A lecture delivered on Saturday, April 26, in the National Museum,
Washington, D. C., by Major J. W. Powell, Director of the U. S.
Geological Survey.
The lecturer at the outset stated that the valley of the Columbia River
might be divided into two portions; the lower third lying but little
above the sea level, the other two-thirds of the valley area drained by
the Colorado and its tributaries being five to eight thousand feet above
the level of the sea.
On the summit and sides of the mountain were thousands of lakes of clear
water, which received their supply from the masses of snow which are
collecting throughout the winter on the mountain ranges, filling the
gorges and half burying the forests. In summer the snow melted and poured
down the mountain sides in millions of cascades, eventually forming the
Colorado River, which grew into a mad torrent ere it reached the Gulf
of California. Eventful indeed would be the history of these waters if
traced from their starting point. Some of these streams ran across arid
plateaus, being fed in their course by intermittent showers. Each year
their channels became deeper and deeper, cutting their way out of solid
rock. Every river, brook, creek and rill ran into a cañon, so that these
vast areas were traversed by a labyrinth of deep gorges hewn out of the
rock by the ever-flowing streams. If the Colorado plateau had been in
such a country as the District of Columbia, the land lying adjacent to
the river courses would have been washed down by the rains and streams,
and instead of cañons there would now be a broad system of valleys. It
was an error to regard that Colorado plateau as a region of great erosion
or degradation. It was a vast system of cañons, caused by the water
eating its way through the hard rock, with lofty stone walls on either
side.
Major Powell said that in 1867 and 1868 he had explored the Grand River
and other tributaries of the Colorado, and these expeditions thrilled him
with a desire to explore the vast cañons of the Colorado River itself.
Accordingly in May, 1869, he started for this purpose with a small party
of men and four boats from a point a few miles below where now the Union
and Pacific Railroad crosses Yukon River. The first forty or fifty miles
of their course was through low cañons, cut through the green and alcove
lands of that region. Their course was southward. As they descended
the river, a mountain seemed to stand athwart their path, and into this
mountain the river penetrated. They followed around the base for a
hundred miles or so, meeting the river beyond. Now, why had not the river
flowed _round_ the mountain instead of cutting its way _through_? The
answer was exceedingly simple. Because the river was there before the
mountain, and had the right of way, keeping steadfastly on its southward
course, across which the lands had been gradually elevated. These land
upheavals had taken place very slowly, enabling the river to force its
passage as the land rose inch by inch.
At last they reached the junction of the Grand and the Green rivers—the
head of the Colorado River—some three thousand feet below the general
surface of the country. At that point the cañon was about three thousand
feet in depth. One of the boats had been lost, and one of the men had
left them before reaching this point. The walls of the cañon here were
about half a mile high. One of these they determined to scale at a point
a little below their camp, where there was a gorge—a natural break in the
wall. Half way up further progress seemed impossible, but by crawling
round a narrow ledge of rock they were enabled to resume their toilsome
climb. From this point they could see the river fifteen hundred feet
below them, wildly rushing and tossing, and at the same distance above
them was the cañon’s brink that seemed to blend with the sky. Again the
wall was found to have broken down, but by crawling up a fissure so
narrow that they could press against the hinder side with their backs,
while forcing with hands and feet their steep and dangerous path upward,
they finally emerged into the upper world, where they could look out at
the broad expanse of landscape. Away to the north were orange and azure
cliffs, two and three thousand feet high; to the west were the Wasatch
Mountains, and a plateau with a hundred dead volcanoes on its back, while
to the east was another group of dead volcanoes. Thirty or forty miles
away in the same direction were seen forests of green and masses of gray
volcanic rock clothed with patches of snow; green, gray and silver,
resplendent in that noon-day sun. To the south was a labyrinth of cañons.
On the following day they commenced the exploration of the Colorado
River. From this starting point it was about seven hundred miles to the
foot of the Grand Cañon. Through the entire series of cañons the river
tumbled down more than 5,000 feet. The lecturer here stated that the fall
of the Mississippi from Cairo down was about four inches to the mile, and
of the Ohio some eight inches, and that the Colorado carried about as
much water as the Ohio at Louisville. In some places the river was wide,
and here its fall did not exceed that of the Ohio or Upper Mississippi.
The fall in Marble Cañon, however, was from ten to three hundred feet
to the mile! The boats, with the exception of the one in which he and
Major Powell traveled, were about twenty-two feet long and decked, so
that there were three water-tight compartments in each boat. His boat, in
which were two other men, was only sixteen feet in length. This led the
way, while the other boats, laden with provisions, etc., followed. The
roar of the water in the cañon could be heard a long way off. The chief
difficulty in navigating was riding the waves, which differed greatly
from that of the sea. In the case of the latter the water remained,
simply rising and falling, while the _form_ alone rolled on; but in the
former the water of the wave rolled on, the form being fixed. As long
as the boat could be kept on the waves, all was well, but the great
tendency was to drift into the whirlpool in the center. Three miles
below the junction of the Grand and the Green rivers appeared a series
of rapids and falls, and nearly two weeks were spent in running through
this difficult portion of the river. Having passed through Cataract
Cañon, they encountered Narrow Cañon, where the river for seven miles
rushed down a steep declivity. Seven miles again below a stream came in
on the right side. Up this the leading boat went, and one of the men,
in reply to a query from another in one of the boats following, as to
the nature of the water in this new stream, called out, “A dirty devil,”
and by that name it was designated on the maps. It was a stream of red
mud, having along its course hot mineral springs. The odor was fetid and
foul, resembling, as the lecturer graphically described it, “One of those
alabaster boxes of ointment with which they used to anoint abolitionists
in the brazen days of yore.” Below Narrow Cañon was Glen Cañon,
stretching for a hundred and fifty miles through homogeneous sandstone of
a beautiful color, its walls often perpendicular and indented with glens,
alcoves and caves. The latter were formed by the rain-showers running
down the sides of the wall, and slowly eating them away. At the foot of
the homogeneous sandstone was a soft, friable, crumbling sandstone, and
through this the river had cut some fifty miles of its course. In the
next cañon—Marble Cañon—was a series of cataracts and rapids which made
progress very difficult. Here the falls were too steep to be “run,” and
the boats were therefore let down by a line. First one was lowered, then
the second passed down to and beyond the first, and then the third past
the first and second.
When these falls had been passed, they found themselves at the head of
the Grand Cañon of the Colorado, which was about two hundred and seventy
miles long, varying from five to six thousand feet in depth. Here they
stopped several days to examine the cañon before entering it. Where
the rocks were sandstone the river was comparatively quiet, but where
limestone prevailed it presented a much more threatening appearance. In
some places the river was very narrow, the entire volume of water being
compressed into a width of not more than fifty feet. For a distance of
twenty or thirty miles a curious set of buttresses stood out from the
wall of the cañon, and between each two of these was a bay where the
waters would sweep around seething and boiling. Sometimes lofty pinnacles
of rock rose from the river’s bed, past which the boats darted with
fearful rapidity. Many days were spent in traversing this part of the
cañon. The weather was gloomy and much rain fell in showers, which in
that region had a very different effect from those which fall in our own
districts. There every drop was precipitated—as it were—into one vast
rain trough, soon causing the waters to swell. At first was heard in the
distance the patter of the drops on the rocks; then came the noise caused
by the rills and brooks hurrying their streams to the main river, and
louder yet the larger creeks and rivulets hurled their foaming waters,
soon swelling the river itself into a furious and maddening torrent. The
black clouds overhead appeared to be miles above them, mingling with the
very skies. Through this dark cañon they worked their way, examining
the rocks, toiling from daylight to dark. They were now living on half
rations, as the supplies of food were fast decreasing. Suddenly was seen
a fearful rapid, only three or four hundred yards below. A landing was
effected and the camp pitched on a projecting rock some fifty feet above
the water. The boats had to be hauled up out of the way of the torrent.
In continuing the journey on the following morning, great difficulty
was experienced in rounding this rock. The boats were pitched almost
against it, and instantly rebounded on the retiring water. A few days
later Diamond Cañon was reached. Here two streams came in, one from
either side. A fearful “fall” was in sight, which, after long and careful
consideration, it was determined to “run.” Here three of the men grew
faint-hearted and left the party. It was afterward learned that they had
fallen in with Indians and been killed.
The anxiety attending the resolution to “run” this “fall” was fearful.
The lecturer said that he paced up and down a little sand-plot all night
without sleeping or resting. In the morning rations were given to the
deserters, who determined to watch the fate of the rest of the party. The
“run” was successfully made, and it was hoped that the other three would
then be induced to follow. This, however, they would not do. On the next
day the most difficult point in the entire journey was reached, owing
to obstructions caused by lava rocks. In one place a dam was found, the
waters rushing over in a cataract. This it was also decided to “run,” on
the right hand side. The decision was however reversed when the fearful
danger of the attempt was realized. But already one of the boats had been
let down to the very head of the fall, where the men were attempting to
hold it by winding the rope around a great block of lava. There was one
man who had been a whaler—named Bradley—in the boat. The roar of the
waters was so deafening that no voice could be heard. At length he was
seen to take out his knife with perfect composure, and in an instant he
cut the rope, knowing that otherwise the boat would have been dashed to
pieces by striking heavily against the wall of the cañon. A moment later,
and he and the boat were hurled over the cataract, probably never to
be seen again. But a few moments later he appeared a few hundred yards
below, waving his hand. All haste was made to reach him, fearing he might
be severely bruised, but in the hurry to reach him one of the party (the
lecturer) fell overboard and was picked up by this invulnerable old
whaler.
On the next day the foot of the Grand Cañon was reached. Thence they
went to Virgin River, and from that point to Salt Lake, after which they
hastened home.
In conclusion, the lecturer said that if all the sands that had been
eroded by the rivers of that region, and washed into the ocean, could be
brought into one mass, they would form a rock one mile and a half thick,
and bigger than New York, New Jersey and Pennsylvania put together.