitted with four flat-bottomed boats, left Green River, Wyoming,
Sept. 12, 1909, and reached Needles Nov. 15, 1909, with all boats in
good condition, and with the remarkable record for Stone and Galloway
of having brought their two boats through without an upset.
Notes. Sharp discontinued the trip at Glen Canyon, and one boat was
left at this place. Purpose, photographic exploration.
KOLB
On Sept. 8, 1911, Emery C. Kolb, James Fagin, and Ellsworth L. Kolb,
outfitted with two flat-bottomed boats, left Green River and arrived
at Bright Angel Trail, Nov. 16, 1911. James Fagin left the party at
the mouth of Lodore Canyon. On Dec. 19, Herbert Lauzon joined the
party at the Grand Canyon for the trip to Needles; Ernest V. Kolb was
taken along for a twenty-five mile ride to the end of the Bass Trail.
Lauzon finished the trip at Needles with the Kolb brothers, Jan. 18,
1912. Purpose, moving pictures and photographs. In May, 1913, E. L.
Kolb made the trip from Needles to the Gulf, travelling on the high
water and making the 400-mile run in 8 days.
THE HISTORY OF CATARACT CANYON
J. S. Best and party left Green River, Utah, July 10, 1891. Wrecked
in Cataract Canyon. No lives lost.
There are incomplete records of nine parties who have attempted
to pass through Cataract Canyon, and who undoubtedly met with
fatalities. On two occasions a single member escaped and reached the
Hite ranch in a famished condition.
John Vartan, an Armenian prospector, lost his boat and barely
succeeded in escaping. His clothes were made into a rope by which he
dropped from a ledge to a canyon, through which he reached the Land
of Standing Rocks. He was found after weeks of exposure, during which
time he lived on plants and roots. He was nursed back to life, but
never gave a very clear account of his experiences.
A. G. Turner, the Glen Canyon prospector, made a successful passage
through the rapids of this canyon in 1907.
The Stone expedition found a wrecked boat and fresh tracks of three
persons, one of these being a boy’s tracks, on the shore. No further
trace of them has been discovered.
Charles Smith wrote us that he succeeded in getting through after we
saw him in 1911.
In 1912 Smith and Galloway combined and passed through in safety.
Near Dark Canyon they found the decomposed body of a man on a rock in
mid-stream. From odors, they judged there were other bodies in other
places not far from this find.
Just before this book goes to press we have received two letters, one
from Mr. J. F. Stone, stating that Galloway had died a natural death.
Another letter is from John Hite, informing us that his brother Cass
Hite was dead. In the same letter he states that Smith left Blake,
Utah, for the third time, in November, 1913, and had never showed up
at his home. Later he and Loper found half of his wrecked boat. A
full heart pays tribute to the memory of Smith.
So it goes on from year to year. Judging by these experiences it
would seem that the carefully planned expeditions, especially those
with covered boats containing air chambers, succeed in getting
through.
The writer believes that a passage can be made through Cataract
Canyon, in low water, without being compelled to run more than one or
two bad rapids, if great care is taken while crossing from one shore
to the other between the rapids. With a light canvas boat, or with
a canoe in the hands of experts, it might be possible to avoid them
all, but I would not care to be so quoted, as I am a little uncertain
about the two last bad rapids. This would not be possible in Marble
or the Grand Canyon. The last mentioned contains many rapids as bad
as any in Cataract Canyon. We find that all those who have made
successful passages are infatuated with their type of boat. All we
will claim for our type, which came to us through Stone and Galloway,
is that three expeditions have used this type of boat, and they
all--with the exception of one in perfect condition left by Stone’s
party with Hite--finished at Needles. But whether made of steel,
wood, or canvas, all boats should be decked as much as possible to
keep out the powerful waves, and should contain large air chambers.
Rowlocks, oars, paddles, and ropes should be carefully guarded
against breakage and loss.
The flood stage on the Colorado River, about 300,000 cubic second
feet, exceeds that on the St. Lawrence River at Niagara Falls, which
carries about 250,000 cubic second feet. The descent in many rapids
on the Colorado equals that of any section of the St. Lawrence,
excepting Niagara Falls. In the low water stage, the rapids lose much
of their strength of current and violence of waves, and the flow is
only a small fraction of the flood stage.
The deepest canyons of the Green and Colorado rivers, their length,
approximate depth, and the fall of the river are as follows. These
figures are compiled from “A Canyon Voyage,” U. S. G. S. maps, and
other sources.
================+=========+==============+===========
|LENGTH IN|GREATEST DEPTH|APPROXIMATE
| MILES | IN FEET | DESCENT
----------------+---------+--------------+-----------
Flaming Gorge ⎫ | | |
Horseshoe ⎬ | 35 | |
Kingfisher ⎪ | | |
Red ⎭ | | 2700 | 350
Lodore | 20½ | 2700-3000[8] | 425
Whirlpool | 14 | 2200 | 140
Split Mountain | 9 | 2000 | 90
Desolation | 97 | 2700 | ⎫
Gray | 36 | 2000 | ⎭ 550[9]
Cataract | 41 | 2700-3000[10]| 430
Marble | 65½ | 3500 | 480
Grand Canyon | 217 | 5000-6000[11]| 1850
================+=========+==============+===========
The entire distance from Green River, Wyoming, to the tide water is
something over 1600 miles. The descent is a little over 6000 feet.
About 4300 feet of this descent occurs in 500 miles of the canyons
listed above; 2330 feet comes in Marble Canyon and the Grand Canyon,
the two combined making an unbroken canyon of 283 miles.
FOOTNOTES:
[8] Peaks close to the canyon reach a height of 3000 ft. above the
river.
[9] The upper half of Desolation Canyon has no rapids.
[10] Maps give depth as 2700 ft. We believe some walls are higher.
[11] Greatest depth on the south side of the Grand Canyon is near
5000 ft., on the north rim about 6000 ft.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE:
Words may have multiple spelling variations or inconsistent
hyphenation in the text. These have been left unchanged, as were
jargon, dialect, obsolete and alternative spellings. Footnotes were
renumbered sequentially and were moved to the end of the book. Seven
misspelled words were corrected. Spelling of Pittsburg was not
changed, as the official spelling lacked an ‘h’ until 1911. Denis
Julien, mentioned in the appendix, was a French-Canadian who left at
least eight inscriptions on rock walls in Utah and Colorado. Spelling
of his name was changed from Julian to Julien, but the French
spelling of ‘Mai’ was not changed.