The Canyon Rim. There are several rather remarkable and surprising points
of difference between the Canyon on the rim, and the Canyon in its depths.
Above, the whole Canyon region, save during the rainy season, is waterless,
and while not barren, owing to the growths made possible by winters' snows
and summers' rains, it is a veritable desert as far as water, whether in
streams, creeks, rivulets or springs, is concerned.
Drainage of the Canyon. On both sides of the Canyon, all the surface water
of the rains drains away from the Canyon for miles, and not until it has
flowed, perhaps from within a few feet of the edge of the abyss itself,
from twenty to a hundred miles, does it empty into the drainage channels
which, burrowing down into the earth, reconvey the water back, by
circuitous routes, into the depths of the Canyon, there to add to the flow
of the Colorado.
Rain at El Tovar. Take rain that falls, for instance, at El Tovar itself,
within sight of the Canyon. After a heavy storm, the visitor may see it
dashing down the Bright Angel Wash (up which the railway runs) to Bass
Station, where it turns and enters the narrower section of the Wash. It
flows in a general southwesterly direction, and enters the Coconino Wash,
which discharges into the open plain, once the bed of the great inland
Eocene Sea. Here it disappears.
An Underground Stream. In this plain are some breaks in the rocky bed,
which allow the water to flow down to join the underground current of the
Havasu (or Cataract) Creek, which runs on the northern slope of Bill
Williams Mountain. This underground stream (as explained in the chapter on
Havasu Canyon) emerges at the head of the village of the Havasupai Indians,
in a thousand springs, and then flows on, over several precipices, to the
lower levels, thus making the exquisite waterfalls that have rendered this
Canyon world-famous. It finally reaches the Colorado some fifteen miles
away, where its clear blue waters are soon lost in the muddy flood of the
"Red."
Water in the Canyon. After one has ridden in the hot summer sun over this
waterless region, and seen the waterwagons of the miners and sheep men, and
the great train of water-tanks being hauled for the guests at El Tovar, it
is a surprise and a wonder to find below, in the heart of this rocky-walled
Canyon, a mighty river dashing its headlong way to the west. Many a time,
after a week of riding horseback on the plateau above, until every particle
of moisture seemed to have evaporated from my body, have I gone down the
trail to the river and camped there, enjoying a swim several times a day,
and rowing up and down one of the quiet stretches, between the rapids,
where boating is not only possible but reasonably safe. In the Bright Angel
and the Shinumo on the north side, and the Havasu on the south side, one
may swim, or at least soak and paddle, in cooling waters, where waving
willows, giant sycamores, and green cottonwoods sway above the streams, and
rich verdure of great variety lines their banks. What a wonderful
contrast,--above and below!
Difference between the Rim and the River. Another remarkable difference, or
surprise, is found when one leaves the rim above, where the weather is
lovely and there is not a sign of rain, and go below to the river, which
gives evidence of a great rise. How can the river rise without rain? Yet it
seems to, and one almost doubts the evidence of his own senses.
Experience on the River. Engineer Stanton tells of an experience as his
party went through the river: "About 2:30 P. M. we heard a deep, loud
roar, and saw the breakers ahead in white foam. With a great effort we
stopped upon a pile of broken rock that had rolled into the river. When we
went ahead to look, much to our surprise, the whole terrible rapid that we
had expected to see had disappeared, and there was only a rushing current
in its stead. While we stood wondering, there rose right at our feet those
same great waves, twelve to fifteen feet in height and from one hundred to
one hundred and fifty feet long across the river, rolling down stream like
great sea waves, and breaking in white foam with terrible noise. We watched
and wondered and at last concluded that this was the forefront of a vast
body of water rolling down this narrow trough from some great cloud-burst
above. (We learned afterwards that there had been such a cloud-burst on the
head-waters of the Little Colorado.) Believing that discretion was the
better part of valor, we camped right there on that pile of rocks, fearing
that, although our boats would ride the waves in safety, we might be caught
in one of these rolls just at the head of a rapid, and, unable to stop, be
carried over the rapid with the additional force of the rushing breakers."
High and Low Water. The piles of driftwood found on the rocks in the Canyon
reveal a difference of upwards of two hundred feet between high and low
water. This, however, does not refer to the general condition of high
water, but to exceptional cases. As, for instance, I myself once saw a mass
of rock, the whole face of the cliff, containing doubtless millions of
tons, fall into the trough of the stream. The whole course was at once
dammed up, and the river rose sixty feet in one hour before the principal
mass of rock was made topheavy by the power of the flood. Then it rolled
over with the force of the millions of tons of water behind it, and
crumbled as it rolled. The mighty wave dashed on, carrying everything
before it. In less than another hour the rock mass had disappeared, and the
water had resumed its normal level. A rise of fifty to seventy feet is not
so very unusual in the heart of the gorge, where it is narrow and the
waters would necessarily pile up. To see such a rise, without any evidence
of a rain above, is a wonderful experience that one occasionally enjoys.
Snow on the Rim. Another remarkable contrast is observed by winter
tourists. On the rim at El Tovar, Grand View, or Bass Camp snow may fall
during December, January and February, and sometimes in March, though it
quickly disappears. This is not surprising when one considers the high
altitudes. The weather is then sometimes quite frigid, but it is a dry cold
which rapidly yields to the warm midday sun. Do not imagine from this
general statement that winter, as we know it in the East, is the usual
thing at the Canyon. Quite the reverse. There are more sunshiny, warm,
windless, stormless and no-snow days than otherwise, taking one year with
another. Real winter weather often stays away until well into January. Some
years it is a negligible quantity. At no time need it be feared by the
traveller.
Trails in Winter. The trails for half a mile, or even a mile, down into the
Canyon, during a part of the winter, are sometimes covered with light snow.
As soon as the snow line is passed, the climate begins to change. The cold
is less penetrating, and by and by one enters what might be called a
temperate zone. Warmer and more comfortable it becomes, until, on reaching
the river, the word "delicious" alone conveys the rich sense of
satisfaction that one feels all over the body in the delightful sensation
experienced. No time is so agreeable for a long stay in the depths of the
Canyon as in the heart of winter. A semi-tropical climate below, while
above, within three hours easy ride, a snowy winter may be reigning
supreme!
Winter in the Canyon. Robert Brewster Stanton, who made his successful trip
through the Canyon in wintertime, comments on this as follows: "It has been
the fortune of but few to travel along the bottom of the great chasm for a
whole winter, while around you bloom the sweet flowers, and southern birds
sing on almost every bush, and at the same time far above, among the upper
cliffs, rage and roar, like demons in the air, the grandest and most
terrific storms of wind and snow and sleet that I have ever witnessed, even
above the clouds among the summit peaks of the Rocky Mountains."
Change in the Flora. This climatic diversity above and below is noticeable
all through the year to the man or woman of sharp eyes, in the difference
of the flowers, the shrubs, and the trees. Above are the pines, the cedars,
and junipers of the cooler climes. The further down one goes, the greater
the change becomes. The pines drop out, then the cedars and junipers, and
when one reaches the patches of growth in the lowest depths, the agave, and
other plants and flowers that we find only in semi-tropical climates here
grow profusely.
Indian Garden. Another difference between the "above" and the "below" is
found in the fact that a garden is almost unknown on the rim, and that
there are many down below. On the Bright Angel Trail is the Indian Garden,
where, for many years, the Havasupais used to cultivate their corn, beans,
onions and melons. Along the Shinumo, on the north side, Mr. Bass has a
garden where all these things grow; where peaches, plums, grapes, and
apricots have thriven abundantly, and where now he is planting figs,
lemons, oranges and grape-fruit. The Havasupais, in the depths of their
Canyon, grow the finest, largest and most tender corn in the world,
peaches and figs galore, and all the ordinary vegetables. Boucher also has
fruit and vegetables on the level near the river, on his trail. At Lee's
Ferry also, Elder Emet has his gardens and orchards, as well as fine
alfalfa fields. Nothing is more delightful than to come, after a hot
journey down the trail, to these unexpected oases in the heart of the
canyons.
Soil on the River and in the Canyon. The soil of the "above," too,
largely differs from the soil of the "below." On the plateaus above, there
are millions of acres, most of which careful examination shows to be
covered with disintegrated rock and comparatively little vegetable soil,
except below the surface. The winds and rains have carried away the softer
and lighter soil, and allowed the heavier and harder rocks to remain. This
process goes on all the time. In the depths of the Canyon, however, except
on the steeper slopes, the soil remains.
The Silence on the Rim. A remarkable contrast between the rim and the
Canyon is sometimes found in the absolute silence above, and the roar of
the river below. It often occurs that not a sound of any kind can be heard
on the rim but one's breathing and the beating of his own heart. One
morning I lay for an hour before I arose, and during the whole of that
time, though I listened again and again, not the slightest sound reached my
ears save the two named.
Song of the River. Now descend to the river and, day or night, early or
late, June or December, hot or cold, wet or dry, fair or stormy, the roar
and rush, fret and fume of the water is never out of one's ears. Even when
asleep it seems to "seep" in through the benumbed senses, and tell of its
never-ending flow. After a few weeks of it, one comes away and finds he
cannot sleep. He misses it and finds himself unable to sleep away from the
accustomed noise.
The Wind. In nothing is the difference of "above" and "below" more
marked than in the wind. Last night on the rim the wind blew almost a gale.
The pines sang loudly, and one could hear their roar for miles. A dozen
times I awoke and listened to their weird music. If you go outdoors, the
wind plays with your hair, and tosses garments to and fro with frolicsome
glee, or even, at times, with apparent angry fury. There are times when the
wind comes toward you, on the rim, with a rapidity and force that are
startling. Every one has had the experience of hearing a military band
approaching from a distance.
As it comes nearer, the sound grows louder and louder, and if it approaches
with great rapidity, as for instance, in an automobile or a speeding
electric car, the music assails the ear with an increasing force that is a
surprise. It is just so with the noises of the wind at the rim of the
Canyon.
Now leave the rim and walk down the trail a couple of rods. All is quiet
and still. The change is startling m its suddenness. The wind may be
blowing far above you, and if you listen, you will hear its effect in the
trees, but here, where you stand, you are protected and sheltered.
Diversity of Color. Perhaps the greatest difference between the rim and the
interior of the Canyon is found in the diversity in color and feature
between them. While there is a fascination to the long, wide stretches of
plateau on the rim, and the forest has its attractive points, there are not
many prominent features (looking away from the Canyon) that would occupy
the attention of travellers. There is little striking in color, in scenery,
in rocky contour. Plains, trees, sky, clouds, sunset,--and nearly all is
said. But immediately one stands on the rim and looks below, all is
changed. Here is feature after feature that compels not only attention but
reverent homage. Color such as is seen nowhere else in the world on such a
grand scale; massive walls that have no counterpart; rock forms that dazzle
and bewilder; and an unfoldment of the stone book of creation that is alike
a joy and a pain, a delight and a sorrow, a something seen at a glance, and
that requires a lifetime to comprehend.