The Start. Leaving El Tovar promptly at 8:30 A. M., fortified with a good
breakfast, and suitably clothed, the trail party in a few minutes reaches
the head of Bright Angel Trail near Bright Angel Camp. For three-quarters
of a mile this trail descends, zigzagging back and forth until the top of
the cross-bedded sandstone is reached.
Faulting in the Sandstones. Here the visitor should not fail to observe the
faulting in the sandstone, there being a difference in the two sides of
about two hundred feet. Without this fault there would have been no trail,
for to the lifting up, or dropping down of the strata, is due their
shattered condition, which alone makes trail-building possible. When about
a mile down, the separation line between the cross-bedded sandstone and the
upper red sandstone is clearly revealed to the left of the trail.
By this time all timidity has vanished, and you implicitly trust both mule
and trail, even when going around that narrow ledge known as Cape Horn.
Now, immediately before us, the majestic pile known as the Battleship
presents itself with new power. The ship itself is composed of the red
sandstone. The base upon which it rests is the red-wall limestone.
A few feet further, and the cross-bedded sandstone may be seen far below on
the right, out of plumb with the same mass on the left, to which it
belongs, clearly showing that some convulsion of nature has either thrust
the mass on the left up, or forced the mass on the right down.
From this spot a fine view is had of the red-wall limestone below and the
Indian Garden; and, far below, at the end of Pipe Creek, the peculiar
folding of the Algonkian strata. This folding is also to be seen on the
other side of the river in the same rocks.
Trees, Flowers and Birds. While descending the first mile of trail, one
sees plenty of flowers and shrubs, and many Douglas spruces. These do not
exist on the rim, and, strange to say, the pines which abound there are
never found on the trail. One will generally hear the sweet descending
"pipe" of the canyon wren, and the harsh scolding of the blue-winged pinion
jay. Hawks, owls, mocking-birds and robins are often seen. Butterflies,
moths, and humming-birds wing their way to and fro and give a delicate
touch of life to the stern rocky features. Time was when the visitor at El
Tovar who went down the trail to the river might have seen mountain sheep,
bear, deer, antelopes and coyotes.
Jacob's Ladder. When the "blue lime"--the top of the red-wall limestone--is
reached, one may study a fine piece of real canyon trail-making, locally
called Jacob's Ladder. Here steps have been cut in the slippery and solid
rocks, in some places built up with timbers, and thus made perfectly safe.
It is customary for everybody to dismount here, so as to lighten the load.
The well-trained saddle mules of El Tovar stables go up and down this part
of the trail without hesitation.
Red-Wall Limestone. Standing on the summit of the red-wall limestone, we
are again forcefully reminded that it is the most prominent member of the
Grand Canyon strata. Its insistent mass is a thousand feet in thickness.
The face of this wall, close before us, is carved into numerous alcoves,
and as we near its base, we observe to the right a vast double-cornered
recess known as Angel Alcove. From here it is interesting to look up to the
rim and observe the peculiar and varied contour of the many pinnacles cut
by wind and storm out of the cherty limestone.
Buddha and Manu Temples. From this point, also, the first good view, from
below the rim, of Buddha Temple (seven thousand two hundred and eighteen
feet) is obtained. It is to the left of Bright Angel Creek. Now look
carefully at the ridge that leads the eye from Buddha Temple to Bright
Angel Creek. It appears to be a portion of the main wall of the Kaibab
Plateau. In reality it is three miles from the Kaibab wall, and, under
suitable conditions, may be seen as a massive temple, which has been named
Manu Temple (seven thousand one hundred and ninety-two feet), after the
great law-giver of the Hindoos.
Indian Garden and Cheops Pyramid. At the base of the red-wall limestone,
the trail opens up a little, and permits easier breathing by the tyro on
horseback; from now on to Indian Garden (three thousand eight hundred and
seventy-six feet) we ride in a boulder bed, where large blocks of rock of
every conceivable shape lie as they fell from the strata above. Small
shrubs and plants abound, and tiny lizards and inquisitive swifts dart to
and fro. Nearer to us is Cheops Pyramid (five thousand three hundred and
fifty feet), a massive monument, though less ornately carved than Buddha.
Isis and Shiva Temples. Above it and farther to the left, is Isis Temple
(seven thousand and twenty-eight feet), the cap of which, at this angle,
presents the appearance of two acorn-like structures resting upon their
cups, the taller of which is carved out of the cross-bedded sandstone. It
is the eastern supporter of Shiva Temple (seven thousand six hundred and
fifty feet), of which Captain Dutton, who named it, wrote eloquently and
vividly.
Brahma and Zoroaster Temples. Now turn the eye away from Shiva, across to
the east of Bright Angel Creek. There, outlined against the sky, are two
noble-profiled buttes. The rear one is Brahma Temple (seven thousand five
hundred and fifty-four feet), named after the first of the Hindoo triad,
the Supreme Creator. The smaller butte, an angular mass of solid,
unrelieved rock, sloping in a peculiarly oblique fashion, is Zoroaster
Temple (seven thousand one hundred and thirty feet), thus adding to the
Hindoo pantheon a fane for the founder of the religion of the
Irano-Persians.
Deva Temple, Obi, and Komo Points. Behind Brahma can be seen, when at the
right angle, a flat-topped detached mass (seven thousand three hundred and
forty-four feet) named Deva Temple. Behind and above it are two points, Obi
(eight thousand feet) to the right, and Komo, about the same height, to the
left. These are the salient points on Walhalla Plateau, overlooking the
Ottoman Amphitheatre, the chief temples of which I have already named.
Indian Garden. Passing now through the fertile Indian Garden, Angel Plateau
is reached. The spring at Indian Garden is large enough to irrigate a small
tract of ground. Experience has demonstrated that not only can vegetables
of every kind be grown here, but all kinds of fruits, even oranges, lemons
and grapefruit. For two miles after leaving the Garden, we ride over a
fairly level plateau to its edge, where it overlooks the Granite Gorge.
Here, standing on the Tonto sandstone (three thousand seven hundred and
eight feet), we look down into the dark recesses of the inner gorge, and
picture the events described by Major Powell, when he and his brave band of
intrepid explorers passed through.
O'Neill Butte. Now looking back to the rim at Yaki Point, we see beneath
it, and corresponding to the Battleship, an imposing structure. It has been
named O'Neill Butte, in honor of "Bucky" O'Neill, one of Roosevelt's Rough
Riders, who was slain during the heroic charge at San Juan Hill. He it was
who interested Eastern capitalists in the Anita Mine, and was therefore
indirectly responsible for the building of the Grand Canyon Railway.
Pipe Creek. Those who wish to go to the river now retrace a portion of the
way to the Indian Garden, and then turn off eastward by the old-time Indian
corn-storage houses. Here one obtains a fine view of the wild chaos of
metamorphosed rocks of Pipe Creek. It is a veritable Pluto's workshop,
where the rocks are twisted, burned, and tortured out of all semblance to
their original condition. They are made into cruel and black jagged ridges,
which seem eager to tear and rend you.
Falls of Willow Creek. In these forbidding rocks the Devil's Corkscrew
Trail has been cut, winding and twisting down, down, twelve hundred feet,
passing by a split in the rocks where the waters of Willow Creek make a
waterfall of over two hundred feet.
The Colorado River. At last the Colorado River is reached, and we are but
two thousand four hundred and thirty-six feet above the sea. El Tovar,
above, is six thousand eight hundred and sixty-six feet, and we have thus
descended four thousand four hundred and thirty feet, nearly a mile, from
rim to river. And what a river it is! No one can form any idea of it,
unless he stands on the very brink, almost deafened by the sound of its
sullen roar and turbulent rapids. It is hungry, insatiable, murderous,
cruel. Many a foolish mortal has had the breath dashed from his body by
these powerful waves. Those who wish to cross to the other side can defy
danger in the cable crossing, but only a skilled boatman should attempt to
row across.
Colorado Salmon. Fish are caught in the river here at times. The chief
variety is a scale-bearing fish, of silvery appearance, commonly known to
the local dwellers as Colorado salmon. Specimens have been caught two feet
eight inches in length, and sixteen inches in circumference, and a
fortunate fisherman brought one up to El Tovar, which was nearly three feet
in length.
Camping at the River. It is a delightful experience to remain over night
and sleep on the river sand, especially if the moon be at its full. Then
one sees great walking shadows--moving, living, palpable entities. Towers
and buttes and temples take on new qualities under the softer luminary of
the night.
Here, too, one gets to know the Canyon in a new phase. He is in the trough
between two ranges of mountains. To the north and to the south are towering
peaks. You forget that you have ridden down, down, to reach this spot. You
are in a new country. A majestic range of glorious peaks soars away above
you to the north. Now, by merely turning in the other direction, you see
another and entirely different range, with peaks, canyons, ravines, gorges,
points, ridges all its own.
The Return to El Tovar. Riding back to El Tovar, with thoughts like these,
the visitor imagines himself riding to a City Celestial. He reaches the
plateau, studies for a while the unique coloring of the Algonkian strata
just above the Granite Gorge, and sees where the faulting has raised them
above the Tonto sandstones. Then, steadily looking upward, he rides
forward, climbing slowly but surely to the peaks above. Tired though he is,
he feels a constant thrill of satisfaction as he rises higher and higher,
and when, at last, his animal lifts him to the level of El Tovar, and he
stands once more in his room at the hotel, he feels an exaltation
vouchsafed only to those who have dared and done an unusual thing. And this
the Canyon is! No matter how often the trip is made, the interest of it
never tires; the wonder of it never grows less.