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 • o V 
 
 
Through the Grand Canyon 
 from Wyoming to Mexico 
 
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
 
 NBW YORK • BOSTON ' CHICAGO • DALLAS 
 ATLANTA • SAN FRANCISCO 
 
 MACMILLAN & CO., Limited 
 
 LONDON • BOMBAY • CALCUTTA 
 MELBOURNB 
 
 THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd. 
 
 TORONTO 
 
'%»- 
 
 Copyright by Kolb Bros. 
 THE GRAND CANYON AT THE MOUTH OF HA VA SU CREEK 
 
Through the Grand Canyon 
 from ffyoming to Mexico 
 
 By 
 
 E. L. Kolb 
 
 With a Foreword by Owen Wister 
 
 With y2 Plates from Photographs 
 by the Author and his brother 
 
 New Tork 
 
 The Macmillan Company 
 ig2o 
 
 All rights reserved 
 

 Copyright, 1914, 
 Bv THE MACMILLAN COMPANY, 
 
 Set up and electrotyped. Published October, 1914. Reprinted 
 December, 1914. New edition published June, October, 1915. 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 A, 
 
 'y] 
 
 J. S. Gushing Co. — Berwick & Smith Oo. 
 Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. 
 
 ^ 
 
DeMcation 
 
 TO THE MANY FRIENDS 
 
 WHO " PULLED " FOR US, IF NOT WITH US 
 
 DURING THE ONE HUNDRED ONE DAYS OF OUR RIVER TRIP 
 
 THIS VOLUME 
 
 IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED 
 
FOREWORD 
 
 It is a dogged courage of which the author of this book 
 is the serene possessor — shared equally by his daring brother ; 
 and evidence of this bravery is made plain throughout the 
 following pages. Every youth who has in him a spark of 
 adventure will kindle with desire to battle his way also from 
 Green River to the foot of Bright Angel Trail ; while every 
 man whose bones have been stiffened and his breath made 
 short by the years, will remember wistfully such wild tastes 
 of risk and conquest that he, too, rejoiced in when he was 
 young. 
 
 Whether it deal with the climbing of dangerous peaks, or 
 the descent (as here) of some fourteen hundred miles of water 
 both mysterious and ferocious, the well-told tale of a perilous 
 journey, planned with head and carried through with daunt- 
 less persistence, always holds the attention of its readers and 
 gives them many a thrill. This tale is very well told. Though 
 it is the third of its kind, it differs from its predecessors more 
 than enough to hold its own : no previous explorers have 
 attempted to take moving pictures of the Colorado River with 
 themselves weltering in its foam. More than this : while the 
 human race lasts it will be true, that any man who is lucky 
 enough to fix upon a hard goal and win it, and can in direct 
 and simple words tell us how he won it, will write a good book. 
 
X FOREWORD 
 
 Perhaps this planet does somewhere else contain a thing 
 like the Colorado River — but that is no matter ; we at any 
 rate in our continent possess one of nature's very vastest 
 works. After The River and its tributaries have done with 
 all sight of the upper world, have left behind the bordering 
 plains and streamed through the various gashes which their 
 floods have sliced in the mountains that once stopped their 
 way, then the culminating wonder begins. The River has 
 been flowing through the loneliest part which remains to us 
 of that [large space once denominated " The Great American 
 Desert" by the vague maps in our old geographies. It has 
 passed through regions of emptiness still as wild as they were 
 before Columbus came ; where not only no man lives now 
 nor any mark is found of those forgotten men of the cliffs, 
 but the very surface of the earth itself looks monstrous and 
 extinct. Upon one such region in particular the author of 
 these pages dwells, when he climbs up out of the gulf in whose 
 bottom he has left his boat by the River, to look out upon a 
 world of round gray humps and hollows which seem as if it 
 were made of the backs of huge elephants. Through such a 
 country as this, scarcely belonging to our era any more than 
 the mammoth or the pterodactyl, scarcely belonging to time 
 at all, does the Colorado approach and enter its culminating 
 marvel. Then, for 283 miles it inhabits a nether world of its 
 own. The few that have ventured through these places and 
 lived are a handful to those who went in and were never seen 
 again. The white bones of some have been found on the 
 
FOREWORD xi 
 
 shores; but most were drowned; and in this water no bodies 
 ever rise, because the thick sand that its torrent churns along 
 clogs and sinks them. 
 
 This place exerts a magnetic spell. The sky is there 
 above it, but not of it. Its being is apart ; its climate ; its 
 light ; its own. The beams of the sun come into it like vis- 
 itors. Its own winds blow through it, not those of outside, 
 where we live. The River streams down its mysterious 
 reaches, hurrying ceaselessly ; sometimes a smooth sliding 
 lap, sometimes a falling, broken wilderness of billows and 
 whirlpools. Above stand its walls, rising through space upon 
 space of silence. They glow, they gloom, they shine. Bend 
 after bend they reveal themselves, endlessly new in endlessly 
 changing veils of colour. A swimming and jewelled blue pre- 
 dominates, as of sapphires being melted and spun into skeins 
 of shifting cobweb. Bend after bend this trance of beauty 
 and awe goes on, terrible as the Day of Judgment, sublime 
 as the Psalms of David. Five thousand feet below the opens 
 and barrens of Arizona, this canyon seems like an avenue con- 
 ducting to the secret of the universe and the presence of the 
 gods. 
 
 Is much wonder to be felt that its beckoning enchantment 
 should have drawn two young men to dwell beside it for many 
 years ; to give themselves wholly to it ; to descend and ascend 
 among its buttressed pinnacles ; to discover caves and water- 
 falls hidden in its labyrinths ; to climb, to creep, to hang in 
 mid-air, in order to learn more and more of it, and at last 
 
xii FOREWORD 
 
 to gratify wholly their passion in the great adventure of this 
 
 journey through it from end to end ? No siren song could 
 
 have lured travellers more than the siren silence of the Grand 
 
 Canyon : but these young men did not leave their bones to 
 
 whiten upon its shores. The courage that brought them 
 
 out whole is plain throughout this narrative, in spite of its 
 
 modesty. 
 
 OWEN WISTER. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 This is a simple narrative of our recent photographic trip 
 down the Green and Colorado rivers in rowboats — our ob- 
 servations and impressions. It is not intended to replace in 
 any way the books published by others covering a similar 
 journey. Major J. W. Powell's report of the original explo- 
 ration, for instance, is a classic, literary and geological ; and 
 searchers after excellence may well be recommended to his 
 admirable work. 
 
 Neither is this chronicle intended as a handbook of the 
 territory traversed — such as Mr. F. S. Dellenbaugh's two 
 volumes: "The Romance of the Grand Canyon," and "A 
 Canyon Voyage." We could hardly hope to add anything 
 of value to his wealth of detail. In fact, much of the data 
 given here — such as distances, elevations, and records of 
 other expeditions — is borrowed from the latter volume. 
 And I take this opportunity of expressing our appreciation 
 to Mr. Dellenbaugh for his most excellent and entertaining 
 books. 
 
 We are indebted to Mr. Julius F. Stone, of Columbus, 
 Ohio, for much valuable information and assistance. Mr. 
 Stone organized a party and made the complete trip down 
 the Green and Colorado rivers in the fall and winter of 1909, 
 
xiv PREFACE 
 
 arriving at Needles, California, on November 19, 1909. 
 He freely gave us the benefit of his experience and presented 
 us with the complete plans of the boats he used. 
 
 One member of this party was Nathan Galloway, of Rich- 
 field, Utah. To him we owe much of the success of our 
 journey. Mr. Galloway hunts and traps through the wilds 
 of Utah, Colorado, and Arizona, and has a fame for skill and 
 nerve throughout this entire region. He makes a yearly trip 
 through the upper canyons, usually in a boat of his own con- 
 struction ; and in addition has the record of being the only 
 person who has made two complete trips through the entire 
 series of canyons, clear to Needles. He it is who has worked 
 out the type of boats we used, and their management in the 
 dangerous waters of the Colorado. 
 
 We have tried to make this narrative not only simple, as 
 we say, but truthful. However, no two people can see things 
 in exactly the same light. To some, nothing looks big ; to 
 others, every little danger is unconsciously magnified out of 
 all proportion. For instance, we can recall rapids which ap- 
 peared rather insignificant at first, but which seemed decidedly 
 otherwise after we had been overturned in them and had felt 
 their power — especially at the moment when we were sure we 
 had swallowed a large part of the water that composed them. 
 
 The reader will kindly excuse the use of the first person, 
 both singular and plural. It is our own story, after all, and 
 there seems to be no other way than to tell it as you find it 
 here. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 , I. Preparations at Green River City, Wyoming 
 
 II. Interesting Sights of Southern Wyoming 
 
 III. The Gateway of all the Canyons 
 
 IV. Suspicious Hosts .... 
 V. The Battle with Lodore 
 
 VI. Hell's Half Mile .... 
 
 VII. Jimmy Goes Over the Mountain 
 
 VIII. An Inland Excursion . 
 
 IX. Canyon of Desolation . 
 
 X. Hospitable Ranchmen . 
 
 XL Wonders of Erosion 
 
 XII. Could we Succeed ? . . . 
 
 XIII. A Companion Voyager . 
 
 XIV. A Patient amid the Cataracts . 
 XV. Placer Gold 
 
 XVI. A Warning 
 
 XVII. A Night of Thrills 
 
 XVIII. Marble Halls and Marble Walls 
 
 XIX. Signalling our Canyon Home 
 
 XX. One Month Later .... 
 
 XXI. What Christmas Eve Brought . 
 
 XXII. Short of Provisions in a Sunless Gorge 
 
 XXIII. The Last Portage and the Last Rapids 
 
 XXIV. On the Crest of a Flood . 
 XXV. Four Days to Yuma .... 
 
 XXVI. Across the Mexico Border 
 
 XXVII. The Gulf of California 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 The Grand Canyon near the mouth of Ha Va Su Creek 
 
 Frontispiece 
 
 FACING PACK 
 
 After a difficult picture. E. C. Kolb on rope . . 2 
 
 In the Grand Canyon near the Little Colorado . . 6 
 
 The start at Green River, Wyoming . . . . lo 
 
 Fire Hole Chimneys ....... lo 
 
 A typical butte formation ...... 14 
 
 Boats and crew. Photo taken in the Grand Canyon . 18 
 
 Skeleton found in the Grand Canyon .... 22 
 
 Inside of the first canyons ...... 26 
 
 Tilted rocks at Kingfisher Canyon ..... 26 
 
 " Immense rocks had fallen from the cHfF" ... 36 
 
 Ashley Falls, looking down-stream ..... 40 
 
 The rocks were dark red ; occasional pines grew on the 
 
 ledges, making a charming combination of colour . 44 
 " We stopped at one hay ranch close to the Utah-Colo- 
 rado line" . . 48 
 
 Remarkable entrance to Lodore Canyon ... 52 
 "The river cut a channel under the walls" at Lower 
 
 Disaster Falls ........ 56 
 
 " Everything was wet" , • S6 
 
 A Colorado River salmon ...... 60 
 
 Lodore Canyon as seen from Brown's Park ... 60 
 "The Canyon was gloomy and darkened with shreds of 
 
 clouds "......... 64 
 
 " It took nine loads to empty one boat " ... 68 
 
xvin 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 FACING PACK 
 
 " An upright log was found wedged between the boulders " 
 
 Echo Cliffs. " This was the end of Lodore " . 
 
 End of Echo Cliffs. The mouth of the Yampa River is 
 
 on the right 
 Marvels of erosion . 
 " Here was one end of the rainbow of rock that began 
 
 on the other side of the mountains *' 
 Pat Lynch : the canyon hermit .... 
 
 Each bed was placed in a rubber and a canvas sack 
 " Now for a fish story " . ..... 
 
 The centre of three symmetrical formations in the Double 
 
 Bow Knot 
 
 The Buttes of the Cross ..... 
 
 "The Land of Standing Rocks was like a maze" 
 
 Rocks overhanging the Colorado's Gorge 
 
 Thirteen hundred feet above the Green River 
 
 The junction of the Green and the Grand Rivers 
 
 Looking west into Cataract Canyon 
 
 Charles Smith and his boat 
 
 A narrow channel at Rapid No. 22 
 
 Developing tests 
 
 Rapid No. 22 in Cataract Canyon 
 
 The Edith in a cataract . 
 
 A seventy-five-foot drop in three-fourths of a 
 
 Camp in the heart of Cataract Canyon . 
 
 Lower Cataract Canyon. Boats tandem 
 
 Beginning of a natural bridge. Glen Canyon 
 
 Pictographs in Glen Canyon . 
 
 Cliff ruins near San Juan River 
 
 Rainbow Natural Bridge, looking south 
 
 Rainbow Natural Bridge, looking north 
 
 Glen Canyon near Navajo Mountain 
 
 mile 
 
 68 
 72 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS xix 
 
 Upper Marble Canyon .... 
 
 Placer dredge at Lee's Ferry . 
 
 Badger Creek Rapid . . . . 
 
 Bands of marble in Marble Canyon 
 
 A peaceful camp in Marble Canyon 
 
 The Soap Creek Rapid; a little above lowest stage. Photo 
 
 published by permission of Julius F. Stone 
 " It was too good a camp to miss " 
 Arch in Marble Canyon ..... 
 Walls of Marble Canyon .... 
 
 Approaching the Grand Canyon 
 End of Marble Canyon, from the mouth of the Little 
 
 Colorado ...... 
 
 Cataracts of the Little Colorado River . 
 
 End of Hance Trail. Small white line is an intrusion of 
 
 quartz in the algonkian ..... 
 
 Below the Sockdologer ...... 
 
 The Rust Tramway. Span four hundred and fifty feet 
 Bright Angel Creek and Canyon .... 
 
 Leaving home, Dec. 19, 191 1 .... 
 
 A composite picture of Marble Canyon walls and a Grand 
 
 Canyon rapid ...... 
 
 The Edith (on left of central rock) in Granite Falls 
 
 Rough water in Hermit Creek Rapid 
 
 Type of rapid in the granite near Bass Trail . 
 
 The inner plateau, thirteen hundred feet above the river 
 
 Bert Lauzon, above Separation Rapid 
 
 The break in the Edith ...... 
 
 Merry Christmas. The repair was made with bilge boards 
 
 canvas, paint, and tin .... . 
 
 Pulling clear of a rock 
 
 A shower bath 
 
 FACING PAGE 
 
 180 
 180 
 184 
 
 188 
 192 
 192 
 196 
 200 
 
 204 
 
 208 
 210 
 214 
 218 
 
 222 
 
 222 
 226 
 230 
 
 238 
 238 
 242 
 
 242 
 246 
 246 
 
XX ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 FACINS PAGE 
 
 Grand Canyon at the mouth of Ha Va Su Canyon. Me- 
 dium high water. Frontispiece shows same place in 
 
 low water ........ 250 
 
 *' Morning revealed a little snow," on the top . . 252 
 New Year's Eve was spent in this section between the 
 
 highest sheer walls in the lower gorge . . . 252 
 
 Lava Falls. Lava on left, hot springs on right . . 254 
 
 Swift water in Tapeets Creek Rapid .... 260 
 
 Lauzon, equipped with a life preserver on a rope, on 
 
 guard below a rapid 260 
 
 In the last granite gorge 260 
 
 Capt. Burro : a Ha Va Supai 266 
 
 The Last Portage. The rocks were ice-filmed. Note 
 
 potholes ......... 270 
 
 Mooney Falls : Ha Va Su Canyon 274 
 
 Watching for the signal fire. Mrs. Emery and Edith Kolb 278 
 
 The granite gorge near Bright Angel Trail . . . 282 
 
 The Grand Canyon from the head of Bright Angel Trail 286 
 
 The Cork Screw : lower end of Bright Angel Trail . . 290 
 
 Zoroaster Temple from the end of Bright Angel Trail . 298 
 
 Winter in the Grand Canyon from the Rim . . . 308 
 
 Winter in the Grand Canyon at the River . . . 308 
 A vaquero in the making . . . . . -318 
 
 Cliff swallows' nests. Found from Wyoming to Mexico 318 
 Steam vents beside Volcanic Lake . . . . .326 
 
 Cocopah Mountain, Mexico 326 
 
 Ten miles from the Gulf of California. Coming up on 
 
 a twenty-foot tide . . . . . . '332 
 
 Sunset on the lower Colorado River . . . '332 
 
Through the Grand Canyon 
 from Wyoming to Mexico 
 
THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM 
 WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 PREPARATIONS AT GREEN RIVER CITY, WYOMING 
 
 Early in September of 1911 my brother Emery and I 
 landed in Green River City, Wyoming, ready for the 
 launching of our boats on our long-planned trip down the 
 Green and Colorado rivers. 
 
 For ten years previous to this time we had lived at 
 the Grand Canyon of Arizona, following the work of 
 scenic photography. In a general way we had covered 
 much of the country adjacent to our home, following 
 our pack animals over ancient and little-used trails, 
 climbing the walls of tributary canyons, dropping over 
 the ledges with ropes when necessary, always in search of 
 the interesting and unusual. 
 
 After ten years of such work many of our plans in 
 connection with a pictorial exploration of the Grand 
 Canyon were crowned with success. Yet all the while 
 our real ambition remained unsatisfied. 
 
2 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 We wanted to make the "Big Trip" — as we called 
 it ; in other words, we wanted a pictorial record of the 
 entire series of canyons on the Green and Colorado rivers. 
 
 The time had come at last, after years of hoping, 
 after long months of active preparation. 
 
 We stood at the freight window of the station at 
 Green River City asking for news of our boats. They 
 had arrived and could be seen in their crates shoved away 
 in a corner. It was too late to do anything with them 
 that day ; so we let them remain where they were, and 
 went out to look over the town. 
 
 Green River City proved to be a busy little place 
 noisy with switch engines, crowded with cattle-men 
 and cowboys, and with hunting parties outfitting for 
 the Jackson Hole country. A thoroughly Western town 
 of the better sort, with all the picturesqueness of people 
 and surroundings that the name implies. 
 
 It was busier than usual, even, that evening; for 
 a noisy but good-natured crowd had gathered around the 
 telegraph office, eager for news of a wrestling match 
 then taking place in an Eastern city. As we came up 
 they broke into a cheer at the news that the American 
 wrestler had defeated his foreign opponent. There was 
 a discussion as to what constituted the "toe-hold," 
 three boys ran an impromptu foot-race, there was some 
 talk on the poor condition of the range, and the party 
 began to break up. 
 
Copyright by Kolb Bros. 
 AFTER A DIFFICULT PICTURE. E. C. KOLB ON THE ROPE. 
 
GREEN RIVER CITY, WYOMING 3 
 
 The little excitement over, we returned to the hotel ; 
 feeling, in spite of our enthusiasm, somewhat lonesome 
 and very much out of place. Our sleep that night was 
 fitful and broken by dreams wherein the places we had 
 known were strangely interwoven with these new scenes 
 and events. Through it all we seemed to hear the roar 
 of the Rio Colorado. 
 
 We looked out of the window the next morning, on 
 a landscape that was novel, yet somehow familiar. The 
 river, a quarter of a mile away, very clear and unruffled 
 under its groves of cottonwood, wound through low 
 barren hills, as unlike as could be to the cliffs and chasms 
 we knew so well. But the colours — gray, red, and umber, 
 just as Moran has painted them — reassured us. We 
 seemed not so far from home, after all. 
 
 It was Wyoming weather, though ; clear and cold, 
 after a windy night. When, after breakfast, we went 
 down to the river, we found that a little ice had formed 
 along the margin. 
 
 The days of final preparation passed quickly — 
 with unpacking of innumerable boxes and bundles, 
 checking off each article against our lists ; and with a long 
 and careful overhauling of our photographic outfit. 
 
 This last was a most important task, for the success 
 of our expedition depended on our success as photog- 
 raphers. We could not hope to add anything of impor- 
 tance to the scientific and topographic knowledge of the 
 
4 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 canyons already existing : and merely to come out alive 
 at the other end did not make a strong appeal to our 
 vanity. We were there as scenic photographers in love 
 with their work, and determined to reproduce the marvels 
 of the Colorado's canyons, as far as we could do it. 
 
 In addition to three film cameras we had 8 X lO and 
 5X7 plate cameras ; a plentiful supply of plates and 
 films ; a large cloth dark-room ; and whatever chemicals 
 we should need for tests. Most important of all, we 
 had brought a motion-picture camera. We had no real 
 assurance that so delicate an apparatus, always difficult 
 to use and regulate, could even survive the journey — 
 much less, in such inexperienced hands as ours, repro- 
 duce its wonders. But this, nevertheless, was our secret 
 hope, hardly admitted to our most intimate friends 
 — that we could bring out a record of the Colorado 
 as it is, a live thing, armed as it were with teeth, ready to 
 crush and devour. 
 
 There was shopping to do ; for the purchases of pro- 
 visions, with a few exceptions, had been left to the last. 
 There were callers, too — an embarrassing number of 
 them. We had camped on a small island near the town, 
 not knowing when we did so that it had recently been 
 put aside for a public park. The whole of Green River 
 City, it seemed, had learned of our project, and came to 
 inspect, or advise, or jeer at us. The kindest of them 
 wished us well ; the other sort told us " it would serve us 
 
GREEN RIVER CITY, WYOMING 5 
 
 right" ; but not one of our callers had any encouragement 
 to offer. Many were the stories of disaster and death 
 with which they entertained us. One story in particular, 
 as it seems never to have reached print — though un- 
 questionably true — ought to be set down here. 
 
 Three years before two young men from St. Louis had 
 embarked here, intending to follow the river throughout 
 its whole course. They were expert canoeists, powerful 
 swimmers, and equipped with a steel boat, we were told, 
 built somewhat after the style of a canoe. They chose 
 the time of high water — not knowing, probably, that 
 while high water decreases the labour of the passage, it 
 greatly increases the danger of it. They came to the first 
 difficult rapid in Red Canyon, seventy odd miles below 
 Green River City. It looked bad to them. They landed 
 above it and stripped to their underclothing and socks. 
 Then they pushed out into the stream. 
 
 Almost at once they lost control of the boat. It over- 
 turned ; it rolled over and over ; it flung them off and 
 left them swimming for their lives. In some way, pos- 
 sibly the currents favouring, they reached the shore. The 
 boat, with all its contents, was gone. There they were, 
 almost naked, without food, without weapons, without the 
 means of building a fire ; and in an uninhabited and 
 utterly inhospitable country. 
 
 For four days they wandered, blistered by the sun by 
 day; nearly frozen at night, bruised by the rocks, and 
 
6 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 torn by the brambles. Finally they reached the ranch 
 at the head of the canyons and were found by a half- 
 breed Indian, who cared for them. Their underwear 
 had been made into bindings for their lacerated feet ; 
 they were nearly starved, and on the verge of mental 
 collapse. After two weeks' treatment in the hospital 
 at Green River City they were partially restored to health. 
 Quite likely they spent many of the long hours of their 
 convalescence on the river bank, or on the little island, 
 watching the unruffled stream glide underneath the cot- 
 ton woods. 
 
 Such tales as this added nothing to our fears, of course 
 — for the whole history of the Colorado is one long story 
 of hardship and disaster, and we knew, even better than 
 our advisors, what risks lay before us. We told our new- 
 found friends, in fact, that we had lived for years on the 
 brink of the Grand Canyon itself, a gorge deeper and more 
 awful, even, than Lodore ; with a volume of water ten 
 times greater. We knew, of course, of the river's vast 
 length, of the terrible gorges that confined it, of the 
 hundreds of rapids through which a boat would have 
 to pass. 
 
 We knew, too, how Major Powell, undismayed by 
 legends of underground channels, impassable cataracts, 
 and whirlpools ; of bloodthirsty tribes haunting its re- 
 cesses, — had passed through the canyons in safety, meas- 
 uring and surveying as he went. We also knew of the 
 
Copyright by Kolb Bros. 
 IN THE GRAND CANYON NEAR THE LITTLE COLORADO. 
 
GREEN RIVER CITY, WYOMING 7 
 
 many other attempts that had been made — most of them 
 ending in disaster or death, a very few being successful. 
 
 Well, it had been done ; ^ it could be done again — this 
 was our answer to their premonitions. 
 
 We had present worries enough to keep us from dwell- 
 ing too much on the future. It had been our intention to 
 start two weeks earlier, but there had been numerous 
 unavoidable delays. The river was low; "the lowest 
 they had seen it in years" they told us, and falling lower 
 every day. There were the usual difficulties of arranging 
 a lot of new material, and putting it in working order. 
 
 At last we were ready for the boats, and you may be 
 sure we lost no time in having them hauled to the river, 
 and launching them. 
 
 They were beauties — these two boats of ours — grace- 
 ful, yet strong in line, floating easily, well up in the water, 
 in spite of their five hundred pounds' weight. They were 
 flat-bottomed, with a ten-inch rake or raise at either 
 end ; built of white cedar, with unusually high sides ; 
 with arched decks in bow and stern, for the safe storing 
 
 * 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, ist 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, 191 1. 
 
 For a more complete record of the earlier parties see appendix. 
 
8 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 of supplies. Scaled air chambers were placed in each end, 
 large enough to keep the boats afloat even if filled with 
 water. The compartment at the bow was lined with tin, 
 carefully soldered, so that even a leak in the bottom would 
 not admit water to our precious cargoes. We had placed 
 no limit on their cost, only insisting that they should be 
 of materials and workmanship of the very best, and 
 strictly in accordance with our specifications. In every 
 respect but one they pleased us. Imagine our consterna- 
 tion when we discovered that the hatch covers were 
 anything but water-tight, though we had insisted more 
 upon this, perhaps, than upon any other detail. Loose 
 boards, with cross-pieces, fastened with little thumb- 
 screws — there they were, ready to admit the water at 
 the very first upset. 
 
 There was nothing to be done. It was too late to 
 rebuild the hatches even if we had had the proper ma- 
 terial. Owing to the stage of water it was imperative 
 that we should start at once. Bad as it would be to have 
 water in our cargo, it would be worse to have too little 
 water in the rock-obstructed channels of Red Canyon, or 
 in the "flats" at Brown's Park for instance. 
 
 Certainly the boats acted so beautifully in the water 
 that we could almost overlook the defective hatches. 
 Emery rowed upstream for a hundred yards, against a 
 stiff current, and came back jubilant. 
 
 "They're great — simply great !" he exclaimed. 
 
GREEN RIVER CITY, WYOMING 9 
 
 We had one real cause for worry, for actual anxiety, 
 though ; and as each hour brought us nearer to the time of 
 our departure, we grew more and more desperate. What 
 about our third man ? 
 
 We were convinced that a third man was needed ; if 
 not for the duties of camp making, helping with the cook- 
 ing and portaging ; at least, for turning the crank of the 
 motion-picture camera. Emery and I could not very 
 well be running rapids, and photographing ourselves in 
 the rapids at the same time. Without a capable assistant, 
 therefore, much of the real purpose would be defeated. 
 
 Our first move, accordingly, had been to secure the 
 services of a strong, level-headed, and competent man. 
 Friends strongly advised us to engage a Canadian canoe- 
 man, or at least some one familiar with the management 
 of boats in rough water. It was suggested, also, that we 
 might secure the help of some one of the voyagers who 
 had been members of one of the previous expeditions. 
 
 But — we may as well be frank about it — we did not 
 wish to be piloted through the Colorado by a guide. We 
 wanted to make our own trip in our own way. If we 
 failed, we would have no one but ourselves to blame ; if 
 we succeeded, we would have all the satisfaction that 
 comes from original, personal exploration. In other 
 words, we wanted a man to execute orders, not to give 
 them. But that man was hard to find ! 
 
 There had been many applicants ; some of them from 
 
lO THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 distant parts of the country. One by one they were 
 sifted out. At length we decided on one man ; but later 
 he withdrew. We turned elsewhere, but these appli- 
 cations were withdrawn, until there remained but a 
 single letter, from a young man in San Francisco. He 
 seemed in every way qualified. We wrote accepting his 
 application, but while waiting to hear from us a civil 
 service position had been offered and accepted. "He 
 was sorry"; and so were we, for his references proved 
 that he was a capable man. Later he wrote that he had 
 secured a substitute. We replied on the instant, by wir- 
 ing money for transportation, with instructions for the 
 new man to report at once at Green River. We took very 
 much for granted, having confidence in our friends' sin- 
 cerity and knowledge of just what was required. 
 
 The time had passed, two days before ; but — no sign 
 of our man ! We wrote, we telegraphed, we walked back 
 and forth to every train ; but still he did not come. Had 
 this man, too, failed us ? 
 
 Then "Jimmy" came — just the night before we were 
 to leave. And never was a man more heartily welcome ! 
 
 With James Fagen of San Francisco our party was 
 complete. He was an Irish-American, aged 22 years, a 
 strong, active, and willing chap. To be sure, he was 
 younger, and not so experienced at "roughing it" as we 
 had hoped. But his good qualities, we were sure, would 
 make up for what was lacking. 
 
THE START AT GREEN RI\ ER, WYOMING. 
 
 FIRE HOLE CHIMNEYb. 
 
GREEN RIVER CITY, WYOMING II 
 
 Evening found us encamped a half mile below the town, 
 near the county bridge. Our preparations were finished 
 — even to the final purchase of odds and ends ; with am- 
 munition for shot-gun and rifle. We threw our sleeping- 
 bags on the dry ground close to the river's edge, and, all our 
 anxieties gone, we turned our faces to the stars and slept. 
 
 At daybreak we were aroused by the thunder of hoofs 
 on the bridge above us, and the shouts of cowboys driv- 
 ing a large herd of half-broken horses. We tumbled into 
 our clothes, splashed our faces with ice-cold water from 
 the river, and hurried over to the hotel for a last breakfast. 
 
 Then we sat down — in the little hotel at Green River 
 City — as others had done before, to write last messages 
 to those who were nearest and dearest to us. A telegram 
 to our parents in an Eastern city ; and another to Emery's 
 wife and little girl, at Bright Angel, more than eight 
 hundred miles down this self-same river — these, some- 
 how, took longer to write than the letters themselves. 
 But whatever we may have felt, we finished this final 
 correspondence in silence, and hurried back to the river. 
 
 Something of a crowd had gathered on the bridge to 
 wish us bon voyage. Shouting up to them our thanks for 
 their hospitality, and telling them to "look pleasant," 
 we focussed the motion-picture camera on them, Emery 
 turning the crank, as the boat swung out into the current. 
 
 So began our journey, on Friday, September the 8th, 
 191 1, at 9.30 A.M., as entered in my journal. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 INTERESTING SIGHTS OF SOUTHERN WYOMING 
 
 All this preparation — and still more, the vexatious 
 delays ■ — had been a heavy tax upon us. We needed a 
 vacation. We took it — six pleasant care-free days — 
 hunting and fishing as we drifted through the sixty miles 
 of southern Wyoming. There were ducks and geese on 
 the river to test our skill with the shot-gun. Only two 
 miles below Green River City Emery secured our first 
 duck, a promise of good sport to follow. An occasional 
 cottontail rabbit was seen, scurrying to cover through 
 the sage-brush, when we made a detour from the boats. 
 We saw many jack-rabbits too — with their long legs, 
 and exaggerated ears — creatures swifter, even, than the 
 coyotes themselves. 
 
 We saw few people, though an occasional rancher hailed 
 us from the shore. Men of the open themselves, the 
 character of our expedition appealed to them. Their 
 invitations to "come up to the ranch, and spend the 
 evening" were always hearty, and could seldom be re- 
 fused if the day was nearly gone. 
 
INTERESTING SIGHTS OF SOUTHERN WYOMING 13 
 
 The Logan boys' ranch, for instance, was our first 
 camp ; but will be one of the last to be forgotten. The 
 two Logan boys were sturdy, companionable young men, 
 full of pranks, and of that bubbling, generous humour 
 that flourishes in this Western air. We were amused by 
 their kindly offer to allow Jimmy to ride "the little bay" 
 — a beautiful animal, with the shifty eye of a criminal. 
 But Jimmy, though city-bred, was not to be trapped, and 
 declined ; very wisely, as we thought. We photographed 
 their favourite horses, and the cabin ; also helped them 
 with their own camera, and developed some plates in 
 the underground storm-cellar, — a perfect dark-room, as 
 it happened. 
 
 We took advantage of this pleasant camp to make a 
 few alterations about our boats. Certain mechanical 
 details had been neglected in our desire to be off, our 
 intention being to look after them as occasion demanded. 
 Our short run had already shown us where we were weak 
 or unprepared. The rowlocks needed strengthening. 
 One had come apart in our first brush with a little riffle. 
 The rowlocks were of a little-used type, but very service- 
 able in dangerous waters. Inside the usual rowlock a 
 heavy ring was hung, kept in place by strong set-screws, 
 but allowing full play in every direction. These rings 
 were slipped over the oars ; then the usual leather collar 
 was nailed on the oar, making it impossible for the rings 
 to become separated from the oars. The holes for the 
 
14 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 set-screws were too shallow, so we went over the entire 
 lot to deepen them. We foresaw where a break might 
 occur, and hung another lock of the open type on a cord, 
 beside each oar, ready for instant use in case of emergency. 
 
 The Logan boys, seeing our difficulties in making some 
 of these changes, came to our relief. "Help yourselves 
 to the blacksmith shop," they said heartily. Here was 
 an opportunity. Much time was consumed in providing 
 a device to hold our extra oars — out of the way on top 
 of the deck, but available at a moment's notice. Thanks 
 to the Logan boys and their blacksmith shop, these and 
 many other little details were corrected once for all ; and 
 we launched our boats in confidence on the morning of 
 September lo. 
 
 A few miles below we came to the locally famous Fire 
 Hole Chimneys, interesting examples of the butte forma- 
 tion, so typical of the West. There were several of these 
 buttes, about 800 feet high, composed of stratified rock ; 
 in colour quite similar to the rocks at Green River City, 
 but capped with rock of a peculiar burnt appearance, 
 though not of volcanic origin. Some of the buttes sloped 
 up from the very edge of the river ; others were separated 
 from the river by low flats, covered with sage-brush and 
 bunch-grass, — that nutritious food of the range stock. 
 At the water's edge was the usual fringe of willows, cot- 
 tonwoods, and shrubs innumerable, — all mirrored in the 
 limpid surface of Green River. 
 

 .WT:. 
 
 >:S4. *"^ ' 
 
 ^v''-' 
 
INTERESTING SIGHTS OF SOUTHERN WYOMING 15 
 
 At the foot of the cliffs were a number of wild burros, 
 old and young — fuzzy little baby-burros, looking ridic- 
 ulously like jack-rabbits — snorting their indignation 
 at our invasion of their privacy. Strange, by the way, 
 how quickly these wild asses lose their wildness of carriage 
 when broken, and lapse into the utmost docility ! 
 
 Just below the Chimneys Emery caught sight of fish 
 gathered in a deep pool, under the foliage of a cottonwood 
 tree which had fallen into the river. Our most tempting 
 bait failed to interest them ; so Emery, ever clever with 
 hook and line, '' snagged" one just to teach them better 
 manners. It was a Colorado River salmon or whitefish. 
 That evening I "snagged" a catfish and used this for 
 salmon bait, a fourteen-pound specimen rewarding the 
 attempt. 
 
 These salmon were old friends of ours, being found from 
 one end to the other of the Colorado, and on all its tribu- 
 taries. They sometimes weigh twenty-five or thirty 
 pounds, and are common at twenty pounds ; being 
 stockily built fish, with large, flat heads. They are not 
 gamey, but afford a lot of meat with a very satisfying 
 flavour. 
 
 On September 11, about forty miles below Green River, 
 we passed Black's Fork, a tributary entering from the west. 
 It is a stream of considerable length, but was of little 
 volume at that time. The banks were cliffs about 300 
 feet high, rugged, dark, and overhanging. Here were a 
 
l6 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 half dozen eagles and many old nests — proof enough, 
 if proof were needed, that we were in a little visited 
 country. What strong, splendid birds they were ; how 
 powerful and graceful their flight as they circled up, and 
 up, into the clear blue sky ! 
 
 Our next camp was at the Holmes' ranch, a few miles 
 below Black's Fork. We tried to buy some eggs of 
 Walter Holmes, and were told that we could have them 
 on one condition — that we visit him that evening. 
 This was a price we were only too glad to pay, and the 
 evening will linger long in our memories. 
 
 Mr. Holmes entertained us with stories of hunting 
 trips — after big game in the wilds of Colorado ; and 
 among the lakes of the Wind River Mountains, the 
 distant source of the Green River. Mrs. Holmes and 
 two young ladies entertained us with music ; and Jimmy, 
 much to our surprise, joined in with a full, rich baritone. 
 It was late that night when we rolled ourselves in our 
 blankets, on the banks twenty feet above the river. 
 
 Next morning we were shown a group of Mrs. Holmes* 
 pets — several young rabbits and a kitten, romping 
 together in the utmost good fellowship. The rabbits 
 had been rescued from a watery grave in an irrigation 
 ditch and carefully nursed back to life. We helped her 
 search for a lame wild duck that had spurned the offer 
 of a good home with civilized ducklings, and had taken 
 to the sage-brush. Mrs. Holmes' love of wild animals, 
 
INTERESTING SIGHTS OF SOUTHERN WYOMING 17 
 
 however, failed to include the bald-headed eagle that 
 had shown such an appetite for her spring chickens. 
 
 A few miles below this ranch we passed Bridger Cross- 
 ing, a ford on an old trail through southern Wyoming. 
 In pioneer days Jim Bridger's home was on this very 
 spot. But those romantic days are long since past; 
 and where this world-famous scout once watched through 
 the loopholes of his barricade, was an amazed youngster 
 ten or eleven years old who gazed on us, then ran to the 
 cabin and emerged with a rifle in his hands. We thought 
 little of this incident at the time, but later we met the 
 father of the boy and were told that the children had been 
 left alone with the small boy as their only protector, and 
 that he stood ready to defend the home against any 
 possible marauders. No doubt we looked bad enough 
 to him. 
 
 Just below the ford the channel widened, and the 
 river became very shallow, the low rolling hills falling 
 away into a wide green prairie. We camped that night on 
 a small island, low and treeless, but covered with deep, 
 rank grass. Next morning our sleeping-bags were wet 
 with frost and dew. A hard pull against a heavy wind 
 between gradually deepening rocky banks made us more 
 than glad to pitch camp at noon a short distance above 
 the mouth of Henry's Fork, a considerable stream flowing 
 from the west. In the afternoon Emery and I decided 
 to walk to Linwood, lying just across the Utah line, four 
 
1 8 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 miles up Henry's Fork. Jimmy preferred to remain 
 with the boats. 
 
 Between the river and a low mesa lay a large ranch of 
 a different appearance from those others which we had 
 passed. Those past were cattle ranches, with stock on 
 the open range, and with little ground fit for cultivation, 
 owing to the elevation. Here we found great, broad acres, 
 fenced and cultivated, with thoroughbred stock — horses 
 and cattle — contentedly grazing. 
 
 This pastoral scene, with a background of rugged 
 mountains, appealed strongly to our photographic in- 
 stincts. After three or four exposures, we climbed the 
 farthest fence and passing from alfalfa to sage-brush in 
 one step, were at the foot of the mesa. 
 
 Climbing to the summit, we beheld the village in the 
 distance, in a beautiful green valley — a splendid example 
 of Mormon irrigation and farming methods. Linwood 
 proved to be the market-place for all the ranchers of this 
 region. Dotting the foot-hills where water was less plen- 
 tiful were occasional cabins, set down in the middle of 
 hay ranches. All this husbandry only emphasized the 
 surrounding desolation. Just beyond, dark in the south- 
 ern sky, rose the great peaks of the Uintah range, the 
 mountains we were so soon to enter. 
 
 Storm-clouds had been gathering about one great snow- 
 covered peak, far in the distance. These clouds spread 
 and darkened, moving rapidly forward. We had taken 
 
INTERESTING SIGHTS OF SOUTHERN WYOMING 19 
 
 the hint and were already making all possible haste tow- 
 ard the town,! hoping to reach it before the storm broke. 
 But it was useless. Long before we had gained the edge 
 of the valley the rain had commenced in the mountains, 
 — small local storms, resembling delicate violet-coloured 
 veils, hung In the dense pall of the clouds. There were 
 far flashes of lightning, and the subdued roar of distant 
 thunder, rapidly growing louder as the storm approached. 
 Unable to escape a drenching, we paused a moment to 
 wonder at the sight ; to marvel — and shrink a little 
 too — at the wild. Incessant lightning. The peaks them- 
 selves seemed to be tumbling together, such was the 
 continuous roar of thunder, punctuated by frequent 
 deafening crashes. 
 
 Then the storm came down upon us. Such torrents 
 of rain we have seldom witnessed : such gusts of driving 
 wind ! At times we could scarcely make headway against 
 it, but after most strenuous effort we neared the village. 
 We hoped to find shelter under a bridge, but found in- 
 numerable muddy streams running through the planks. 
 So we resumed our plodding, slipping and sliding in the 
 black, bottomless mud. 
 
 The storm by this time had passed as quickly as it 
 came. Wet to our skins, we crawled into the little store 
 and post-office combined, and found it filled with ranch 
 hands, waiting for the weekly mail. We made a few 
 purchases, wrote some letters, then went to a large board- 
 
20 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 ing-house near by and fortified ourselves with a generous, 
 hot supper. 
 
 There were comments by some of the men on our 
 venture, but they lacked the true Green River tang. 
 Here, close to the upper canyons, the unreasonable fear 
 of the rapids gave way to a reasonable respect for them. 
 Here we heard again of the two young men from St. 
 Louis, and the mishaps that had befallen them. Here 
 too we were to hear for the first time of the two Snyders, 
 father and son, and the misfortunes that had overtaken 
 them in Lodore Canyon, twenty years before. We were 
 to hear more of these men later. 
 
 We made what haste we could back to our boats, 
 soon being overtaken by a horseman, a big-hearted 
 Swede who insisted on carrying our load as long as we 
 were going in his direction. How many just such in- 
 stances of kindliness we were to experience on our journey 
 down the river ! How the West abounds with such men ! 
 It was dark when he left us a mile from the river. Here 
 there was no road to follow, and we found that what had 
 been numerous dry gullies before were now streams of 
 muddy water. Two or three of these streams had to be 
 crossed, and we had a disagreeable half hour in a marsh. 
 Finally we reached the river, but not at the point where 
 we had left our boats. We were uncertain whether the 
 camp was above or below us, and called loudly for Jimmy, 
 but received no answer. 
 
INTERESTING SIGHTS OF SOUTHERN WYOMING 2I 
 
 Emery felt sure that camp was upstream. So up- 
 stream we went, keeping back of the bushes that 
 fringed the banks, carefully searching for a sign. After 
 a few minutes' hunt we heard a sound : a subdued rumble, 
 not unlike the distant thunder heard that afternoon, or 
 of boats being dragged over the pebbles. What could it 
 be f We listened again, carefully this time, and dis- 
 covered that it came from a point about thirty feet away, 
 on the opposite side of the bushes. It could be only one 
 thing. Jimmy's snore had brought us home 1 
 
 Hurriedly securing some dry clothes from the rubber 
 sacks, which contained our sleeping-bags as well, we made 
 a quick change, and slid into the beds, inflating the air 
 mattresses with our lungs after we were inside. Then we 
 lay down contentedly to rest. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 THE GATEWAY OF ALL THE CANYONS 
 
 We awoke the next morning full of anticipation. 
 Something new lay ahead of us, a promise of variety. 
 In plain sight of our camp lay the entrance to Flaming 
 Gorge, the gateway to the entire series of canyons. 
 Hurriedly finishing our camp duties, we loaded the boats, 
 fastened down the hatches, and shoved off into the cur- 
 rent, eager to be on our way. 
 
 It was cloudy overhead and looked as if we were to 
 have more rain. Even then it must have been raining 
 away to the north, for a dirty, clay-colored torrent rushed 
 through the dry arroyo of the night before, a stream large 
 enough to discolour the water of the Green itself. But we 
 thought little of this. We were used to seeing muddy 
 water in the Colorado's gorges ; in fact we were surprised 
 to find clear water at all, even in the Green River. Row- 
 ing downstream we found that the country sloped gently 
 towards the mountains. The river skirted the edge of 
 these foot-hills as if looking for a possible escape, then 
 turned and entered the mountain at a sharp angle. The 
 
V ighl by Kolb Bros. 
 
 SKELETON FOUND IN THE GR.\ND CA.N\u\. 
 
THE GATEWAY OF ALL THE CANYONS 2$ 
 
 walls sloped back considerably at first, and there was a 
 little shore on either side. 
 
 Somewhere near this point runs the dividing line of 
 Wyoming and Utah. 
 
 We considered the gateway a subject worthy of a 
 motion picture, if taken from the deck of the boat ; but 
 doubted if it would be a success owing to the condition 
 of the light and the motion of the boat. Still it was 
 considered worthy of a trial, and the film was run through. 
 
 The colour of the rocks at the entrance was a light red, 
 but not out of the ordinary in brilliancy. The rock 
 formation was stratified, but displaced ; standing at an 
 angle and flexed over on top with a ragged break here and 
 there, showing plainly the great pressure to which the 
 rocks had been subjected. The upheaval was not violent, 
 the scientists tell us, but slow and even, allowing the 
 river to maintain its old channel, sawing its way through 
 the sandstone. The broken canyon walls, when well 
 inside the gorge, were about 600 to 700 feet high. The 
 mountains beyond and on either side were much higher. 
 The growth on the mountain sides was principally ever- 
 green ; Douglas fir, the bull-pine and yellow pine. There 
 was a species of juniper, somewhat different from the Utah 
 juniper, with which we were familiar at the Grand Canyon. 
 Bushes and undergrowth were dense above the steep 
 canyon walls, which were bare. Willows, alder-thickets, 
 and a few cottonwood trees lined the shores. 
 
24 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 Meanwhile the current had quickened, almost imper- 
 ceptibly at first, but enough to put us on our guard. 
 While there were no rapids, use was made of what swift 
 water we found by practising on the method we would 
 use in making a passage through the bad rapids. As to 
 this method, unused as yet by either of us, we had re- 
 ceived careful verbal instruction from Mr. Stone, who had 
 made the trip two years before our own venture ; and 
 from other friends of Nathan Galloway, the trapper, 
 the man who first introduced the method on the Green 
 and Colorado rivers. 
 
 Our experience on water of any kind was rather 
 limited. Emery could row a boat, and row it well, before 
 we left Green River, but had never gone over any large 
 rapids. While he was not nearly so large or heavy as I, 
 — weighing no more than 130 pounds, while I weighed 170 
 pounds, — he made up for his lighter weight by a quick- 
 ness and strength that often surprised me. He was 
 always neat and clever In his method of handling his boat, 
 taking a great deal of pride in keeping it free from marks, 
 and avoiding rocks when making a landing. I had done 
 very little rowing before leaving Green River, so little 
 that I had diflftculty in getting both oars in the water at 
 the same time. Of course it did not take me long to 
 learn that ; but I did not have the knack of making clean 
 landings, and bumped many rocks that my brother 
 missed. Still I was improving all the time and was 
 
THE GATEWAY OF ALL THE CANYONS 2$ 
 
 anxious to get into the rough water, feeling sure I would 
 get through somehow, but doing my best in the mean- 
 time to get the knack of handling the boat properly before 
 the rough water was reached. 
 
 An occasional rock would stick up above the surface ; 
 the swift water would rush up on it, or drive past on either 
 side. Instead of pulling downstream with might and 
 main, and depending on a steersman with a sweep-oar 
 to keep us clear of obstructions — the method usually 
 adopted on large rivers, and by the earlier parties on the 
 Colorado — by our method the single oarsman reversed 
 his boat so that it was turned with the stern downstream, 
 giving the oarsman a view of what was ahead ; then by 
 pulling upstream the boat was held in check. We 
 allowed ourselves to be carried in a direct line with the 
 rocks ahead, approaching them as closely as we dared ; 
 then, with a pull on one oar, the boat was turned slightly 
 at an angle to the current, and swung to one side or the 
 other ; just as a ferry is headed into the current, the water 
 itself helping to force it across. The ferry is held by a 
 cable ; the boat, by the oarsman ; the results are quite 
 similar. 
 
 The boats, too, were somewhat unusual in design, hav- 
 ing been carefully worked out by Galloway after much ex- 
 perience with the problem, and after building many boats. 
 He finally settled on the design furnished us by Mr. 
 Stone. The flat bottom, sloping up from the centre to 
 
26 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 either end, placed the boats on a pivot one might say, so 
 that they could be turned very quickly, much more 
 quickly than if they had had a keel. There was a four- 
 foot skag or keel under the stern end of the boat, but 
 this was only used when in quiet water ; and as it was 
 never replaced after being once removed we seldom refer 
 to it. Being flat-bottomed, they drew comparatively 
 little water, a matter quite important on low water such 
 as we found in the Green River. While each boat carried 
 a weight of seven hundred pounds in addition to its own 
 five hundred pounds, they often passed over rocks less 
 than ten inches below the surface, and did so without 
 touching. While the boats were quite large, the arched 
 decks made them look even larger. A considerable 
 amount of material could be stored under these decks. 
 The only part of the boat that was entirely open or un- 
 protected from the waves was the cockpit, or mid-section 
 occupied by the oarsman. This was only large enough 
 for one man. A second man had to sit on the deck behind 
 the oarsman, with his feet hanging into the cockpit. 
 Jimmy occupied this place of honour as we drifted through 
 the placid water ; first on one boat, then on the other, 
 entertaining us meanwhile with his songs. 
 
 We encountered two splashy little rapids this day, 
 but with no rocks, or any dangerous feature whatever. 
 Any method, or none at all, was safe enough in these 
 rapids. 
 
THE GATEWAY OF ALL THE CANYONS Vj 
 
 The colouring of the rocks changed as we proceeded, 
 and at the lower end of the short canyon we saw the flam- 
 ing patch of colour that had suggested its name to Major 
 Powell, forty-two years before. Intensified on that occa- 
 sion by the reflected light of a gorgeous sunset, it must 
 have been a most brilliant spectacle. 
 
 Two beavers slid into the water when we were close 
 beside them, then rose to the surface to stare curiously 
 when we had passed. We left them undisturbed. Some 
 geese decoyed us into an attempt to ambush them, but 
 they kept always just out of reach of our guns. Wise 
 fellows, those geese ! 
 
 A geological fault accompanied by the breaking down 
 of the walls marks the division between Flaming Gorge 
 and Horseshoe Canyon, which immediately follows. 
 We nooned here, opposite a deserted cabin. A trail 
 dropped by easy stages over the slope on the east side ; 
 and fresh tracks showed that sheep had recently been 
 driven down to the water's edge. 
 
 Passing through Horseshoe, — another very short 
 canyon, — we found deep, placid pools, and sheer, light 
 red walls rising about four hundred feet on either side, 
 then sloping back steeply to the tree-covered mountains. 
 In the middle of this canyon Emery was startled out of a 
 day-dream by a rock falling into the water close beside 
 him, with never a sound of warning. Years spent in the 
 canyons had accustomed Emery and me to such occur- 
 
28 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 rences ; but Jimmy, unused to great gorges and towering 
 cliffs, was much impressed by this incident. After all, 
 it is only the unusual that is terrible. Jimmy was ready 
 enough to take his chances at dodging bricks hurled by a 
 San Francisco earthquake, but never got quite used to 
 rocks descending from a source altogether out of sight. 
 Small wonder, after all ! Later we were to experience 
 more of this thing, and on a scale to startle a stoic ! 
 
 We halted at the end of Horseshoe, early in the after- 
 noon of September 14, 191 1, one week out from Green 
 River City. Camp No. 6 was pitched on a gravelly 
 shore beside Sheep Creek, a clear sparkling stream, 
 coming in from the slopes of the Uintah range. Just 
 above us, on the west, rose three jagged cliffs, about 
 five hundred feet high, reminding one by their shape of the 
 Three Brothers of Yosemite Valley. Here, again, we were 
 treated to another wonderful example of geologic dis- 
 placement, the rocks of Horseshoe Canyon lying in level 
 strata ; while those of Kingfisher, which followed, were 
 standing on end. Sheep Creek, flowing from the west, 
 finds an easy course through the fault, at the division 
 of the canyons. The balance of this day was spent in 
 carefully packing our material and rearranging it in our 
 boats, for we expected hard work to follow. 
 
 Tempted by the rippling song of the brook, and by 
 tales of fish to be found therein, we spent two hours 
 fishing from its banks on the morning of the 15th. But 
 
THE GATEWAY OF ALL THE CANYONS 29 
 
 the foliage of overhanging trees and shrubs was dense, 
 making it difficult to cast our lines, or even to climb along 
 its shores, and our small catch of two trout, which were 
 fried with a strip of bacon to add flavour, only whetted our 
 appetites for more. 
 
 It was a little late in the season for many birds. Here 
 in Kingfisher Canyon were a few of the fish-catching birds 
 from which the canyon took its name. There were 
 many of the tireless cliflf-swallows scattered all through 
 these canyons, wheeling and darting, ever on the wing. 
 These, with the noisy crested jays, an occasional "camp- 
 robber," the little nuthatches, the cheerful canyon wren 
 with his rollicking song, the happy water-ousel, "kill- 
 deer" and road-runners and the water birds, — ducks, 
 geese, and mud-hens, with an occasional crane, — made up 
 the bird life seen in the open country and in these upper 
 canyons. Earlier in the season it must be a bird's paradise, 
 for berries and seeds would then be plentiful. 
 
 We resumed our journey at 10 a.m., a very short run 
 bringing us to the end of Kingfisher Canyon. The three 
 canyons passed through approximate hardly more than 
 ten miles in length, diflFerent names being given for geo- 
 logical reasons, as they really form only one canyon. 
 The walls at the end were broken down, and brilliantly 
 tinted talus of many hues covered the slopes, the different 
 colours intermingling near the bottom. The canyon-walled 
 river turned southeast here, and continued in this gen- 
 
30 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 eral direction for many miles, but with many twists 
 and turns. 
 
 We had previously been informed that Red Canyon, 
 the next to follow, while not considered bad when com- 
 pared to others, gave one the experience most necessary 
 to combat the rapids farther down. It was not without 
 danger, however, as a review of previous expeditions 
 showed : some had lost their lives, still others, their 
 boats ; and one of Major Powell's parties had upset a 
 boat in a Red Canyon rapid. The stage of water was 
 so different on these previous attempts that their experi- 
 ences were of little value to us one way or the other. A 
 reference to pictures taken by two of these parties showed 
 us there was considerable more water when they went 
 through — six, and even eight feet higher in places. 
 Possibly this would be the best stage on which to make 
 the voyage in heavy boats. The unfortunate ones had 
 taken the spring rise, or flood water, with disastrous 
 results to themselves or their boats. 
 
 We soon found that our passage was to be hard on 
 account of having too little water. In the quiet water 
 above we had been seldom bothered with shoals ; but 
 now that we were in swifter water, there was scarcely 
 any depth to it at all, except in the quiet pools between 
 the rapids. 
 
 For a description of our passage through this upper 
 end of Red Canyon we refer to our journal : sketchy 
 
THE GATEWAY OF ALL THE CANYONS 3 1 
 
 notes jotted down, usually in the evening just before 
 retiring, by the light of a camp-fire, or the flickering flame 
 of a candle. Under the date of Friday, September the 
 15th, we find the following : 
 
 "End of Kingfisher: long, quiet pools and shoals 
 where we grounded a few times ; several small, splashy 
 rapids ; then a larger one near an old boat landing. 
 Looked the rapid over from the shore. Jim remained 
 at the lower end with a life-preserver on a rope, while we 
 ran the rapid. Struck one or two rocks, lightly ; but 
 made the run in safety." 
 
 " At the third rapid we saw some geese — but they 
 got away. At noon we ate a cold lunch and because of 
 the low water removed the skags, carrying them in the 
 cockpit. The scenery in upper Red Canyon is impres- 
 sive : pines and fir come down on the sloping sides to the 
 river's edge ; the rocks are reddish brown in colour, often 
 broken in squares, and looking like great building blocks 
 piled one upon another. The canyon is about fifteen 
 hundred feet deep ; the river is clear again, and averages 
 about two hundred feet in width. We have seen a few 
 deer tracks, but have not seen any deer. We also saw 
 some jumping trout in a splashy little rapid. Doubtless 
 they came from a little creek, close by, for we never heard 
 of trout being found in the Green River." 
 
 " We made a motion picture, while dropping our boats 
 down with lines, over the first rapid we considered bad. 
 
32 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 Emery remained in the boats, keeping clear of the rocks 
 with a pole. Powell's second party records an upset here." 
 " We passed Kettle Creek about 5 p.m. In the fifth rapid 
 below Kettle Creek I got on the wrong side of the river 
 and was carried into a very rocky rapid — the worst so far 
 encountered. I touched a rock or two at the start, 
 but made the run in safety; while Emery ran the op- 
 posite side without trouble. We camped beside a small 
 stream on the south, where there were signs of an old 
 camp." 
 
 " Saturday, September 16. Clear and cold in the early 
 morning. Started about 9 a.m. Lined our boats past 
 a difficult rapid. Too many rocks, not enough water. 
 Two or three miles below this I had some difficulty in a 
 rapid, as the pin of a rowlock lifted out of the socket 
 when in the middle of rough water. Emery snapped a 
 picture just as it happened. A little later E. C.^ ran 
 a rocky rapid, but had so much trouble that we con- 
 cluded to line my boat. Noon. Just a cold lunch, but 
 with hot coffee from the vacuum bottles. Then at it 
 again." 
 
 " The scenery is wonderful ; the canyon is deeper than 
 above ; the river is swift and has a decided drop. We 
 proceed cautiously, and make slow progress. We camp 
 
 * 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. 
 
THE GATEWAY OF ALL THE CANYONS 33 
 
 for the day on the north side close to a little, dry gully, 
 on a level sage and bunch-grass covered bottom back 
 from the river's edge. An abruptly descending canyon 
 banked with small cottonwood trees coming in from the 
 opposite side contains a small stream. Put up our tent 
 for the second time since leaving Green River, Wyoming. 
 We are all weary, and glad to-morrow is Sunday — a day 
 of rest." 
 
 " Sunday, September ly. E. C. and I follow a fresh 
 deer track up a game trail and get — a rabbit. Climb out 
 about 1300 feet above the river to the top of the 
 narrow canyon. Here is a sloping plateau, dotted with 
 bunch-grass and grease-wood, a fourth of a mile wide. 
 Then rounded mountains rise beyond the plateau, some 
 of the peaks reaching a height of 4000 feet above the river. 
 The opposite side is much the same, but with a wider 
 plateau. We had no idea before what a wonderful coun- 
 try this is. It is a picture to tempt an artist. High on 
 the mountain tops is the dark blue-green of pines and 
 firs, reds and yellows are mixed in the quaking aspen, — 
 for the frost comes early enough to catch the sap in the 
 leaves ; little openings, or parks with no trees, are tinted 
 a beautiful soft gray ; * brownstone fronts ' are found in 
 the canyon walls ; and a very light green in the willow- 
 leafed cottonwoods at the river's edge, and in all side 
 canyons where there is a running stream. The river 
 glistens in the sunlight, as it winds around the base of the 
 
34 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 wall on which we stand, and then disappears around a 
 bend in the canyon. Turn where we will, we see no sign 
 of an opening, nothing but the rounded tops of wooded 
 mountains, red and green, far as the eye can reach, until 
 they disappear in the hazy blue. Finally Emery's 
 keen eyes, aided by the binoculars, discover a log cabin 
 at the foot of a mountain, on the plateau opposite us, 
 about three miles away.'* 
 
 " We hurry back to camp and write some letters ; then 
 Jim and I cross the river and climb out over the rocky 
 walls to the plateau above. In two hours we reach the 
 cabin. It is new — not yet finished. A woman and four 
 children are looking over a garden when we arrive. They 
 are a little frightened at first, but soon recover. The 
 woman gladly promises to take out our mail when they 
 go to the nearest town, which happens to be Vernal, 
 Utah, forty-five miles away. Three other families live 
 near by, all recently moved in from Vernal. The woman 
 tells us that Galloway hunts bear in these timbered moun- 
 tains, and has killed some with a price on their heads — 
 bear with a perverted taste for fresh beef." ^ 
 
 * 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 }5200 
 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 ^lO 
 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. 
 
EMERY C. KOLB. 
 
 ELLSWORTH L. KOLB. 
 
 RESULTS. TWO WEEKS AFTER FINISH OF TRIP. 
 
THE GATEWAY OF ALL THE CANYONS 35 
 
 " Thanking the woman, we make our way back to the 
 river. We see some dried-out elk horns along our trail ; 
 though it is doubtful if elk get this far south at present. 
 A deer trail, leading down a ravine, makes our homeward 
 journey much easier. It has turned quite cold this 
 evening, after sunset. We finish our notes and prepare 
 to roll into our beds a little earlier than usual." 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 SUSPICIOUS HOSTS 
 
 We awoke bright and early the next morning, much 
 refreshed by our day of rest and variety. With an early 
 start we were soon pulling down the river, and noon found 
 us several miles below the camp, having run eleven rapids 
 with no particular difficulty. A reference in my notes 
 reads: "Last one has a thousand rocks, and we could 
 not miss them all. My rowing is improving, and we 
 both got through fairly well." In the afternoon they 
 continued to come — an endless succession of small rapids, 
 with here and there a larger one. The canyon was similar 
 to that at our camp above, dark red walls with occasional 
 pines on the ledges, — a most charming combination 
 of colour. At 2.30 P.M. we reached Ashley Falls, a rapid 
 we had been expecting to see for some time. It was a 
 place of singular beauty. A dozen immense rocks had 
 fallen from the cliff on the left, almost completely block- 
 ing the channel — or so it seemed from one point of view. 
 But there was a crooked channel, not more than twelve 
 
 36 
 
SUSPICIOUS HOSTS 37 
 
 feet wide In places, through which the water shot like a 
 stream from a nozzle. 
 
 We wanted a motion picture of our dash through the 
 chute. But the location for the camera was hard to 
 secure, for a sheer bank of rock or low wall prevented us 
 from climbing out on the right side. We overcame this 
 by landing on a little bank at the base of the wall and by 
 dropping a boat down with a line to the head of the 
 rapid, where a break occurred in the wall. Jimmy was 
 left with the camera, the boat was pulled back, and we 
 prepared to run the rapid. 
 
 We first had to pass between two square rocks rising 
 eight feet above the water so close together that we could 
 not use the oars ; then, when past these, pull ten feet to 
 the right in order to clear the large rock at the end of 
 the main dam, or barrier, not more than twenty feet be- 
 low. To pull down bow first and try to make the turn, 
 would mean to smash broadside against this rock. It 
 could only be done by dropping stern first, and pulling 
 to the right under the protection of the first rocks ; though 
 it was doubtful if even this could be accomplished, the 
 current was so swift. The Defiance was ready first, the 
 Edith was to follow as closely as safety allowed. 
 
 Almost before I knew it I was in the narrow channel, 
 so close to the right rock that I had to ship that oar, 
 and pull altogether on the left one. As soon as I was 
 through I made a few quick strokes, but the current was 
 
38 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 too Strong for me ; and a corner of the stern struck with 
 a bang when I was almost clear. She paused as a wave 
 rolled over the decks, then rose quickly; a side current 
 caught the boat, whirling it around, and the bow struck. 
 I was still pulling with all my might, but everything 
 happened so quickly, — with the boat whirling first this 
 way, then that, — that my efforts were almost useless. 
 But after that second strike I did get in a few strokes, 
 and pulled into the quiet pool below the line of boulders. 
 
 Emery held his boat in better position than I had done, 
 and it looked for a while as if he would make it. But 
 the Edith struck on the stern, much as mine had done. 
 Then he pulled clear and joined me in the shelter of the 
 large rock, as cool and smiling as if he had been rowing 
 on a mill-pond. We were delighted to find that our boats 
 had suffered no damage from the blows they had received. 
 Striking on the ends as they did, the shock was dis- 
 tributed throughout the whole boat. 
 
 This completed our run for that day, and we went 
 into camp just below the "Falls." Emery painted the 
 name Edith on the bow of his boat, at this camp. 
 The name was given in honour of his four-year-old daugh- 
 ter, waiting for us at the Grand Canyon. I remarked 
 that as no one loved me, I would name my boat the 
 Defiance. But I hesitated about putting this name 
 on the bow. I would look rather foolish, I thought, if 
 the Defiance should be wrecked in the first bad rapid. 
 
SUSPICIOUS HOSTS 39 
 
 So the christening of my boat was left until such time as 
 she should have earned the title, although she was con- 
 stantly referred to as the Defiance. 
 
 We remained until noon of the following day at Ashley 
 Falls, exploring, repairing, and photographing this pic- 
 turesque spot. The canyon walls here dropped down to 
 beautiful, rolling foot-hills eight or nine hundred feet 
 high, tree covered as before but more open. The diver- 
 sity of rocks and hills was alluring. There was work to 
 be done and no pleasanter spot could be found in which 
 to do it. Among other things that had to be looked after 
 were some adjustments to the motion-picture camera — 
 usually referred to by us as the M. P. C. — this deli- 
 cate work always falling to Emery, for he alone could 
 do it. 
 
 There was much to interest us here. Major Powell 
 reported finding the name "Ashley" painted under an 
 overhanging rock on the left side of the river. Under- 
 neath was a date, rather indistinct, but found to have 
 been 1825, by Dellenbaugh, after carefully tracing the 
 career of Colonel Ashley who was responsible for the 
 record. Accompanied by a number of trappers, he made 
 the passage through this canyon at that early day. We 
 found a trace of the record. There were three letters — 
 A-s-h — the first two quite distinct, and underneath were 
 two black spots. It must have been pretty good paint 
 to leave a trace after eighty-six years ! 
 
4© THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 Resuming our journey we passed into deep canyon 
 again, — the deepest we had found up to this time, — with 
 steeply sloping, verdure-covered walls about 2700 feet high. 
 The rapids still continued. At one rapid the remark was 
 made that "Two feet of water would cover two hundred 
 rocks so that our boats would pass over them." But we 
 did not have the two feet needed. 
 
 We had previously been informed that some of these 
 mountains were the hiding-places of men who were 
 ''wanted" in the three states which bordered near here. 
 Some escaping prisoners had also been traced to the moun- 
 tains in this direction ; then all tracks had ceased. The 
 few peaceable ranchers who lived in these mountains 
 were much alarmed over these reports. We found one 
 such rancher on the plateau above the canyon, whom we 
 will call Johnson for convenience, — living in one of the 
 upper canyons. He sold us some provisions. In return 
 he asked us to help him swim some of his horses across 
 the river. He said the high water had taken out his own 
 boat. The horses were rounded up in a mountain-hidden 
 valley and driven into the water ahead of the boat. 
 After securing the horses, Johnson's welcome seemed to 
 turn to suspicion and he questioned our reasons for being 
 there, wanting to know what we could find in that wild 
 country to interest us. Johnson's sons, of whom there 
 were several, seemed to put in most of their time at hunt- 
 ing and trapping, never leaving the house without a gun. 
 
•■;« 
 
SUSPICIOUS HOSTS 4! 
 
 The cabin home looked like an arsenal, revolvers and guns 
 hanging on all the walls — even his daughters being famil- 
 iar with their use. Although we had been very well 
 treated after all, Mrs. Johnson especially having been 
 very kind to us, we felt just a little relieved when the 
 Johnson ranch was left behind. We use, in fact, a ficti- 
 tious name, not caring to visit on them the suspicions 
 we ourselves felt in return. 
 
 Another morning passed in repairing the M. P. camera, 
 and another afternoon's work was necessary to get us 
 out of the walls and the rapids of Red Canyon. But on 
 the evening of the 20th, we did get out, and pulled into 
 an open country known as Brown's Park, one week after 
 entering Flaming Gorge. It had not been very fast 
 travelling ; but we were through, and with no mishap 
 more serious than a split board on the side of my boat. 
 Under favourable conditions, and in experienced hands, 
 this distance might have been covered in three days. 
 But meanwhile, we were gaining a lot of experience. 
 
 About the lower end of Red Canyon the river turned 
 directly east, paralleling the northern boundary of Utah, 
 and continued to flow in this general direction until it 
 crossed into Colorado. 
 
 On emerging from Red Canyon we spied a ranch 
 house or log cabin close to the river. The doors were 
 open and there were many tracks in the sand, so we 
 thought some one must be about. On approaching the 
 
42 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 house, however, we found the place was deserted, but 
 with furniture, books, and pictures piled on the floor in 
 the utmost confusion, as if the occupants had left in a 
 great hurry. This surmise afterward proved to be cor- 
 rect ; for we learned that the rancher had been murdered 
 for his money, his body having been found in a boat 
 farther down the river. Suspicion pointed to an old 
 employee who had been seen lurking near the place. 
 He was traced to the railroad, over a hundred miles to the 
 north ; but made his escape and was never caught. 
 
 We found Brown's Park, once known as Brown's Hole, 
 to be a beautiful valley several miles in width, and 
 thirty-five or forty miles in length. The upper end of 
 the valley was rugged in places, with rocky hills two or 
 three hundred feet high. To the south, a few miles away, 
 were the mountains, a continuation of those we had come 
 through. We saw many cattle scattered over some of 
 these rocky hills, grazing on the bunch-grass. At one 
 place our course led us through a little canyon about 
 two miles long, and scarcely more than two hundred 
 feet deep. This was Swallow Canyon — a name suggested 
 by the many birds of that species which had covered the 
 canyon's walls with their little clay nests. The open- 
 ings of some of these nests were so small that it scarcely 
 seemed possible for a bird to enter. 
 
 The water was deep and quiet in this short canyon, 
 and a hard wind blowing up the stream made it difficult 
 
SUSPICIOUS HOSTS 43 
 
 for us to gain any headway. In this case, too, the forms 
 of the boat were against us. With the keel removed and 
 with their high sides catching the wind, they were carried 
 back and forth like small balloons. Well, we could put 
 up with it for a while, for those very features would 
 prove most valuable in the rough-water canyons which 
 were to follow ! 
 
 Emerging from the canyon at last, we saw a ferry 
 loaded with sheep crossing the stream. On the left 
 shore was a large corral, also filled with sheep which a 
 half dozen men were driving back and forth into dif- 
 ferent compartments. Later these men told us there 
 were 2400 sheep in the flock. We took their word for it, 
 making no attempt to count them. The foreman of 
 the ranch agreed to sell us some sugar and honey, — 
 these two articles being a welcome addition to our list 
 of supplies, which were beginning to show the effects 
 of our voracious appetites. 
 
 We found many other log cabins and ranches as we 
 proceeded. Some of them were deserted ; at others men 
 were busily engaged in cutting hay or the wild grass that 
 grew in the bottoms. The fragrance of new-mown hay 
 was in the air. Young boys and women were among 
 these busy workers, some of the women being seated on 
 large harvesters, handling the horses with as much dex- 
 terity as any of the men. 
 
 The entire trip through this pretty valley was full 
 
44 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 of interest. We were hailed from the shore by some of 
 the hay ranchers, it being a novel sight to them to see a 
 river expedition. At one or two of these places we 
 asked the reason for the deserted ranches above, and 
 were given evasive answers. Finally we were told that 
 cattle rustlers from the mountains made it so hard for 
 the ranchers in the valleys that there was nothing for 
 them to do but get out. They told us, also, that we were 
 fortunate to get away from Johnson^s ranch with our 
 valuables ! Our former host, we were told, had com- 
 mitted many depredations and had served one term for 
 cattle stealing. Officers, disguised as prospectors, had 
 taken employment with him and helped him kill and 
 skin some cattle ; the skins, with their telltale brands, 
 having been partially burned and buried. On this 
 evidence he was afterwards convicted. 
 
 Our cool welcome by the Johnsons, their suspicions 
 of us, the sinister arsenal of guns and pistols, all was 
 explained ! Quite likely some of these weapons had 
 been trained against us by the trappers on the chance 
 that we were either officers of the law, or competitors 
 in the horse-stealing industry. For that matter we were 
 actually guilty of the latter count, for come to think of it, 
 we ourselves had helped them steal eight horses and a 
 colt ! 
 
 The entire trip through this pretty valley was full of 
 interest. It was all so different from anything seen above. 
 
Coi)!/righl by Kolb Bros. 
 
 THE ROCKS WERE DARK RED : OCCASIONAL PINES GREW ON THE LEDGES, MAKING 
 A CHARMING COMBINATION OF COLOUR. 
 
SUSPICIOUS HOSTS 45 
 
 There were great bottoms that gave evidence of having 
 recently been overflooded, though now covered with 
 Cottonwood trees, gorgeous in their autumn foliage. We 
 had often wondered where all the driftwood that floated 
 down the Colorado came from ; but after seeing those 
 unnumbered acres of cottonwoods we ceased to wonder. 
 
 There were many beaver slides on the banks ; and 
 in places, numberless trees had been felled by these in- 
 dustrious animals. On one or two occasions we narrowly 
 escaped splitting the sides of our boats on snags of trees 
 which the beavers had buried in the bottom of the stream. 
 We saw no beaver dams on the river; they were not 
 necessary, for deep, quiet pools existed everywhere in 
 Brown's Park. We saw two beavers in this section. 
 One of these rose, porpoise-like, to the top of the water, 
 stared at us a moment, then brought his tail down with a 
 resounding smack on the top of the water, and disappeared, 
 to enter his home by the subterranean route, no doubt. 
 
 The river was gradually losing its clear colour, for the 
 sand-bars were beginning to "work out," or break, mak- 
 ing the water quite roily. In some sections of Brown's 
 Park we grounded on these sand-bars, making it neces- 
 sary for us to get out into the water, pushing and pulling 
 on the boats until deeper water was reached. Sometimes 
 the deep water came when least expected, the sand-bars 
 having a disconcerting way of dropping off abruptly on 
 the downstream side. Jimmy stepped off the edge 
 
46 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 of one of these hidden ledges while working with a boat, 
 and was for some time in no condition to appreciate our 
 ill-concealed mirth. 
 
 Often we would be passing along on perfectly smooth 
 water, when suddenly a turmoil would rise all about us, 
 as though a geyser had broken out below the surface. 
 If we happened to be directly over it, the boat would be 
 rocked back and forth for a while ; then all would be 
 peaceful again. This was most often caused by the 
 ledges of sand, anywhere from three to ten feet high, 
 breaking down or falling forward as their bases were 
 undermined. In a single night a bar of this kind will 
 work upstream for a distance of several feet ; then the 
 sand will be carried down with the current to lodge again 
 in some quiet pool, and again be carried on as before. 
 This action gives rise to long lines of regular waves or 
 swells extending for some distance down the stream. 
 These are usually referred to as sand-waves. These 
 waves increase in size in high water ; and the monotonous 
 thump, thump of the boat's bottom upon them is any- 
 thing but pleasant, especially if one is trying to make 
 fast time. 
 
 So, with something new at every turn, we pulled lazily 
 through Brown's Park, shooting at ducks and geese when 
 we came near them, snapping our cameras when a pic- 
 ture presented itself, and observing the animal life along 
 the stream. 
 
SUSPICIOUS HOSTS 47 
 
 We stopped at one hay-ranch close to the Utah-Colo- 
 rado lineand chatted awhile with the workers. A pleasant- 
 faced woman named Mrs. Chew asked us to deliver a 
 message at a ranch a mile or two below. Here also 
 was the post-office of Lodore, Colorado, located a short 
 distance above the canyon of the same name. Mrs. 
 Chew informed us that they had another ranch at the 
 lower end of Lodore Canyon and asked us to look them 
 up when we got through, remarking : 
 
 "You may have trouble, you know. Two of my sons 
 once tried it. They lost their boat, had to climb out, 
 and nearly starved before they reached home." 
 
 The post-office at the ranch, found as described, 
 without another home in sight, was a welcome sight to 
 us for several reasons. One reason was that it afforded 
 shelter from a heavy downpour of rain that greeted us as 
 we neared it, and a better reason still was, that it gave 
 us a chance to write and mail some letters to those who 
 would be most anxious to hear from us. 
 
 Among the messages we mailed was a picture post- 
 card of Coney Island at night. In some way this card 
 had slipped between the leaves of a book that I had 
 brought from the East. I sent it out, addressed to a 
 friend who would understand the joke ; writing under- 
 neath the picture, "We have an abundance of such scenery 
 here." The young woman who had charge of the office 
 looked at the card in amazement. It was evidently some- 
 
48 THROUGH IHt (JRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING 10 MEXICO 
 
 thing new to her. She told us she had never been to the 
 railroad, and that her brother took the mail out on horse- 
 back to Steamboat, Colorado, 140 miles distant. 
 
 The rain hav^ing ceased, we returned to our boats, 
 pausing to admire a rainbow that arched above the 
 canyon in the mountains, toward which we were headed. 
 We remarked, jokingly, to Jimmy that this was a good 
 sign, lie replied without smiling that he "hoped so." 
 Jimmy's songs had long since ceased, and we suspected 
 him of homesickness. With the exception of a short 
 visit to some friends on a large ranch, Jimmy had never 
 been away from his home in San Francisco. This pres- 
 ent experience was quite a contrast, to be sure ! We did 
 what we could to keep him cheered up, but with little 
 success. Jimmy had intimated that he would prefer 
 to leave at the first opportunity to reach a railroad, and 
 wc willingly agreed to help him in every possible way. 
 Emery and I also agreed between ourselves that we would 
 not take any unnecessary risks with him ; but would 
 leave him out of the boats at all rapids, if there was any 
 passage around them. 
 
 The river had taken a sharp turn to the south soon 
 after passing the post-office, heading directly towards 
 the mountains. Camp was pitched just above the 
 mouth of Lodore. This twenty-mile canyon bears a 
 very unsavory reputation, having a descent of 425 feet 
 in that short distance, tlie greater part of the fall occurring 
 
SUSPICIOUS HOSTS 49 
 
 in a space of twelve miles. This would mean wild water 
 somewhere ! 
 
 We were camped on a spot recently occupied by some 
 engineers of the United States Conservation Department, 
 who had been trying to determine if it was feasible to 
 dam the river at this place. The plan was to flood the 
 whole of Brown's Park and divert the water through 
 the mountains by a tunnel to land suitable for cultiva- 
 tion, and in addition, allow the muddy water to settle and 
 so prevent the vast amount of silt from being washed on 
 down, eventually to the mouth of the Colorado. The 
 location seemed admirably suited for this stupendous 
 project. But holes drilled beside the river failed to find 
 bottom, as nothing but quicksand existed even at a 
 depth of nearly three hundred feet ; and without a strong 
 foundation, such a dam would be utterly useless. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 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 coun- 
 try, with its pleasant ranches and its grazing cattle, its 
 rolling, gray, sage-covered hills and its wild grass and cot- 
 tonwood-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 
 
 50 
 
THE BATTLE WITH LODORE 5 1 
 
 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 path- 
 way — so slowly that the river could saw away and main- 
 tain 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 
 
52 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 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 J-inch oak reenforced with bulk- 
 heads. 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 be- 
 tween 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 efi"ect of this was to 
 shoot the ends of both oars up past my face. The opera- 
 tor said that I made a grimace just as he took a picture 
 of the scrimmage. 
 
THE BATTLE WITH LODORE 53 
 
 We landed on the island below and talked of camping 
 there for the night, as it was getting late ; but the island 
 was 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. 
 
 We had been hoping for a rest the next day — Sun- 
 day — 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 advan- 
 tage. 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. Ele- 
 vating 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. Hav- 
 ing concluded that Disaster Falls was an ideal place for 
 
54 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 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 oper- 
 ation 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 ma- 
 chine, turning the crank as I climbed out. 
 
THE BATTLE WITH LODORE 55 
 
 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 
 the 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 unrunna- 
 ble 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 care- 
 fully worked our boats along the shore. 
 
 Between the delays of rain, with stops for picture mak- 
 ing, 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 
 
56 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 of 50 feet in little more than half a mile. On the even- 
 ing 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 follow- 
 ing morning. The narrow canyon was gloomy and dark- 
 ened 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. 
 
 Less than an hour later I repeated my brother's per- 
 formance, 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, climb- 
 ing on to the rock that caused the disaster, I man- 
 aged to catch the rope and held the boat. In the 
 meantime Emery was in a whirlpool below, trying to 
 

THE BATTLE WITH LODORE 57 
 
 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 De- 
 fiance 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 can- 
 vas, 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 
 
58 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 away from the river instead of toward it. We finally 
 got the tent up, then threw everything into it in an indis- 
 criminate 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 instruc- 
 tions 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 paraf- 
 fine 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 seal- 
 
THE BATTLE WITH LODORE 59 
 
 ing 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 
 a 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 can- 
 yon, 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 for- 
 tunate 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, 
 
6o THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 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 com- 
 monly 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 whirl- 
 pool, 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 helpless- 
 ness. Our captured fish were given a bath in a bucket 
 of rain-water, and we had a fish dinner. 
 
 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 BATTLE WITH LODORE 6l 
 
 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 de- 
 termined 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 down- 
 stream. 
 
 It continued to rain by spells that night and the next 
 morning. About ii 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 
 
62 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 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 con- 
 struction, 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, al- 
 though 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 reach- 
 ing 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, 
 
THE BATTLE WITH LODORE 63 
 
 piled up at the end of the rapid, furnished us with all 
 the 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. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 hell's half mile 
 
 We began our work the next morning where we left 
 off the night before by bringing the remaining boat 
 down along the edge of the "Triplets." Then, while 
 Emery cooked the breakfast, Jimmy and I "broke camp." 
 The beds came first. The air had been released from the 
 mattresses before we got up, — one way of saving time. 
 A change of dry clothing was placed with each bed, and 
 they were rolled as tightly as the two of us could do it, 
 after which they were strapped, placed in a rubber sack, 
 with a canvas sack over that, both these sacks being 
 laced at the top. The tent — one of those so-called 
 balloon silk compositions — made a very small roll ; 
 the dark-room tent, with its three plies of cloth, made 
 the largest bundle of the lot. Everything had been 
 taken from the boats, and made quite a pile of dunnage, 
 when it was all collected in a pile ready for loading. 
 After the dishes were washed they were packed in a box, 
 the smoke-covered pots and pans being placed in a sack. 
 Everything was sorted and piled before the loading 
 
 64 
 
Copyright by Kolb Bros. 
 'THE CANYON WAS GLOOMY, AND DARKENED WITH SHREDS OF CLOUDS." 
 
HELL'S HALF MILE 65 
 
 commenced. An equal division of nearly everything 
 was made, so that the loss of one boat and its cargo 
 would only partially cripple the expedition. The photo- 
 graphic plates and films, in protecting canvas sacks, 
 were first disposed of, being stored in the tin-lined hatches 
 in the bow of the boats. Two of the smaller rolls con- 
 taining bedding, or clothing ; a sack of flour, and half of 
 the cameras completed the loads for the forward com- 
 partments. Five or six tin and wooden boxes, filled with 
 provisions, went into the large compartments under the 
 stern. A box containing tools and hardware for the 
 inevitable repairs, and the weightier provisions — such 
 as canned milk and canned meats — went in first. 
 This served as ballast for the boats. Then the other 
 provisions followed, the remaining rolls of bedding and 
 tents being squeezed in on top. This compartment, 
 with careful packing, would hold as much as two ordinary- 
 sized trunks, but squeezing it all in through the small 
 hatchway, or opening on top, was not an easy job. One 
 thing we guarded very carefully from this time on was a 
 waterproofed sack containing sugar. The muddy water 
 had entered the top of this sack in our upset, and a 
 liquefied sugar, or brown-coloured syrup, was used in our 
 coffee and on our breakfast foods after that. It gradu- 
 ally dried out, and our emptied cups would contain a 
 sediment of mud in the bottom. 
 
 Such was our morning routine, although it was not 
 
66 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 often that everything was taken from the boats, and it 
 only happened in this case because we made a portage 
 the night before. 
 
 Our work was all undone an hour later, when we came 
 to the sharp descent known as Hell's Half Mile. A 
 section of a cliif had fallen from above, and was shat- 
 tered into a hundred fragments, large and small ; gigantic 
 rocks were scattered on both shores and through the 
 river bed, not an orderly array of rocks such as that 
 found at Ashley Falls, but a riotous mass, looking as 
 though they had been hurled from the sky above. The 
 stripped trunk of an eight-foot tree, with roots extend- 
 ing over the river, had been deposited by a recent flood 
 on top of the principal barrier. All this was found about 
 fifty yards below the beginning of the most violent de- 
 scent in Lodore Canyon. It would have been difficult 
 enough without this last complication ; the barrier 
 seemed next to insurmountable, tired and handicapped 
 with heavy boats as we were. 
 
 With a weary sigh we dropped our boats to the head 
 of the rapid and prepared to make the portage. Our 
 previous work was as nothing to this. Rounded lime- 
 stone boulders, hard as flint and covered with a thin 
 slime of mud from the recent rise, caused us to slip 
 and fall many times. Then we dragged ourselves and 
 loads up the sloping walls. They were cut with gul- 
 lies from the recent rains ; low scraggy cedars caught 
 
HELL'S HALF MILE 67 
 
 at our loads, or tore our clothes, as we staggered along ; 
 the muddy earth stuck to our shoes, or caused our feet 
 to slip from under us as we climbed, first two or three 
 hundred feet above the water, then close to the river's 
 edge. Three-fourths of a mile of such work brought us 
 to a level place below the rapid. It took nine loads to 
 empty one boat. 
 
 Darkness came on before our boats were emptied, so 
 they were securely tied in quiet water at the head of 
 the rapid, and left for the morning. 
 
 The next day found Emery and me at work on the 
 boats, while Jimmy was stationed on the shore with the 
 motion-picture camera. This wild scene, with its score 
 of shooting currents, was too good a view to miss. With 
 life-preservers inflated and adjusted, Emery sat in the 
 boat at the oars, pulling against the current, lessening 
 the velocity with which the boat was carried down tow- 
 ard the main barrier, while I followed on the shore, 
 holding a rope, and dropped him down, a little at a time, 
 until the water became too rough and the rocks too nu- 
 merous. All directions were given with signals ; the human 
 voice was of little avail in the turmoil. We kept the 
 boats in the water as long as it was safe to do so, for it 
 greatly lessened the hard work of a portage. With one 
 end of the boat floating on the water, an ordinary lift 
 would take the other end over a rock with insufficient 
 water above it to float the boat. Then the boat was 
 
68 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 balanced on the rock, the opposite end was lifted, she 
 was shoved forward and dropped in the water again, 
 and another threatening rock was passed. Foot by foot 
 we fought our way, now on the shore, now waist deep in 
 the water below some protecting boulder, threatened 
 every moment by the whirling water that struggled to 
 drag us into the torrent. The sand and water collecting 
 in our clothes weighted us down ; the chill of standing in 
 the cold water numbed our limbs. Finally the barrier 
 was reached and the boats were run out close to the end, 
 and tied in a quiet pool, while we devised some method 
 of getting them past or over this obstruction. 
 
 Directly underneath and beyond the roots of the tree 
 were large rounded boulders, covered with slippery mud. 
 Past this barrier the full force of the water raced, to hurl 
 itself and divide its current against another rock. It 
 was useless to try to take a boat around the end of the 
 rock. The boat's sides, three-eighths of an inch thick, 
 would be crushed like a cardboard box. If lifted into 
 the V-shaped groove, the weight of the boats would wedge 
 them and crush their sides. Fortunately an upright 
 log was found tightly wedged between these boulders. 
 A strong limb, with one end resting on a rock opposite, 
 was nailed to this log ; a triangle of stout sticks, with 
 the point down, was placed opposite this first limb, on 
 the same level, and was fastened to the upright log with 
 still another piece ; and another difficulty was overcome. 
 
HELL'S HALF MILE 69 
 
 With a short rope fastened to the Iron bar or hand- 
 hold on the stern, this end was lifted on to the cross-piece, 
 the bow sticking into the water at a sharp angle. The 
 short rope was tied to the stump, so we would not lose 
 what we had gained. The longer rope from the bow was 
 thrown over the roots of the tree above, then we both 
 pulled on the rope, until finally the bow was on a level 
 with the stern. She was pulled forward, the ropes were 
 loosened and the boat rested on the cross-pieces. The 
 motion-picture camera was transferred so as to command 
 a view of the lower side of the barrier, then the boat was 
 carefully tilted, and slid forward, a little at a time, until 
 she finally gained headway, nearly jerking the rope from 
 our hands, and shot into the pool below. 
 
 We enjoyed the wildest ride we had experienced up 
 to this time in running the lower end of this rapid. The 
 balance of the day was spent in the same camp below 
 the rapid. Our tent was put up in a group of box elder 
 trees, — the first trees of this species we had seen. Red 
 cedar trees dotted the rocky slopes, while the larger 
 pines became scarce at the river's edge, and gathered 
 near the top of the canyon's walls. The dark red rocks 
 near the bottom were covered with a light blue-tinted 
 stratum of limestone, similar to the fallen rocks found 
 in the rapid above. In one land-slide, evidently struck 
 with some rolling rock, lay the body of a small deer. 
 We saw many mountain sheep tracks, but failed to see 
 
70 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 the sheep. Many dead fish, their gills filled with the 
 slimy mud from the recent rise, floated past us, or lay 
 half buried in the mud. These things were noticed as 
 we went about our duties, for we were too weary to do 
 any exploring. 
 
 The next morning, Monday, October the 2d, saw 
 us making arrangements for the final run that would 
 take us out of Lodore Canyon. No doubt it was a beau- 
 tiful and a wonderful place, but none of us seemed sorry 
 to leave it behind. For ten days we had not had a single 
 day entirely free from rain, and instead of having a chance 
 to run rapids, it seemed as if we had spent an entire week 
 in carrying our loads, or in lining our boats through the 
 canyon. The canyon walls lost much of their pre- 
 cipitous character as we neared the end of the canyon. 
 
 A short run took us over the few rapids that remained, 
 and at a turn ahead we saw a 300-foot ridge, brilliantly 
 tinted in many colours, — light and golden yellows, orange 
 and red, purple and lavender, — and composed of number- 
 less wafer-like layers of rock, uptilted, so that the broken 
 ends looked like the spines of a gigantic fish's back. 
 A sharp turn to the left soon brought us to the end of this 
 ridge, close to the bottom of a smooth, sheer wall. Across 
 a wide, level point of sand we could see a large stream, 
 the Yampa River, flowing from the East to join its waters 
 with those of the Green. This was the end of Lodore 
 Canyon. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 JIMMY GOES OVER THE MOUNTAIN 
 
 The Yampa, or Bear River, was a welcome sight to 
 us in spite of its disagreeable whitish yellow, clay colour ; 
 quite different from the red water of the Green River. 
 The new stream meant more water in the channel, some- 
 thing we needed badly, as our past tribulations showed. 
 The recent rise on the Green had subsided a little, but 
 we now had a much higher stage than when we entered 
 Lodore. Quite likely the new conditions gave us six 
 feet of water above the low water on which we had been 
 travelling. Would it increase or diminish our dangers f 
 We were willing, Emery and I, even anxious, to risk our 
 chances on the higher water. 
 
 Directly opposite the Yampa, the right shore of the 
 Green went up sheer about 700 feet high, indeed it seemed 
 to overhang a trifle. This had been named Echo Cliffs 
 by Powell's party. The cliffs gave a remarkable echo, 
 repeating seven words plainly when shouted from the 
 edge of the Yampa a hundred yards away, and would 
 doubtless repeat more if shouted from the farther shore 
 
 71 
 
72 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 of the Yampa. Echo Cliffs, we found, were in the form 
 of a peninsula and terminated just below this point where 
 we stood, the river doubling back on the other side of the 
 cliff. On the left side of the river, the walls fell back, 
 leaving a flat, level space of about twenty-five acres. 
 Here was a little ranch of which Mrs. Chew had told us. 
 The Chew ranch lay back from the river on top of the 
 cliffs. We found no one at home here at this first ranch, 
 but there was evidence of recent habitation. There were 
 a few peach trees, and a small garden, while beyond this 
 were two buildings, — little shacks in a dilapidated 
 condition. The doors were off their hinges and leaned 
 against the building, a few logs being placed against the 
 doors. Past the dooryard, coming out of a small canyon 
 above the ranch, ran a little brook ; up this canyon was 
 a trail, the outlet to the ranch above. We camped near 
 the mouth of the stream. 
 
 It had been agreed upon the night before, that we 
 should endeavour to make arrangements to have Jimmy 
 taken out on horseback over the mountains. Before 
 looking for the ranch, however, we asked him if he did not 
 wish to reconsider his decision to leave here. We pointed 
 out that Jensen, Utah, was only fifty miles away, half that 
 distance being in quiet water, and that the worst canyon 
 was behind us. But he said he had enough of the river, 
 and preferred to see what could be done. While I busied 
 myself about camp, he and Emery left for the ranch. 
 
JIMMY GOES OVER THE MOUNTAIN 73 
 
 About seven o'clock that evening they returned in 
 great spirits. They had found the ranch without any 
 trouble, nearly three miles from our camp. Mrs. Chew 
 was there and gave them a hearty welcome. She had 
 often wondered what had become of us. She invited 
 the boys to remain for supper, which they did. They 
 talked over the matter of transportation for Jimmy. 
 As luck would have it, Mrs. Chew was going to drive 
 over to Jensen, and Vernal, Utah, in two days' time, and 
 agreed to take Jimmy along. 
 
 Early the next morning two boys, one about fourteen 
 years old the other a little older, rode down from the 
 ranch. Some of their horses were pastured across the 
 river and they had come after these. After a short 
 visit they got into the Edith with Emery and prepared to 
 cross over to the pasture, which was a mile or more down- 
 stream. They were soon out of our sight. Jimmy and I 
 remained at the camp, taking pictures, packing his 
 belongings, and finding many odd jobs to be done. In 
 about three hours the boys returned with their horses. 
 The horses were quite gentle, and they had no difficulty 
 in swimming them across. A young colt, too feeble to 
 swim, placed its fore feet on its mother's flanks and was 
 ferried across in that way. Then they were driven over 
 a narrow trail skirting the cliff, 300 feet above the river. 
 No one, looking from the river, would have imagined that 
 any trail, over which horses could be driven, existed. 
 
74 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 The boys informed us that we were expected at the 
 ranch for dinner, and would listen to no refusal, so up 
 we went, although we would have to make a second trip 
 that day. The view of the ranch was another of those 
 wonderful scenic changes which we were to meet with 
 everywhere in this region. The flat on which we stood 
 was simply a pocket, shut in by the round-domed moun- 
 tains, with a pass, or an opening, to the east side. A 
 small stream ran down a mountain side, spreading over 
 the rocks, and glistening in the sunlight. This same 
 stream passed the ranch, and ran on down through the 
 narrow canyon up which we had come. The ranch itself 
 was refreshing. The buildings were new, some were 
 under construction ; but there was considerable ground 
 under cultivation. Cattle were scattered up the valley, 
 or dotted the rocky slopes below the mountains. A wild 
 spot this, on the borderland of the three states. None but 
 people of fortitude, or even of daring, would think of 
 taking up a homestead in this secluded spot. The 
 same rumours of the escaped prisoners had drifted in here. 
 It was Mr. Chew who gave us the information we have 
 previously quoted concerning the murdered man. He had 
 found the body in the boat, in front of the post-office. 
 He further stated that others in the mountains would not 
 hesitate at anything to drive out those who were trying 
 to improve a homestead as he was doing, and that it was 
 a common event to find the carcasses of his own horses 
 
JIMMY GOES OVER THE MOUNTAIN 75 
 
 or cattle which had been ruthlessly slaughtered. This 
 was the reason for putting the horses across the river. 
 There they were safe, for none could approach them save 
 by going past the ranch, or coming through Lodore 
 Canyon. 
 
 Mr. Chew also told us of the Snyders, who had lost 
 their boat in upper Lodore Canyon, and of how he had 
 given them a horse and provisions to aid them in reaching 
 the settlements. This did not prevent the elder Snyder 
 from coming back to trap the next year, much to Mr. 
 Chew's disgust. He thought one experience should be 
 enough for any man. 
 
 While we were talking, a very old, bearded man rode in 
 on a horse. He was Pat Lynch, the owner of the little 
 ranch by the river. He was a real old-timer, having 
 been in Brown's Park when Major Powell was surveying 
 that section of the country. He told us that he had 
 been hired to get some meat for the party, and had killed 
 five mountain sheep. He was so old that he scarcely 
 knew what he was talking about, rambling from one 
 subject to another ; and would have us listening with im- 
 patience to hear the end of some wonderful tale of the 
 early days, when he would suddenly switch off on to an 
 entirely different subject, leaving the first unfinished. 
 
 In spite of his years he was quite active, having broken 
 the horse on which he rode, bareback, without assistance. 
 We were told that he placed a spring or trap gun in his 
 
76 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 houses at the river, ready to greet any prying marauder. 
 The last we saw of him he was on his way to the post- 
 office, miles away, to draw his pension for service in the 
 Civil War. 
 
 Returning to the transportation of Jimmy, it was 
 settled that the Chews were to leave early the next morning. 
 They also agreed to take out our exposed films and plates 
 for us — something we had not counted on, but too good 
 a chance to lose. We all three returned to the boats and 
 packed the stuff that was to go out ; then went back to 
 the ranch with Jimmy. It was late — after midnight — 
 when we reached there, and we did not disturb any one. 
 Jimmy's blankets were unrolled in the wagon, so there 
 would be no question about his going out. He was to 
 go to Jensen, or Vernal, and there await us, keeping our 
 films until we arrived. We knew they were in good hands. 
 It was with some difficulty that we found our way back 
 to our camp. The trail was difficult and it was pitch 
 dark. My boat had been taken down to where Emery 
 left the Edith when the horses were driven across, and this 
 extra distance was added to our walk. 
 
 We were laggard the next morning, and in no hurry 
 to resume our work. We rearranged our loads in the 
 boats ; with one less man and considerable less baggage 
 as well, they were lighter by far. Our chances looked 
 much more favourable for an easier passage. Not only 
 were these things in our favour, but in addition we felt 
 
JIMMY GOES OVER THE MOUNTAIN 77 
 
 that we had served our apprenticeship at navigation In 
 rapid water, and we were just as capable of meeting the 
 rapids to follow as if we had years of experience to our 
 record. On summing up we found that the river had 
 dropped looo feet since leaving Green River, Wyoming, 
 and that 5000 feet remained, to put us on a level with 
 the ocean. Our difficulties would depend, of course, 
 on how this fall was distributed. Most of the fall behind 
 was found In Lodore and Red canyons. It was doubtful 
 Indeed If any section would have a more rapid fall than 
 Lodore Canyon. 
 
 There Is a certain verse of wisdom which says that 
 "Pride goeth before a fall," but perhaps it was just as 
 well for us if we were a little bit elated by our past achieve- 
 ments as long as we had to go through with the balance 
 of our self-imposed task. Confidence, In a proper degree, 
 is a great help when real diflftcultles have to be surmounted. 
 We were full of confidence that day when we pulled away 
 about noon into Whirlpool Canyon, Whirlpool Canyon 
 being next on the list. The camp we were about to leave 
 was directly opposite Lodore Canyon, where It ran against 
 the upended cliff. The gorgeous colours were the same 
 as those on the opposite side, and, to a certain degree, were 
 also found in Whirlpool Canyon. 
 
 Our two and a half hours' dash through the fourteen 
 miles of rapid water in Whirlpool Canyon put us In a 
 joyful frame of mind. Rapid after rapid was left behind 
 
78 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 US without a pause in our rowing, with only a hasty 
 survey standing on the deck of the boats before going 
 over. Others that were free from rocks were rowed into 
 bow first, the big waves breaking over our boats and our- 
 selves. We bailed while drifting in the quiet stretches, 
 then got ready for the next rapids. Two large rapids 
 only were looked over from the shore and these were run 
 in the same manner. We could hardly believe it was true 
 when we emerged from the mountain so quickly into a 
 little flat park or valley sheltered in the hills. This was 
 Island or Rainbow Park, the latter name being suggested 
 by the brilliant colouring of the rocks, in the mountains 
 to our left. Perhaps the form of the rocks themselves 
 helped a little, for here was one end of the rainbow of rock 
 which began on the other side of the mountains. Jagged- 
 edged canyons looking almost as if their sides had been 
 rent asunder came out of these mountains. There was 
 very little dark red here except away on top, 2300 feet 
 above, where a covering of pines made a soft background 
 for light-cream and gorgeous yellow-coloured pinnacles, or 
 rocky walls of pink and purple and delicate shades of 
 various hues. Large cottonwoods appeared again along 
 the river banks, in brilliant autumn colours, adding to 
 the beauties of the scene. Back from the river, to the 
 west, stretched the level park, well covered with bunch- 
 grass on which some cattle grazed, an occasional small 
 prickly pear cactus, and the ever present, pungent sage. 
 
JIMMY GOES OVER THE MOUNTAIN 79 
 
 Verdure-covered islands dotted the course of the stream, 
 which was quiet and sluggish, doubling back and forth 
 like a serpent over many a useless mile. Nine miles of 
 rowing brought us back to a point about three miles 
 from the mouth of Whirlpool Canyon ; where the river 
 again enters the mountain, deliberately choosing this 
 course to one, unobstructed for several miles, to the 
 right. 
 
 The next gorge was Split Mountain Canyon, so 
 named because the stream divided the ridge length- 
 wise, from one end to the other. It was short, only nine 
 miles long, with a depth of 2700 feet in the centre of the 
 canyon. Three miles of the nine were put behind us 
 before we camped that evening. These were run in 
 the same manner as the rapids of Whirlpool, scarcely 
 pausing to look them over, but these rapids were bigger, 
 much bigger. One we thought was just formed or at 
 least increased in size by a great slide of rock that had 
 fallen since the recent rains. We just escaped trouble in 
 this rapid, both boats going over a large rock with a 
 great cresting wave below, and followed by a very rough 
 rapid. Emery was standing on top of a fifteen-foot 
 rock below the rapid when I went over, and for a few 
 moments could see nothing of my boat, hardly believing 
 it possible that I had come through without a scratch. 
 These rapids with the high water looked more like rapids 
 we had seen in the Grand Canyon, and were very unlike 
 
8o THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 the shallow water of a week previous. We had only- 
 travelled a half day, but felt as if it had been a very com- 
 plete day when we camped at the foot of a rock slide on 
 the right, just above another big rapid. 
 
 On Thursday, October 5, Camp No. 20 was left 
 behind. The rapid below the camp was big, big enough 
 for a moving picture, so we took each other in turns as 
 we ran the rapid. More rapids followed, but these were 
 not so large. A few sharp-pointed spires of tinted rock 
 lifted above us a thousand feet or more. Framed in 
 with the branches of the near-by cottonwood trees, they 
 made a charming picture. Less than three hours brought 
 us to the end of Split Mountain Canyon, and the last 
 bad water we were to have for some time. Just before 
 leaving the canyon, we came to some curious grottos, or 
 alcoves, under the rock walls on the left shore. The river 
 has cut into these until they overhang, some of them 
 twenty-five feet or over. In one of these was a beaver 
 lying on a pile of floating sticks. Although we passed 
 quite close, the beaver never moved, and we did not 
 molest it. 
 
 Another shower greeted us as we emerged into the 
 Uinta Valley as it is called by the Ute Indians. This 
 valley is eighty-seven miles long. It did not have the 
 fertileness of Brown's Park, being raised in bare rolling 
 hills, runnelled and gullied by the elements. The water 
 was quiet here, and hard rowing was necessary to make 
 
JIMMY GOES OVER THE MOUNTAIN 8l 
 
 any progress. We had gone about seven miles when we 
 spied a large placer dredge close to the river. To the 
 uninitiated this dredge would look much like a dredging 
 steamboat out of water, but digging its own channel, 
 which is what it really does. 
 
 Great beds of gravel lay on either side of the river and 
 placer gold in large or small quantities, but usually the 
 latter is likely to exist in these beds. When a dredge 
 like the one found here is to be installed, an opening is 
 made in the river's bank leading to an excavation which 
 has been made, then a large flatboat is floated in this. 
 The dredging machinery is on this float, as well as most of 
 the machinery through which the gravel is passed ac- 
 companied by a stream of water ; then with quicksilver 
 and rockers of various designs, the gold is separated from 
 the gravel and sand. 
 
 Numerous small buildings were standing near the 
 dredge, but the buildings were empty, and the dredge 
 lay idle. We saw many fresh tracks of men and horses 
 and were welcomed by a sleek, well-fed cat, but found the 
 place was deserted. All buildings were open and in one 
 was a telephone. We were anxious to hear just where 
 we were, so we used the telephone and explained what 
 we wanted to know. The "Central" informed us that 
 we were about nine miles from Jensen, so we returned 
 to the boats and pulled with a will through a land that 
 was no longer barren, but with cozy ranch houses, sur- 
 
82 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 rounded by rows of stately poplars, bending with the 
 wind, for it was storming in earnest now. About six 
 o'clock that evening we caught sight of the top of the 
 Jensen bridge ; then, as we neared the village, the sun 
 broke through the pall of cloud and mist, and a rainbow 
 appeared in the sky above, and was mirrored in the 
 swollen stream, rainbow and replica combined nearly 
 completing the wondrous arc. There was a small inn 
 beside the bridge, and arrangements were made for 
 staying there that night. We were told that Jim and 
 Mrs. Chew had passed through Jensen about four hours 
 before we arrived. They had left word that they would 
 go on through to Vernal, fifteen miles distant from the 
 river. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 AN INLAND EXCURSION 
 
 Jensen was a small village with two stores and a 
 post-office. A few scattered houses completed the village 
 proper, but prosperous-looking ranches spread out on the 
 lowland for two or three miles in all directions on the 
 west side of the river. Avenues of poplar trees, fruit 
 trees, and fields of alfalfa gave these ranches a different 
 appearance from any others we had passed. 
 
 We found some mail awaiting us at the post-office, 
 and were soon busily engaged in reading the news from 
 home. We conversed awhile with the few people at 
 the hotel, then retired, but first made arrangements for 
 saddle horses for the ride to Vernal. 
 
 Next morning we found two spirited animals, saddled 
 and waiting for us. We had some misgivings concerning 
 these horses, but were assured that they were "all right." 
 A group of grinning cowboys and ranch hands craning 
 their necks from a barn, a hundred yards distant, rather 
 inclined us to think that perhaps our informant might 
 be mistaken. Nothing is more amusing to these men of 
 
 83 
 
84 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 the range than to see a man thrown from his horse, and 
 a horse that is "all right" for one of them might be 
 anything else to persons such as we who never rode 
 anything except gentle horses, and rode those indiiferently. 
 We mounted quickly though, trying to appear uncon- 
 cerned. The horses, much to our relief, behaved quite 
 well, Emery's mount rearing back on his hind legs, 
 but not bucking. After that, all went smoothly. 
 
 Leaving the irrigated ranches on the bottom lands, 
 we ascended a low, rolling mesa, composed of gravel and 
 clay, unwatered and unfertile, from which we caught 
 occasional glimpses of the mountains and the gorge from 
 which we had emerged, their brilliant colours softened 
 and beautified by that swimming blue haze which belongs 
 to this plateau region. Then we rode down into the 
 beautiful Ashley Valley, watered by Ashley Creek, a 
 good-sized stream even after it was used to irrigate all 
 the country for miles above. The valley was several 
 miles wide. The stream emptied into the river about a 
 mile below Jensen. All parts of the valley were under 
 cultivation. It is famous for its splendid deciduous 
 fruits, apples, pears, peaches ; splendid both in ap- 
 pearance and flavour. It excelled not only in fruits, 
 however, but in all products of the field as well. "Vernal 
 honey," which is marketed far and near, has a reputation 
 for fine flavour wherever it is known. A thick growth of 
 the bee-blossom or bee-weed crowded the road sides and 
 
PAT LYNCH: IHK CAWON HERMIT. 
 
 Ciipi/right by Kulb Bros. 
 
AN INLAND EXCURSION 85 
 
 hugged the fences. The fragrance of the flower can 
 easily be noticed in the sweetness of the honey. The 
 pity of it was that bushels of fruit lay rotting on the 
 ground, for there were no transportation facilities, the 
 nearest railroad being 90 miles distant. There were 
 stock ranches too, with blooded stock in the fence-en- 
 closed fields. Some of the splendid horses paced along 
 beside us on the other side of the fence. We heard the 
 rippling song of some meadow-larks this day, the only birds 
 of this species we remember having seen on the Western 
 plateaus. 
 
 All these ranches were laid out in true Mormon style, 
 that is, squared oflF in sections, fenced, and planted with 
 shade-trees before being worked. The roads are usually 
 wide and the streets exceptionally so. Except in the 
 business streets, a large garden usually surrounds the 
 home building, each family endeavouring to raise all their 
 own vegetables, fruits, and poultry. They usually suc- 
 ceed. 
 
 The shade trees about Vernal were Lombardy poplars. 
 They attained a height that would give ample shade under 
 most conditions, and too much when we were there, for 
 the roads were very muddy, although they had dried in 
 all other sections. Nearing Vernal, we passed Nathan 
 Galloway's home, a cozy place set back some distance 
 from the road. We had hoped to meet Galloway and 
 have an opportunity of talking over his experiences with 
 
86 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 him, but found he was absent on a hunting trip, in fact 
 was up in the mountains we had come through. 
 
 On nearing the town we were greeted by a busy 
 scene. Numerous wagons and horses stood in squares 
 reserved for that purpose, or were tied to hitching posts 
 in front of the many stores. Ranchers and their families 
 were everywhere in evidence ; there were numerous 
 prospectors in their high-topped boots just returning 
 from the mountains, and oil men in similar garb, muddy 
 from head to foot. Later we learned that oil had recently 
 been discovered about forty miles distant, this fact 
 accounting for much of the activity. 
 
 The town itself was a surprise ; we found it to be very 
 much up-to-date considering its isolated position. Two 
 of the streets were paved and oiled and were supplied with 
 drinking fountains. There were two prosperous looking 
 banks, two well-stocked and up-to-date drug stores, 
 several mercantile stores, and many others, all busy. 
 Many of the buildings were of brick ; all were substantial. 
 
 Near a hotel we observed a group of men surrounding 
 some one who was evidently keeping them interested. 
 On approaching them we found it was Jimmy, giving a 
 graphic description of some of our difficulties. His 
 story was not finished, for he saw us and ran to greet us, 
 as pleased to see us as we were to see him. He had 
 little idea we would be along for two or three days and 
 naturally was much surprised. 
 
AN INLAND EXCURSION 87 
 
 On entering the hotel we were greeted by an old Grand 
 Canyon friend, a civil engineer named Duff, who with a 
 crew of men had been mapping the mountains near Whirl- 
 pool Canyon. You can imagine that it was a gratifying 
 surprise to all concerned to find we were not altogether 
 among strangers, though they were as hospitable as 
 strangers could be. The hotel was a lively place that night. 
 There was some musical talent among Duff's men, and 
 Duff himself was an artist on the piano. Many of the 
 young people of the town had dropped in that evening, 
 as some one had passed the word that there might be an 
 impromptu entertainment at the hotel. There was. 
 Duif played and the boys sang. Jimmy was himself 
 again and added his rich baritone. The town itself was 
 not without musical talent, and altogether it was a restful 
 change for us. 
 
 Perhaps we should have felt even better if we had b«en 
 dressed differently, for we wore much the same clothes as 
 those in which we did our work on the river — a woollen 
 shirt and overalls. Besides, neither Emery nor I had 
 shaved since starting, and it is quite likely that we looked 
 just a little uncouth. Appearances count for little with 
 these people in the little-settled districts, and it is a 
 common enough sight to them to see men dressed as we 
 were. They did everything they could to make us feel 
 at ease. As one person remarked, 
 
 "The wealthiest cattle man, or the owner of the richest 
 
88 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 mine in the country, usually looks worse than all others 
 after a month on the range or in the hills." 
 
 If wealth were indicated on an inverse ratio to one's 
 good appearance, we should have been very wealthy in- 
 deed. We felt as if it would take us a week to get rested, 
 and lost little time in getting to bed when the party 
 broke up. We imagine most of the residents of Vernal 
 wcr« Mormons. It is part of their creed to give " the 
 stranger within their gates" a cordial welcome. This, 
 however, was accorded to us, not only among the Mor- 
 mons, but in every section of our journey on the Green 
 and Colorado rivers. 
 
 The following day was a busy one. Arrangements 
 had been made with a local photographer to get the use 
 of his dark room, and we proceeded to develop all plates 
 and many of our films. These were then to be packed 
 and shipped out. We were informed at the local express 
 office, that it might be some time before they would go, 
 as the recent rains had been very bad in Colorado and 
 had washed out most of the bridges. 
 
 Vernal had passenger transportation to the railway — a 
 branch of the D. & R. G. running north into Colorado 
 — by automobile, the route lying across the Green and 
 also across the White River, a tributary to the Green. A 
 steel structure had been washed away on the White 
 River, making it impossible to get through to the station. 
 The high water below here must have been a flood, 
 
AN INLAND EXCURSION 89 
 
 judging from all reports. About ten bridges, large and 
 small, were reported as being washed away on numerous 
 branch streams leading into the Green River. Fortu- 
 nately Vernal had another means of communication. This 
 was a stage running southwest from Vernal, over 125 
 miles of rough road to Price, Utah — Price being a station 
 on the main line of the D. & R. G. 
 
 Jimmy concluded that he would take this road, in 
 preference to the uncertainties of the other route, and 
 noon that day found him on board the stage. He prom- 
 ised to write to us, and was anxious to hear of our 
 success, but remarked that when he once got home he 
 would "never leave San Francisco again." There was a 
 final hand clasp, a cheer from the small group of men, and 
 the stage drove away with Jimmy, a happy boy indeed. 
 
 Our work on the developing progressed well, and with 
 very satisfying results on the whole, and that evening 
 found us with all plates packed ready for shipment to 
 our home. The moving-picture film was also packed and 
 shipped to be developed at once. This was quite a load 
 off" our minds. 
 
 The following day we prepared to depart, but did not 
 leave until the afternoon. Then, with promises to let 
 them know the outcome of our venture, we parted 
 from our friends and rode back to Jensen. 
 
 We planned on leaving the following morning. The 
 river had fallen one foot since we had landed, and we were 
 
90 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 anxious to have the benefit of the high water. We 
 were told that it was six feet above the low-water stage 
 of two weeks before. 
 
 On Monday, October the 9th, after loading our boats 
 with a new stock of provisions, — in which was included a 
 few jars of honey, and a few dozen of eggs, packed in 
 sawdust, — we began what might be called the second 
 stage of our journey ; the 175-mile run to Blake or Green 
 River, Utah, a little west of south from Jensen. Ten 
 miles below Jensen was a ferry used by the auto and 
 wagons. Here also was a ranch house, with a number of 
 people in the yard. We were invited to land and did so. 
 They had been informed by telephone of our coming and 
 were looking for us ; indeed they had even prepared 
 dinner for us, hoping we would reach there in time. 
 Not knowing all this, we had eaten our cold lunch half an 
 hour before. The women were busy preserving fruits 
 and garden truck, and insisted on us taking two or three 
 jars along. This was a welcome change to the dried 
 fruit, which was one of our principal foods. These people 
 made the usual request — 
 
 "Drop us a post card if you get through." 
 
 The memory of these people that we met on this 
 journey will linger with us as long as we live. They 
 were always anxious to help us or cheer us on our way. 
 
 We passed a dredge that evening and saw a man at 
 work with a team and scoop shovel, the method being 
 
Copyright by Kolb Bros. 
 EACH BED WAS PLACED IN A RUBBER AND A CANVAS SACK. PHOTO TAKEN 
 
 IN MARBLE CANYON. 
 
AN INLAND EXCURSION 9I 
 
 to scoop up the gravel and sand, then dump it in an iron 
 car. This was then pulled by the horses to the top of 
 a derrick up a sloping track and dumped. A stream of 
 water pumped up from the river mixed with the gravel, 
 the entire mass descended a long zigzagging chute. We 
 paused a few minutes only and did not examine the com- 
 plicated process of separating the mineral from the gravel. 
 This dredge had been recently installed. We camped 
 early, half a mile below the dredge. 
 
 Emery had been feeling poorly all this day. He 
 blamed his indisposition to having eaten too many 
 good things when in Vernal — a break in training, as it 
 were. This was our excuse for a short run that day. I 
 played nurse and gave him some simple remedy from the 
 little supply that we carried ; and, after he was in his 
 sleeping bag, I filled some hot-water bags for the first 
 time on the trip, and soon had him feeling quite 
 comfortable. 
 
 A hard wind came up that night, and a little rain fell. 
 I had a busy half-hour keeping our camp from being blown 
 away. The storm was of short duration, and all was 
 soon quiet again. On the following morning Emery 
 felt so good that I had a hard time in keeping up with 
 him, and I wondered if he would ever stop. Towards 
 evening, after a long pull, we neared the reservation of 
 the Uinta Utes, and saw a few Indians camped away 
 from the river. Here, again, were the cottonwood 
 
92 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 bottoms, banked by the barren, gravelly hills. We had 
 been informed that there was a settlement called Ouray, 
 some distance down the river, and we were anxious to 
 reach it before night. But the river was sluggish, with 
 devious and twisting channels, and it was dark when we 
 finally landed at the Ouray ferry. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 CANYON OF DESOLATION 
 
 Ouray, Utah, consisted of a large store to supply 
 the wants of the Indians and ranchers, a small hotel, 
 and a few dwellings. The agency proper was located 
 some distance up the Uinta River, which stream emptied 
 into the Green, just below Ouray. 
 
 Supper was taken at the hotel, after which we visited a 
 young man in charge of the store, looking over his curios 
 and listening to tales of his life here among these Indians. 
 They were peaceable enough now, but in years gone by 
 were a danger to be reckoned with. We slept in our own 
 beds close to our boats by the river. 
 
 The following morning, when we were ready to leave, 
 a small crowd gathered, a few Indians among them. Most 
 of the Indians were big, fat, and sleepy-looking. Ap- 
 parently they enjoyed the care of the government. 
 A mile below we passed several squaws and numerous 
 children under some trees, while on a high mound stood 
 a lone buck Indian looking at us as we sped by, but with- 
 
 93 
 
94 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 out a single movement that we could see. He still stood 
 there as we passed from sight a mile below. It might 
 be interesting if one could know just what was in his mind 
 as he watched us. 
 
 A mile below the Uinta River, which entered on the 
 west, we passed another stream, the White River, entering 
 from the east, the two streams adding considerable 
 water to the Green River. We passed another idle dredge, 
 also some mineral workings in tunnels, and saw two 
 men camped on the shore beside them. We saw 
 numerous Indian carvings on the rocks, but judged they 
 were recent because horses figured in most of them. In 
 all the open country the river was fringed with large 
 Cottonwood trees, alders and willow thickets. A number 
 of islands followed, one of them very symmetrical in 
 shape, with cottonwood trees in the centre, while around 
 the edge ran a fringe of bushes looking almost like a 
 trimmed hedge. The autumn colouring added to its 
 beauty. The hedge, as we called it, was dark red, brown, 
 yellow, and green ; the cottonwoods were a light yellow. 
 After we had passed this island, a deer, confused by our 
 voices, jumped into the river fifty yards behind us, leaping 
 and swimming as he made for the shore. We had no 
 gun, but Emery had the moving-picture camera at hand, 
 and turned it on the deer. The hour was late, however, 
 and we had little hopes of its success as a picture. The 
 country back from the river stretched in rolling, barren 
 
CANYON OF DESOLATION 95 
 
 hills 200 or 300 feet high — a continuation of the Bad 
 Lands of Utah, which lay off to the west. 
 
 With the next day's travel the hills lost some of their 
 barren appearance. Some cattle were seen early in the 
 afternoon of the following day. We passed a cattle man 
 working at a ferry, who had just taken some stock across, 
 which other men had driven on ahead. He was busy, 
 so we did not interrupt him, merely calling to him from 
 the boats, drifting meanwhile with the current. Soon we 
 saw him riding down the shore and waited for him to 
 catch up. He invited us to camp with him that evening, 
 remarking that he had "just killed a beef." We thanked 
 him, but declined, as it was early and we had only travelled 
 a short distance that day. We chatted awhile, and 
 he told us to look out for rapids ahead. He was rather 
 surprised when he learned that we had started at Green 
 River, Wyoming, and had already come through a few 
 rapids. 
 
 "Where are you going to stop ? " he then asked. 
 
 On being told that our destination was Needles, 
 California, he threw up his hands with an expressive 
 gesture, then added soberly, "Well, boys, I sure wish you 
 luck," and rode back to his camp. 
 
 We had difficulty in making a suitable landing that 
 evening, as the high water had deposited great quantities 
 of black mud over everything, making it very disagreeable 
 when we left the boats. We finally found a place with 
 
96 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 less mud to wade through than on most of the banks 
 seen, and tied up to the roots of a tree. 
 
 While lying in our beds that night looking at the 
 starlit sky — such a sky as is found only on these high 
 plateaus — we discovered a comet directly above us. 
 An astronomer would have enjoyed our opportunities 
 for observing the heavens. No doubt this comet had 
 been heralded far and wide, but we doubt if any one saw 
 it to better advantage than did we. 
 
 Later, some coyotes, possibly in chase of a rabbit, gave 
 vent to their yodeling cry, and awakened us from a sound 
 sleep. They were in a little lateral canyon, which 
 magnified and gave a weird, organ-like echo to their 
 calls long after the coyotes themselves had passed from 
 hearing. 
 
 The nights were getting warmer as we travelled south, 
 but not so warm that we were bothered with insects. The 
 same reason accounted for the absence of snakes or scor- 
 pions, for no doubt there were plenty of both in warm 
 weather in this dry country. When there was no wind, 
 the silence of the nights was impressive, with no sound 
 save the lapping of the water against the banks. Some- 
 times a bird in the trees above would start up with a 
 twitter, then quiet down again. On occasions the air 
 chambers in our boats would contract on cooling off, mak- 
 ing a noise like the boom of a distant gun, every little 
 sound being magnified by the utter stillness of the night. 
 
CANYON OF DESOLATION 97 
 
 There were other times when it was not so quiet. 
 Hundreds of birds, geese, ducks and mud-hens had been 
 seen the last few days. Also there were occasional 
 cranes and herons, over a thousand miles from their 
 breeding place at the mouth of the Colorado. As dusk 
 settled, we would see these birds abandon their feeding 
 in the mud, and line up on the shore, or on an island, and go 
 to sleep. Occasionally one of these birds would start 
 up out of a sound sleep with an unearthly squawk. Pos- 
 sibly an otter had interrupted its dreams, or a fox had 
 pounced on one as it slept. It may be that it was only a 
 bad dream of these enemies that caused their fright, 
 but whatever it was, that first call would start up the 
 entire flock and they would circle in confusion like a 
 stampeded herd of cattle, their discordant cries putting 
 an end to the stillness of the night. Finally they would 
 settle down in a new spot, and all would be quiet once 
 more. 
 
 We saw a few birds that were strangers to us, — water 
 birds which we imagined belonged to the salt water 
 rather than the Inland streams, making a little excursion, 
 perhaps, away from their accustomed haunts. One 
 type we saw on two occasions, much like a gull, but 
 smaller, pure white as far as we could tell, soaring in 
 graceful flight above the river. 
 
 Camp No. 26 was close to the beginning of a new 
 canyon. The country had been changing in appearance 
 
98 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 from rather flat plains to small bare hills, gradually 
 increasing in height with smooth, rounded sides, and 
 going up to a point, usually of a dirty clay colour, with 
 little vegetation of any kind on them. The river for 
 miles past had swept in long graceful curves, the hills 
 being close to the river on the outside of the curve, leaving 
 a big flat on the inside. This flat gradually sloped back 
 to hills of an equal height to those opposite. Then the 
 curve would reverse, and the same conditions would be 
 met with again, but on opposite sides from the previous 
 bend. After passing a creek the evening before, the 
 hills became higher, and from our camp we could see the 
 first place where they came close on both sides to the river. 
 We felt now that our beautiful tree-covered canyons 
 were behind us and from now on we would be hemmed 
 in by the great eroded canyons of the Southwest. We 
 were sorry to leave those others behind, and could easily 
 understand why Major Powell had named this Desola- 
 tion Canyon. 
 
 As the canyon deepened the cliffs were cut into fan- 
 tastic shapes, as is usual in rocks unprotected by vege- 
 tation. There was a hard rock near the top in places, 
 which overhung a softer formation. This would erode, 
 giving a cornice-like effect to the cliffs. Others were 
 surmounted by square towers and these were capped by 
 a border of little squares, making the whole look much 
 like a castle on the Rhine. For half a day we found no 
 
CANYON OF DESOLATION 99 
 
 rapids, but pulled away on a good current. The walls 
 gradually grew higher and were more rugged ; a few trees 
 cropped out on their sides. At noon our boats were 
 lashed together and lunch was eaten as we drifted. We 
 covered about three miles in this way, taking in the 
 scenery as we passed. We saw a great stone arch, or 
 natural bridge, high on a stupendous cliflF to our right, 
 and wondered if anyone had ever climbed up to it. Our 
 lunch was no more than finished when the first rapid was 
 heard ahead of us. Quickly unlashing our boats, we 
 prepared for strenuous work. Friday the 13th proved 
 to be a lucky day ; thirteen large rapids and thirteen 
 small ones were placed behind us before we camped at 
 Rock Creek — a splashing, laughing mountain stream, 
 no doubt containing trout. 
 
 The following morning we found there was a little 
 ranch house below us, but, though we called from our 
 boats, no one came out. We wondered how any one could 
 reach this out-of-the-way place, as a road would be almost 
 an impossibility. Later we found a well-constructed 
 trail on the right-hand side all the way through the 
 canyon. We saw a great many cattle travelling this 
 trail. Some were drinking at the river when we swept 
 into view. Our boats filled them with alarm, and they 
 scrambled for the hillsides, looking after us with frightened 
 expressions as we left them to the rear. 
 
 We put in a full day at running rapids, one after another. 
 
lOO THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICX) 
 
 until fifteen large ones were passed, no count being kept 
 of the smaller ones. Some of these rapids resembled 
 dams from six to twelve feet high, with the water falling 
 abruptly over a steep slope. Others were long and 
 rough, with swift water in places. Above one of these 
 we had landed, then found we could get a much better 
 view from the opposite shore. Emery crossed and 
 landed, I followed. We had been having heavy winds 
 all day. When crossing here I was caught by a sudden 
 gust of wind and carried to the head of the rapid. I heard 
 Emery call, "Look out for the big rock!" then over I 
 went. The wind and water together had turned my boat 
 sideways, and try as I would I could not get it turned 
 around. I saw the rock Emery referred to straight 
 ahead of me. It was about fifteen feet square and 
 about fourteen feet from the shore, with a powerful current 
 shooting between the rock and the shore. It seemed 
 as if I must strike the rock broadside, and I ceased my 
 struggle, but held out an oar with both hands, hoping to 
 break the blow. But it never came. The water struck 
 this rock with great force, then rebounded, and actually 
 kept me from even touching the rock with the oar, but 
 it caught the boat and shot it through the narrow channel, 
 bow first, as neatly as it could possibly be done, then 
 turned the boat around again as I scrambled to regain 
 my hold on both oars. No other rocks threatened, 
 however, and besides filling the cockpit with water, no 
 damage was done. 
 
- X 
 
CANYON OF DESOLATION 1 01 
 
 Emery had no desire to follow my passage and crossed 
 back to the other side. Shooting over the upper end 
 of the rapid, his boat ran up on a rounded rock, the 
 stern sticking high in the air ; it paused a moment, the 
 current slowly turning it around as if on a pivot, and 
 the boat slid off; then down he came lurching and 
 plunging, but with no more difficulty. Many times in 
 such places as these we saw the advantage of our flat- 
 bottomed boats over one with a keel, for these would 
 surely be upset when running up on such a rock. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 HOSPITABLE RANCHMEN 
 
 The appearance of Desolation Canyon had changed 
 entirely in the lower end. Instead of a straight canyon, 
 without a break, we were surrounded by mountain 
 peaks nearly 2500 feet high, with many side canyons 
 between them and with little level parks at the end of 
 the canyons beside the river. The tops were pine- 
 covered ; cedars clung to the rocky slopes. Some of 
 these peaks were not unlike the formations of the Grand 
 Canyon, as seen from the inner plateau, and the red colour- 
 ing was once more found in the rocks. 
 
 These peaks were gradually dropping down in height ; 
 and at one open section, with alfalfa and hay fields 
 on gently sloping hillsides, we found a small ranch, 
 the buildings being set back from the river. We con- 
 cluded to call and found three men, the rancher and 
 two young cowboys, at work in a blacksmith shop. 
 Emery had forgotten to remove his life-preserver, and the 
 men looked at him with some astonishment, as he was still 
 soaking wet from the splashing waves of the last rapid. 
 
HOSPITABLE RANCHMEN 103 
 
 When I joined him he was explaining that no one had 
 been drowned, and that we were merely making an ex- 
 cursion down the river. Mr. McPherson, the rancher, 
 we learned, owned all the cattle seen up the river. The 
 little cabin at our last camp was a sort of headquarters 
 for his cowboys. The cattle were just being driven from 
 the mountains before the snows came, and were to be 
 wintered here in the canyons. Some of these cattle were 
 much above the usual grade of range cattle, being 
 thoroughbreds, although most of them ran loose on the 
 range. This ranch had recently lost a valuable bull 
 which had been killed by a bear up in the mountains — 
 not unlike similar conflicts in more civilized sections of 
 the country. McPherson camped on this bear's trail 
 for several days and nights before he finally hung his 
 pelt on a tree. He was a large cinnamon-coloured grizzly. 
 Four other bears had been killed this same year, in these 
 mountains. 
 
 McPherson's home had burned down a short time 
 before our visit, and his family had removed to Green 
 River, Utah. A number of tents were erected, neatly 
 boarded up, and we were informed that one of these 
 was reserved for company, so we need not think of going 
 any farther that day. These men, while absolutely 
 fearless in the saddle, over these rough mountain trails, 
 had "no use for the river" they told us ; in fact, we found 
 this was the usual attitude of the cattle men wherever we 
 
104 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 met them. McPherson's respect for the river was not 
 without reason, as his father, with two others, had been 
 drowned while making a crossing in a light boat near 
 this point, some years before. Some accident occurred, 
 possibly the breaking of a rowlock, and they were car- 
 ried into a rapid. McPherson's men found it necessary 
 to cross their cattle back and forth, but always took the 
 wise precaution to have on some life-preservers. These 
 cork preservers hung in the blacksmith shop, where 
 they could easily be reached at a moment's notice. 
 
 Desolation Canyon, with a slight breaking down 
 of the walls for a short distance only, gave place to 
 Gray Canyon below the McPherson Ranch. A good- 
 sized mountain stream, part of which irrigated the 
 ranch above, found its way through this division. We 
 had been told that more rapids lay ahead of us in Gray 
 Canyon, but they were not so numerous in our next 
 day's travel. What we did find were usually large, but 
 we ran them all without difficulty. About noon we met 
 five men in a boat, rowing up the stream in a long, still 
 stretch. They told us they were working on a dam, a 
 mile or two below. They followed us down to see us make 
 the passage through the rapid which lay above their 
 camp. The rapid w^as long and rocky, having a seventeen- 
 foot fall in a half mile. We picked our channel by stand- 
 ing up in the boat before entering the rapid and were soon 
 at the bottom with no worse mishap than bumping a 
 
HOSPITABLE RANCHMEN I05 
 
 rock or two rather lightly. We had bailed out and 
 were tying our boats, when the men came panting down 
 the hill up which they had climbed to see us make this 
 plunge. A number of men were at work here, but this 
 being Sunday, most of them had gone to Green River, 
 Utah, twenty-one miles distant. 
 
 Among the little crowd who came down to see us re- 
 sume our rowing was a lady and a little girl who lived in 
 a rock building, near the other buildings erected for 
 the working-men. Emery showed the child a picture of 
 his four-year-old daughter, Edith, with her mother — a 
 picture he always carried in a note-book. Then he had 
 her get in the boat with him, and we made a photograph 
 of them. They were very good friends before we left. 
 
 In a few hours we emerged from the low-walled canyon 
 into a level country. A large butte, perhaps 700 feet 
 high, stood out by itself, a mile from the main cliffs. 
 This was Gunnison Butte, an old landmark near the 
 Gunnison trail. We were anxious to reach Blake or 
 Green River, Utah, not many miles below, that evening ; 
 but we failed to make it. There were several rapids, 
 some of them quite large, and we had run them all when 
 we came to a low dam that obstructed our passage. 
 While looking it over, seeing how best to make a portage, 
 a young man whom we had just seen remarked : 
 
 "Well, boys, you had better tie up and I will help you 
 in the morning." 
 
I06 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 It was 5.30 then, and we were still six miles from Green 
 River, so we took his advice and camped. On seeing 
 our sleeping bags, tightly strapped and making rather a 
 small roll, he remarked : 
 
 "Well, you fellows are not Mormons; I can tell by 
 the size of your beds !" 
 
 Our new friend gave the name of Wolverton. There 
 was another man named Wilson who owned a ranch 
 just below the dam. Both of these men were much in- 
 terested in our experiences. Wolverton had consider- 
 able knowledge of the river and of boats ; very little per- 
 suasion would have been necessary to have had him for 
 a companion on the balance of our journey. But we 
 had made up our minds to make it alone, now, as it looked 
 feasible. Both Wilson and Wolverton knew the country 
 below Green River, Utah, having made surveys through 
 much of the surrounding territory. Wolverton said we 
 must surely see his father, who lived down the river 
 and who was an enthusiast on motor boats. A few 
 minutes' work the next morning sufficed to get our 
 boats over the dam. The dam was constructed of 
 loose rock and piles, chinked with brush and covered 
 with sloping planks, — just a small dam to raise the 
 water for irrigation purposes. Much of the water ran 
 through the canal ; in places the planks were dry, in 
 others some water ran over. The boats, being unloaded, 
 were pulled up on these planks, then slid into the water 
 
HOSPITABLE RANCHMEN 107 
 
 below. Wilson had a large water wheel for irrigation pur- 
 poses, the first of several such wheels which we were to see 
 this day. These wheels, twenty feet or more in height, 
 — with slender metal buckets each holding several gallons 
 of water, fastened at intervals on either side, — were 
 placed in a swift current, anchored on the shore to stout 
 piles, or erected over mill-races cut in the banks. There they 
 revolved, the buckets filling and emptying automatically, 
 the water running off in troughs above the level of the 
 river back to the fertile soil. Some of these wheels had 
 ingenious floating arrangements whereby they accom- 
 modated themselves to the different stages of a rising 
 or falling river. We took a few pictures of Wilson's 
 place before leaving. He informed us that he had tele- 
 phoned to certain people in Green River who would 
 help us in various ways. Two hours' rowing, past many 
 pretty little ranches, brought us to the railroad bridge, 
 a grateful sight to us. A pumping plant stood beside 
 the bridge under charge of Captain Yokey, one of Wilson's 
 friends. Yokey owned a large motor boat, which was 
 tied up to the shore. Our boats were left in his charge 
 while we went up to the town, a mile distant. Another 
 of Wilson's friends met us, and secured a dark room for 
 us, so that we could do a little developing and we pre- 
 pared for work on the following day. 
 
 That night a newspaper reporter hunted us out, 
 anxious for a story. We gave him what we had, making 
 
Io8 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 light of our previous difficulties, which were exciting 
 enough at times ; but owing to the comparatively small 
 size of the stream, we seldom thought our lives were in 
 any great danger. The papers made the most of these 
 things, and the stories that came out had little sem- 
 blance to our original statements. We have since 
 learned that no matter how much one minimizes such 
 things, they are seldom published as reported. 
 
 We put in a busy day unpacking new films and plates, 
 developing all films from the smaller cameras and send- 
 ing these home. A new stock of provisions had to be 
 purchased, enough for one month at least, for there was 
 no chance of securing supplies until we reached our can- 
 yon home, about 425 miles below. 
 
 We had a valuable addition to our cargo in two metal 
 boxes that had been shipped here, as it was not possible 
 to get them before leaving Wyoming. These cases or 
 trunks were sent from England, and were water-tight, 
 if not waterproof, there being a slight difi'erence. Well 
 constructed, with rubber gaskets and heavy clamps, every 
 possible precaution had been taken, it seemed, to exclude 
 the water and still render them easy of access. They 
 were about thirty inches long, fifteen wide, and twelve 
 high, just the thing for our photographic material. Up 
 to this time everything had to be kept under the decks 
 when in bad water. These boxes were placed in the 
 open section in front of us, and were thoroughly fastened 
 
HOSPITABLE RANCHMEN 1 09 
 
 to the ribs to prevent loss, ready to be opened or closed 
 in a moment, quite a convenience when pictures had to 
 be taken hurriedly. 
 
 The following day we went over the boats, caulking 
 a few leaks. The bottoms of the boats were considerably 
 the worse for wear, owing to our difficulties in the first 
 canyons. We got some thin oak strips and nailed them 
 on the bottom to help protect them, when portaging. 
 Sliding the boats on the scouring sand and rough-sur- 
 faced rock was hard on the half-inch boards on the bottom 
 of the boats. This work was all completed that day, and 
 everything was ready for the next plunge. 
 
 In passing the station, we noticed the elevation above 
 sea-level was placed at 4085 feet, and remembered that 
 Green River, Wyoming, was 6080 feet, showing that our 
 descent in the past 425 miles had been close to 2000 feet. 
 We had not found it necessary to line or portage any 
 rapids since leaving Lodore Canyon ; we were hopeful 
 that our good luck would continue. 
 
 Nothing was to be feared from what remained of the 
 Green River, 120 miles or more, for motor boats made the 
 journey to its junction with the Grand, and we were 
 told even ascended the Grand for some distance. Below 
 this junction was the Colorado River, a different stream 
 from the one we were still to navigate. 
 
 Before leaving, we ate a final hearty breakfast at the 
 boarding-house where we had been taking our meals. 
 
no THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 A number of young men, clerks in some of the business 
 houses here, were among the boarders. The landlady, 
 a whole-souled German woman and an excellent cook, 
 was greatly worried over their small appetites, thinking 
 it was a reflection on her table. She remarked that she 
 hoped we had good appetites, and I am sure she had 
 no complaint to make so far as we were concerned. We 
 had never stinted ourselves when on the river, but the 
 change and the rest seemed to give us an abnormal 
 appetite that could not be satisfied, and we would simply 
 quit eating because we were ashamed to eat more. Less 
 than half an hour after one of these big meals, I was sur- 
 prised to see my brother in a restaurant with a sheepish 
 grin on his face, and with a good-sized lunch before him. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 WONDERS OF EROSION 
 
 Thursday, October the igth. We embarked again with 
 two of our new-found friends on board as passengers for 
 a short ride, their intention being to hunt as they walked 
 back. They left us at a ranch beside the San Rafael 
 River, a small stream entering from the west. They 
 left some mail with us to be delivered to Mr. Wolverton, 
 whose son we had met above. About 20 miles below 
 Green River we reached his home. Judging by a number 
 of boats — both motor and row boats — tied to his 
 landing, Mr. Wolverton was an enthusiastic river-man. 
 After glancing over his mail, he asked how we had come 
 and was interested when he learned that we were making 
 a boating trip. He was decidedly interested when he 
 saw the boats and learned that we were going to our 
 home in the Grand Canyon. His first impression was 
 that we were merely making a little pleasure trip on the 
 quiet water. 
 
 Going carefully over the boats, he remarked that they 
 met with his approval with one exception. They 
 
112 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 seemed to be a little bit short for the heavy rapids of the 
 Colorado, he thought. He agreed that our experience 
 in the upper rapids had been good training, but said there 
 was no comparison in the rapids. We would have a 
 river ten times as great as in Lodore to contend with ; 
 and in numerous places, for short distances, the descent 
 was as abrupt as anything we had seen on the Green. 
 Wolverton was personally acquainted with a number of 
 the men who had made the river trip, and, with the one 
 exception of Major Powell's expeditions, had met all 
 the parties who had successfully navigated its waters. 
 This not only included Galloway's and Stone's respective 
 expeditions, which had made the entire trip, but included 
 two other expeditions which began at Green River, Utah, 
 and had gone through the canyons of the Colorado.^ 
 These were the Brown-Stanton expedition, which made 
 a railroad survey through the canyons of the Colorado ; 
 and another commonly known as the Russell-Monnette 
 expedition, two of the party making the complete trip, 
 arriving at Needles after a voyage filled with adventure 
 and many narrow escapes. Mr. Wolverton remarked 
 that every one knew of those who had navigated the entire 
 series of canyons, but that few people knew of those who 
 
 1 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. 
 
WONDERS OF EROSION II3 
 
 had been unsuccessful. He knew of seven parties that 
 had failed to get through Cataract Canyon's forty-one 
 miles of rapids, with their boats, most of them never 
 being heard of again. 
 
 These unsuccessful parties were often miners or pros- 
 pectors who wished to get into the comparatively flat 
 country which began about fifty miles below the Junction 
 of the Green and the Grand rivers. Here lay Glen 
 Canyon, with 150 miles of quiet water. Nothing need 
 be feared in this, or in the 120 miles of good boating from 
 Green River, Utah, to the junction. Between these two 
 points, however, lay Cataract Canyon, beginning at 
 the junction of the two rivers. Judging by its unsavory 
 record. Cataract Canyon was something to be feared. 
 
 Among these parties who had made short trips on the 
 river was one composed of two men. Phil Foote was 
 a gambler, stage robber, and bad man in general. He 
 had broken out of jail in Salt Lake City and, accompanied 
 by another of similar character, stole a boat at Green 
 River, Utah, and proceeded down the river. Soon after 
 entering Cataract Canyon, they lost their boat and provi- 
 sions. Finding a tent which had been washed down the 
 river, they tore it into strips and constructed a raft out 
 of driftwood, tying the logs together with the strips of 
 canvas. Days of hardship followed, and starvation stared 
 them in the face; until finally Foote's partner gave up, 
 and said he would drown himself. With an oath Foote 
 
114 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 drew his revolver, saying he had enough of such cowardice 
 and would save him the trouble. His companion then 
 begged for his life, saying he would stick to the end, and 
 they finally got through to the Hite ranch, which lay a 
 short distance below. They were taken care of here, 
 and terminated their voyage a short distance beyond, 
 going out over land. Foote was afterwards shot and 
 killed while holding up a stage in Nevada. 
 
 The Hite ranch also proved to be a place of refuge for 
 others, the sole survivors of two other parties who were 
 wrecked, one person escaping on each occasion. Hite's 
 ranch, and Lee's Ferry, 140 miles below Hite, had mail 
 service. We had left instructions at the post-office to 
 forward our mail to one or the other of these points. 
 These were also the only places on our 425-mile run to 
 Bright Angel Trail where we could expect to see any 
 people, so we were informed. We were about to descend 
 into what is, possibly, the least inhabited portion of the 
 United States of America. 
 
 A party of civil engineers working here, joined us 
 that evening at Wolverton's home. A young man in 
 the party asked us if we would consent to carry a letter 
 through with us and mail it at our destination. He 
 thought it would be an interesting souvenir for the person 
 to whom it was addressed. We agreed to do our best, 
 but would not guarantee delivery. The next morning 
 two letters were given us to mail, and were accepted 
 

 1 <l '^^-^^ 
 
WONDERS OF EROSION II5 
 
 with this one reservation. Before leaving Mr. Wolverton 
 showed us his motor boat with much pardonable pride. 
 On this boat he sometimes took small parties down to 
 the beginning of the Colorado River, and up the Grand, 
 a round trip of three hundred miles or more. The boat 
 had never been taken down the Colorado for the simple 
 reason that the rapids began almost immediately below 
 the junction. 
 
 Wolverton, while he had never been through the 
 rapids in a boat, had followed the river on foot for several 
 miles and was thoroughly familiar with their nature. 
 On parting he remarked, 
 
 "Well, boys, you are going to tackle a mighty hard 
 proposition, but I'm sure you can make it if you are only 
 careful. But look out and go easy." 
 
 Wolverton was no novice, speaking from much experi- 
 ence in bad water, and we were greatly impressed by 
 what he had to say. 
 
 Five uneventful days were spent in Labyrinth and 
 Stillwater canyons, through which the Green peace- 
 fully completed its rather violent descent. In the upper 
 end we usually found rough water in the canyons and 
 quiet water in the open sections. Here at least were two 
 canyons, varying from 300 feet at their beginning to 1300 
 feet in depth, both without a rapid. The first of these was 
 Labyrinth Canyon, so named from its elaborately wind- 
 ing course as well as its wonderful intricate system of 
 
Il6 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 dry, lateral canyons, and its reproduction in rock of archi- 
 tectural forms, castles, arches, and grottos ; even animals 
 and people were represented in every varying form. 
 
 Our Sunday camp was beside what might be called 
 a serpentine curve or series of loops in the river. This 
 was at the centre of what is known as the Double Bow 
 Knot, three rounded loops, very symmetrical in form, with 
 an almost circular formation of flat-topped rock, a mile or 
 more in diameter in the centre of each loop. A narrow 
 neck of rock connects these formations to the main mesa, all 
 being on the same level, about 700 feet above the river. 
 The upper half of the rock walls was sheer ; below was a 
 steep boulder-covered slope. The centre formation is 
 the largest and most perfect, being nearly two miles in 
 diameter and almost round ; so much so, that a very 
 few minutes are necessary to climb over the narrow neck 
 which connects this formation to the mesa. It took 
 45 minutes of hard rowing on a good current to take us 
 around this one loop. The neck is being rapidly eroded, 
 two hundred feet having disappeared from the top, and 
 at some distant day will doubtless disappear entirely, 
 making a short cut for the river, and will leave a rounded 
 island of rock standing seven hundred feet above the 
 river. A bird's-eye view of the three loops would com- 
 pare well in shape to the little mechanical contrivance 
 known as the "eye" in the combination of "hook and 
 eye." All women and many men will get a clear idea 
 
WONDERS OF EROSION II7 
 
 of the shape of the Double Bow Knot from this com- 
 parison. 
 
 We recorded an interesting experiment with the ther- 
 mometer at this camp, showing a great variety of tem- 
 peratures, unbelievable almost to one who knows noth- 
 ing of conditions in these semi-arid plateaus. A little 
 ice had formed the night before. Under a clear sky the 
 next day at noon, our thermometer recorded 54 degrees in 
 the shade, but ran up to 102 degrees in the sun. At the 
 same time the water in the river was 52 degrees Far. 
 The effect of being deluged in ice-cold waves, then running 
 into deep sunless canyons with a cold wind sweeping 
 down from the snow on top, can be easier imagined than 
 described. This is what we could expect to meet later. 
 
 The colouring of the rocks varied greatly in many lo- 
 calities, a light red predominating. In some places the 
 red rock was capped by a gray, flint-like limestone; in 
 others this had disappeared, but underneath the red 
 were regular strata of various-coloured rocks, pink, 
 brown, light yellow, even blue and green being found in 
 two or three sections. 
 
 The forms of erosion were as varied as the rock itself, 
 each different-coloured rock stratum presenting a different 
 surface. In one place the surface was broken into rounded 
 forms like the backs of a herd of elephants. In others 
 we saw reproductions of images, carved by the drifting 
 sands — a Diana, with uplifted arm, as large as the 
 
Il8 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 Goddess of Liberty ; a Billiken on a throne with a hun- 
 dred worshippers bowed around. Covered with nature- 
 made ruins and magnificent rock structures, as this 
 section is, it is not entirely without utility. It is a grazing 
 country. Great numbers of contented cattle, white- 
 faced, with red and white, or black and white patches of 
 colour on their well-filled hides, were found in the open 
 spaces between the sheer-walled cliffs. Dusty, well- 
 beaten trails led down through these wide canyons, 
 trails which undoubtedly gained the top of the level, 
 rocky plateau a few miles back from the river. As is 
 usual in a cattle country at the end of the summer season, 
 the bunch-grass, close to the water supply — which in 
 this case happened to the river — was nibbled close 
 to the roots. The cattle only came here to drink, then 
 travelled many miles, no doubt, to the better grazing on 
 the upper plateaus. The sage, always gray, was grayer 
 still, with dust raised by many passing herds. There 
 was a band of range horses too, those splendid wild-eyed 
 animals with kingly bearing, and wind-blown tails and 
 manes, lean like a race-horse, strong-muscled and tough- 
 sinewed, pawing and neighing, half defiant and half 
 afraid of the sight of men, the only thing alive to which 
 they pay tribute. 
 
 It is a never ending source of wonder, to those un- 
 acquainted with the semi-arid country, how these ani- 
 mals can exist in a land which, to them, seems utterly 
 
WONDERS OF EROSION II9 
 
 destitute and barren. To many such, a meadow car- 
 peted with blue grass or timothy is the only pasture on 
 which grazing horses or grazing cattle can exist; the 
 dried-out looking tufts of bunch-grass, scattered here 
 and there or sheltered at the roots of the sage, mean 
 nothing; the grama-grass hidden in the grease-wood 
 is unnoticed or mistaken for a weed. 
 
 But if the land was bare of verdure, the rock saved 
 it from being monotonous. Varied in colour, the red rock 
 predominated — blood-red at mid-day, orange-tinted 
 at sunset, with gauze-like purple shadows, and with the 
 delicate blue outlines always found in the Western dis- 
 tances ; such a land could never be called uninteresting. 
 
 The banks of the stream, here in the open, were always 
 green. From an elevation they appeared like two emerald 
 bands through a land of red, bordering a stream the tint 
 of the aged pottery found along its shores. We were 
 continually finding new trees and strange shrubs. Beside 
 the cottonwoods and the willows there was an occasional 
 wild-cherry tree; in the shrubs were the service-berry, 
 and the squaw-berry, with sticky, acid-tasting fruit. 
 The cacti were small, and excepting the prickly pear 
 were confined nearly altogether to a small "pin-cush- 
 ion" cactus, growing a little larger as we travelled 
 south. And always in the mornings when out of the 
 deep canyons the moist, pungent odour of the sage greeted 
 our nostrils. It is inseparable from the West. There is 
 
I20 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 no Stuffy germ-laden air there, out In the sage; one is 
 glad to live, simply to breathe it in and exhale and breathe 
 again. 
 
 In Stillwater Canyon the walls ran up to 1300 feet 
 in height, a narrow canyon, with precipitous sides. 
 Occasionally we could see great columns of rock standing 
 on top of the mesa. Late one evening we saw some small 
 cliff dwellings several hundred feet above the river, and 
 a few crude ladders leaning against the cliff below the 
 dwellings. A suitable camp could not be made here, or 
 we would have stopped to examine them. The shores 
 were slippery with mud and quicksands, and there was 
 no fire- wood in sight. From here to the end of the canyons 
 we would have to depend almost entirely on the drift- 
 piles for fire-wood. 
 
 A landing was finally made where a section of a cliff 
 had toppled from above, affording a solid footing leading 
 up to the higher bank. We judged from our maps that 
 we were within a very few miles of the Colorado River. 
 Here some footprints and signs of an old boat landing, 
 apparently about a week old, were seen in the sand. 
 This surprised us somewhat, as we had heard of no one 
 coming down ahead of us. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 COULD WE SUCCEED ? 
 
 An hour or two at the oars the next morning sufficed 
 to bring us to the junction of the Green and the Grand 
 rivers. We tied up our boats, and prepared to climb 
 out on top, as we had a desire to see the view from above. 
 A mile back on the Green we had noticed a sort of canyon 
 or slope breaking down on the west side, affording a 
 chance to reach the top. Loading ourselves with a 
 light lunch, a full canteen, and our smaller cameras, we 
 returned to this point and proceeded to climb out. Pow- 
 ell's second expedition had climbed out at this same 
 place ; Wolverton had also mentioned the fact that he 
 had been out ; so we were quite sure of a successful at- 
 tempt before we made the climb. 
 
 The walk close to the river, over rocks and along 
 narrow ledges, was hard work ; the climb out was even 
 more so. The contour maps which we carried credited 
 these walls with 1300 feet height. If we had any doubt 
 concerning the accuracy of this, it disappeared before we 
 finally reached the top. What we saw, however, was 
 
122 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 worth all the discomfort we had undergone. Close to 
 the top, three branches of dry, rock-bottomed gullies, 
 carved from a gritty, homogeneous sandstone, spread 
 out from the slope we had been climbing. These were 
 less precipitous. Taking the extreme left-hand gully, 
 we found the climb to the top much easier. At the very 
 end we found an irregular hole a few feet in diameter, 
 not a cave, but an opening left between some immense 
 rocks, touching at the top, seemingly rolled together. 
 
 Gazing down through this opening, we were amazed 
 to find that we were directly above the Colorado itself. 
 It was so confusing at first that we had to climb to the 
 very top to see which river it was, I contending that it 
 was the Green, until satisfied that I was mistaken. The 
 view from the top was overwhelming, and words can 
 hardly describe what we saw, or how we were affected 
 by it. 
 
 We found ourselves on top of an irregular plateau 
 of solid rock, with no earth or vegetation save a few little 
 bushes and some very small cedars in cracks in the rocks. 
 Branching canyons, three or four hundred feet in depth, 
 and great fissures ran down in this rock at intervals. Some 
 were dark and crooked, and the bottom could not be seen. 
 Between these cracks, the rock rounded like elephants' 
 backs sloping steeply on either side. Some could be crossed, 
 some could not. Others resembled a "maze," the puzzle 
 being how to get from one point to another a few 
 

 --*^ '< 
 
COULD WE SUCCEED? 1 23 
 
 feet away. The rock was a sandstone and presented 
 a rough surface affording a good hold, so there was little 
 danger of slipping. We usually sat down and "inched'* 
 our way to the edge of the cracks, jumping across to 
 little ledges when possible, always helping each other. 
 
 The rock at the very edge of the main canyon over- 
 hung, in places 75 to 100 feet, and the great mass of 
 gigantic boulders — sections of shattered cliffs — on the 
 steep slope near the river gave evidence of a continual 
 breaking away of these immense rocks. 
 
 To the north, across the canyon up which we had 
 climbed, were a great number of smooth formations, 
 from one hundred to four hundred feet high, rounded on 
 top in domes, reminding one of Bagdad and tales from the 
 Arabian Nights. "The Land of Standing Rocks," the 
 Utes call it. The rock on which we stood was light 
 gray or nearly white ; the river walls at the base for a 
 thousand feet above the river were dark red or chocolate- 
 brown ; while the tops of the formations above this level 
 were a beautiful light red tint. 
 
 But there were other wonders. On the south side 
 of the Colorado's gorge, miles away, were great spires, 
 pointing heavenward, singly and in groups, looking like 
 a city of churches. Beyond the spires were the Blue 
 Mountains, to the east the hazy LaSalle range, and 
 nearest of all on the west just north of the Colorado lay 
 the snow-covered peaks of the Henry Mountains. Di- 
 
124 
 
 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 rectly below us was the Colorado River, muddy, swirling, 
 and forbidding. A mile away boomed a rapid, beyond 
 that was another, then the river was lost to view. 
 
 Standing on the brink of all this desolation, it is 
 small wonder if we recalled the accounts of the disasters 
 which had overtaken so many others in the canyon 
 below us. Many who had escaped the water had climbed 
 out on to this death trap, as it had proven to be for them, 
 some to perish of thirst and starvation, a few to stagger 
 into the ranch below the canyon, a week or more after 
 they had escaped from the water. Small wonder that 
 some of these had lost their reason. We could only 
 conjecture at the fate of the party whose wrecked boat 
 had been found by the Stone expedition, a few miles below 
 this place, with their tracks still fresh in the sand. No 
 trace of them was ever found. 
 
 For the first time it began to dawn on us that we 
 might have tackled a job beyond our power to complete. 
 Most of the parties which had safely completed the trip 
 were composed of several men, adding much to the safety 
 of the expedition, as a whole. Others had boats much 
 lighter than ours, a great help in many respects. Speak- 
 ing for myself, I was just a little faint-hearted, and not 
 a little overawed as we prepared to return to the boats. 
 
 While returning, we saw evidences of ancient Indians 
 — some broken arrow-heads, and pottery also, and a 
 small cliff ruin under a shelving rock. 
 
Copyright by Kolb Bros. 
 THIRTEEN HUNDRED FEET ABOVE THE GREEN RIVER. NOTE FIGURE. 
 
COULD WE SUCCEED? I 25 
 
 What could an Indian find here to interest him ! 
 We had found neither bird, nor rabbit ; not even a lizard 
 in the Land of Standing Rocks. Perhaps they were sun 
 worshippers, and wanted an unobstructed view of the 
 eastern sky. That at least could be had, in unrivalled 
 grandeur, here above the Rio Colorado. 
 
 The shadows were beginning to lengthen when we 
 finally reached our boats at the junction. Camp was 
 made under a large weeping willow tree, the only tree 
 of its kind we remembered having seen on the journey. 
 
 While Emery prepared a hasty meal I made a few 
 arrangements for embarking on the Colorado River the 
 next morning. We were prepared to bid farewell to 
 the Green River — the stream that had served us so 
 well. In spite of our trials, even in the upper canyons, 
 we had found much enjoyment in our passage through its 
 strange and beautiful surroundings. 
 
 From a scenic point of view the canyons of the Green 
 River, with their wonderful rock formations and stupend- 
 ous gorges, are second only to those of the Colorado itself. 
 It is strange they are so little known, when one considers 
 the comparative ease with which these canyons on the 
 lower end can be reached. Some day perhaps, surfeited 
 globe-trotters, after having tired of commonplace scenery 
 and foreign lands, will learn what a wonderful region 
 this is, here on the lower end of the Green River. 
 
 Then no doubt, Wolverton, or others with similar 
 
126 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 outfits, will find a steady stream of sight-seers anxious 
 to take the motor boat ride down to this point, and up 
 to Moab, Utah, a little Mormon town on the Grand River. 
 A short ride by automobile from Moab to the D. & R. G. 
 railway would complete a most wonderful journey; then 
 the transcontinental journey could be resumed. 
 
 So I mused, as I contrived an arrangement of iron 
 hooks and oak sticks to hold on a hatch cover, from which 
 all the thumb screws had been lost. More than likely 
 my dream of a line of sight-seeing motor boats will be 
 long deferred ; or they may even meet the fate of Brown's 
 and Stanton's plans for a railroad down these gorges. 
 
 As a reminder of the fate which overtakes so many 
 of our feeble plans, we found a record of Stanton's survey 
 on a fallen boulder, an inscription reading "A 8i + 50, 
 Sta. D.C.C. & P.R.R.," the] abbreviations standing 
 for Denver, Colorado Canyons, and Pacific Railroad. 
 It is possible that the hands that chiselled the inscription 
 belonged to one of the three men who were afterwards 
 drowned in Marble Canyon. 
 
 Emery — being very practical — interrupted my rev- 
 ery and plans for future sight-seers by announcing sup- 
 per. The meal was limited in variety, but generous in 
 quantity, and consisted of a dried-beef stew, fried potatoes, 
 and cocoa. A satisfied interior soon dispelled all our 
 previous apprehensiveness. We decided not to run our 
 rapids before we came to them. 
 
COULD WE SUCCEED? I 27 
 
 The water still gave Indications of being higher than 
 the low-water mark, although it was falling fast on the 
 Green River. Each morning, for three days previous 
 to our arrival at the junction, we would find the water 
 about six inches lower than the stage of the evening be- 
 fore. Strange to say, we gained on the water with each 
 day's rowing, until we had almost overtaken the stage 
 of water we had lost during the night. More than likely 
 we would have all the water we needed under the new 
 conditions which were before us. 
 
 Beginning with the Colorado River, we made our 
 journals much more complete in some ways, giving all 
 the large rapids a number and describing many of them 
 in detail. This was done, not only for our own satis- 
 faction, but for the purpose of comparison with others who 
 had gone through, for many of these rapids have histories. 
 
 It was often a question, when on the Green River, 
 where to draw the line when counting a rapid ; this was 
 less diflficult when on the Colorado. While the descent 
 was about the same as in some of the rapids above, the 
 increased volume of water made them look and act 
 decidedly different. We drew the line, when counting a 
 rapid, at a descent having a decided agitation of the water, 
 hidden rocks, or swift descent and with an eddy or whirl- 
 pool below. Major Powell considered that many of 
 these drops in the next canyon were above the ordinary 
 rapid, hence the name, Cataract Canyon. 
 
128 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 At one of the camps below Green River, Utah, my 
 boat had been christened the Defiance, by painting the 
 name on the bow. After leaving the Green we usually 
 referred to the boats by their respective names, Emery 
 being in the Edith, I in the Defiance. 
 
CHAPTER XIII . 
 
 A COMPANION VOYAGER 
 
 Thursday morning, October the 26th, found Emery 
 feeling very poorly, but insisting on going ahead with 
 our day's work, so Camp No. 34 was soon behind us. 
 We were embarked on a new stream, flowing west-south- 
 west, with a body of water ten times the size of that 
 which we had found in the upper canyons of the Green. 
 Our sixteen-foot boats looked quite small when compared 
 with the united currents of the Green and the Grand 
 rivers. The Colorado River must have been about 
 350 feet wide here just below the junction, with a three- 
 mile current, and possibly twenty-five feet deep, although 
 this is only a guess. The Grand River appeared to be the 
 higher of the two streams, and had a decidedly red colour, 
 as though a recent storm was being carried down its 
 gorges ; while the colour of the Green was more of a coffee 
 colour — coffee with a little cream in it. 
 
 A fourth of a mile below the junction the two currents 
 began to mix, with a great ado about it, with small whirl- 
 
 K 129 
 
130 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 pools and swift eddies, and sudden outbursts from beneath, 
 as though a strangled current was struggling to escape 
 from the weight which overpowered it. The boats were 
 twisted this way and that, and hard rowing was neces- 
 sary to carry us down to the steadied current, and to the 
 first rapid, which we could hear when yet far above it. 
 
 Soon we were running rapids again, and getting a 
 lot of sport out of it. There were some rocks, but there 
 was water enough so that these could be avoided. If one 
 channel did not suit us, we took another, and although we 
 were drenched in every rapid, and the cockpit was half 
 filled each time, it was not cold enough to cause us any 
 great discomfort, and we bailed out at the end of each 
 rapid, then hurried on to tackle the next. Each of these 
 rapids was from a fourth to a third of a mile in length. 
 The average was at least one big rapid to the mile. When 
 No. 5 was reached we paused a little longer, and looked 
 it over more carefully than we had the others. It had 
 a short, quick descent, then a long line of white-topped 
 waves, with a big whirlpool on the right. There were 
 numerous rocks which would take careful work to avoid. 
 The waves were big, — big enough for a motion picture, 
 — so Emery remained on shore with both the motion- 
 picture camera and the 8X10 plate camera in position, 
 ready to take the picture, while I ran my boat. 
 
 At the head of this rapid we saw footprints in the 
 sand, but not made with the same shoe as that which 
 
A COMPANION VOYAGER 131 
 
 we had noticed above the junction. We had also seen 
 signs of a camp, and some fishes' heads above this point, 
 and what we took to be a dog's track along the shore. 
 
 At the head of the next rapid we saw them again, 
 but on the opposite side of the river, and could see where 
 a boat had been pulled up on the sand. This next rapid 
 was almost as bad as the one above it, but with a longer 
 descent, instead of one abrupt drop. The following 
 rapid was so close that we continued along the shore to 
 look it over at the same time, saving a stop between the 
 two rapids. The shores were strewn with a litter of 
 gigantic boulders — fallen sections of the overhanging 
 cliffs. We found more of this in Cataract Canyon than 
 in any of the canyons above. This was partly responsible 
 for the violence of the rapids, although the descent of 
 the river would make rough water even if there were no 
 boulders. Working back along the shore, we were sud- 
 denly electrified into quick action by seeing the Edith 
 come floating down the river, close to the shore and almost 
 in the rapid. Emery was a short distance ahead and 
 ran for the Defiance; I caught up a long pole and got on a 
 projecting rock, hoping I might steer her in. She passed 
 me, and was soon in the midst of the rapid before Emery 
 had launched the boat. Three gigantic boulders extended 
 above the water about fifty feet from shore, with a very 
 crooked channel between. Down toward these boulders 
 came the Edith, plunging like a thing possessed. How it was 
 
132 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 done I could never tell, but she passed through the crooked 
 channel without once touching, and continued over the 
 rapid. Meanwhile Emery had run the other side and 
 had gained on the Edith, but only caught her when close 
 to the next rapid ; so he turned her loose and came to 
 the shore for me. 
 
 Emery had not been feeling his best and I advised 
 him to remain on shore while I took the boat. As we 
 made the change we again observed the boat, bounding 
 through the next rapid, whirling on the tops of the waves 
 as though in the hands of a superhuman juggler. I 
 managed to overtake her in a whirlpool below the rapid, 
 and came to shore for her captain. He was nearly ex- 
 hausted with his efforts ; still he insisted on continuing. 
 A few miles below we saw some ducks, and shot at 
 them with a revolver. But the ducks flew disdainfully 
 away, and landed in the pool below. 
 
 By 4.30 P.M. we were twelve miles below the junction, 
 a very good day's run considering the kind of water we 
 were travelling on, and the amount of time we spent on 
 the shore. We had just run our twelfth rapid, and were 
 turning the boats around, when we saw a man back 
 from the shore working over a pile of boxes which he had 
 covered with a piece of canvas. A boat was tied to 
 the water's edge. We called to him, and he answered, 
 but did not seem nearly as much interested in seeing 
 companion travellers as we were, and proceeded with his 
 
LOOKING \\t>T JMO CAlARAcl CANYON. 
 
 CHARLES SMITH AND HIS BOAT. 
 
A COMPANION VOYAGER 133 
 
 work. We landed, and, to save time, introduced our- 
 selves, as there seemed to be a certain aloofness in his 
 manner. He gave the name of Smith — with some hesi- 
 tation, we thought. 
 
 Smith was about medium size, but looked tough and 
 wiry ; he had a sandy complexion, with light hair and 
 mustache. He had lost one eye, the other was that 
 light gray colour that is usually associated with indomi- 
 table nerve. He had a shrewd, rather humorous expres- 
 sion, and gave one the impression of being very capable. 
 Dressed in a neat whipcord suit, wearing light shoes and 
 a carefully tied tie, recently shaved — a luxury we 
 had denied ourselves, all this time — he was certainly 
 an interesting character to meet in this out-of-the-way 
 place. We should judge he was a little over forty years 
 old ; but whether prospector, trapper, or explorer it was 
 hard to say. Some coyote skins, drying on a rock, would 
 give one the impression that he was the second, with a 
 touch of the latter thrown in. These coyotes were 
 responsible for the tracks we had seen, and had mis- 
 taken for dog tracks, but of all the canyons we had 
 seen he was in the last place where we would expect to 
 find a trapper. The coyotes evidently reached the 
 river gorge through side canyons on the left, where we 
 had seen signs of ancient trails. Apart from that there 
 was no sign of animal life. With the last of the wooded 
 canyons, the signs of beaver had disappeared. There 
 
134 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 were a few otter tracks, but they are wily fellows, and 
 are seldom trapped. While there are laws against 
 the trapping of beaver, they seldom prevent the trappers 
 from taking them when they get the chance; they are 
 only a little more wary of strangers ; the thought occurred 
 to us that this trapper may have secured some beaver in 
 the open sections above, and mistrusted us for this 
 reason. 
 
 It was too late to go any farther that evening, so we 
 camped a hundred yards below him, close to where our 
 boats were pulled out. At this place there was a long, 
 wide flat in the canyon, with plenty of driftwood, so we 
 saw no reason why we should quarrel with our neighbour. 
 Smith accepted our invitation to supper, stating that he 
 had just eaten before we arrived, but enjoyed some pine- 
 apple which we had kept for some special occasion, and 
 which was served for dessert. 
 
 Over the table we became better acquainted, and, 
 after learning what we were doing, he recounted his experi- 
 ences. He told us he had left Green River, Utah, a month 
 before, and had been trapping as he came along. He 
 knew there was a canyon, and some rapids below, but 
 had no idea they were so bad, and thought they were 
 about ended. No one had warned him, for he had told 
 no one what he intended doing. He had bought an old 
 water-logged boat that had been built by Galloway, and 
 seeing the uselessness of trying to run the rapids with it. 
 
A COMPANION VOYAGER 1 35 
 
 had worked it down along the shores by holding it with 
 a light chain. Once he had been pulled into the river, 
 twice the boat had been upset, and he was just about 
 dried out from the last spill when we arrived. He had 
 heard us shooting at the ducks, so rather expected com- 
 pany — this in brief was his amazing story. 
 
 We were surprised when we examined the boat closely. 
 It had been well made, but was so old and rotten that it 
 seemed ready to fall to pieces. In places, the nail heads 
 had pulled through the boards. It was entirely open 
 on top — a great risk in such water. His boxes were tied 
 in to prevent loss. These boxes were now piled on the 
 shore, with a large canvas thrown over them. This 
 canvas, fastened at the top and sloping to the ground, 
 served him for a tent ; his bed was underneath. A pair 
 of high-topped boots, placed bottom up over two sticks, 
 stuck in the sand beside the camp-fire, explained the dif- 
 ferent tracks we had seen above. 
 
 Smith evidently was not much alarmed over his 
 situation. About the only thing that seemed to bother 
 him was the fact that his smoking tobacco had been wet 
 several times. That evening we got out our guide-book 
 — Dellenbaugh's " A Canyon Voyage " — and tried to 
 give him an idea of what was ahead. The walls ahead 
 grew higher, and closer together ; sometimes there was a 
 shore on one side, sometimes on the other, at one or two 
 places there was no shore on either side, and the rapids 
 
136 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 continued to get worse, — so we gathered from Dellen- 
 baugh's experience. Above this point there were several 
 places where one could climb out, — we had even seen 
 signs of ancient trails in two side canyons, — below here 
 few such places existed. 
 
 Smith listened to all this attentively, then smiled 
 and said "I guess there will be some way through." 
 After a short visit he returned to his camp. We noticed 
 that he slept on his gun, — to keep it dry, no doubt, for 
 it looked like rain. 
 
 Morning found us very sorry that we had not erected 
 our tent, for it rained nearly all night, but when once in 
 our beds it was a question which was preferable ; to get 
 out in the rain and put up our tent, or remain in our 
 comfortable beds. We remained where we were. As we 
 prepared to leave, we offered Smith a chance to accom- 
 pany us through Cataract Canyon, telling him that we 
 would help him with his boat until the quiet water of 
 Glen Canyon was reached. He declined the opportunity, 
 saying that he would rather travel slowly and do what 
 trapping he could. He welcomed a chance to take a 
 ride on the Defiance, however. We took him over two 
 small rapids, and gave him an insight into our method 
 of avoiding the dangers. He was very enthusiastic about 
 it. On reaching the next rapid we all concluded It would 
 be very unwise to carry any passengers, for It was violent 
 water, so he got out on the shore. 
 
A NAKKOW CHANNEL A I RAl'lD M 
 
 DEVELOPING TESTS. 
 
A COMPANION VOYAGER 
 
 137 
 
 Smith had once seen some moving pictures of Japanese 
 shooting rapids, but he said they were nothing compared 
 to these, remarking that a bronco could hardly buck any 
 harder. The next rapid was just as bad. Rapid No. 14 
 for Cataract Canyon, and Smith helped us secure a mo- 
 tion picture. Then he prepared to return to his camp. 
 Just before leaving he explained rather apologetically, 
 that ranchers, or others, were usually very unfriendly to 
 a stranger coming into their section of the country. 
 He had heard us shooting at the ducks and he imagined 
 we belonged in some of the side canyons or on the top. 
 This explained his puzzling attitude at our first meeting. 
 If he had any beaver skins in his pack this would make 
 him even more suspicious of strangers. We wished him 
 nothing but the best of luck, and were good friends when 
 we parted. His decision to make the trip alone, poorly 
 equipped as he was, seemed like suicide to us. He prom- 
 ised to write to us if he got out, and with a final wave 
 of the hand we left him on the shore. 
 
 The rapid just passed was possibly the scene of the 
 disaster discovered by the Stone expedition. They 
 found a clumsy boat close to the shore, jammed in a 
 mass of rocks, smashed and abandoned. There were 
 tracks of three people in the sand, one track being a 
 boy's. A coat was left on the shore. The tracks disap- 
 peared up a box canyon. Mr. Stone corresponded with 
 the only settlements in all that region, few in number, 
 
138 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 and far distant ; but nothing was ever heard of them. 
 Two other parties have left Green River, Utah, within 
 a year of this find and disappeared in like manner. This 
 seemed to be the usual result of these attempts. In 
 nearly every case they have started in boats that are 
 entirely unfitted for rough water, and, seemingly without 
 any knowledge of the real danger ahead, try to follow 
 where others, properly equipped, have gone through. 
 
 What a day of excitement that was ! We always 
 thought we needed a certain amount of thrills to make 
 life sufficiently interesting for us. In a few hours' time, 
 in the central portion of Cataract Canyon, we experi- 
 enced nearly enough thrills to last us a lifetime. In 
 one or two of the upper canyons we thought we were 
 running rapids. Now we were learning what rapids 
 really were. No sooner were we through one than another 
 presented itself. At each of them we climbed along 
 the boulder-strewn shores — the lower slopes growing 
 steeper, the walls above towering higher — clear to the 
 end of the rapid. Looking upstream we could pick 
 out the submerged rocks hidden in the muddy water, 
 and looking like an Innocent wave from above. Twice 
 we had picked out channels in sharp drops, after care- 
 fully observing their actions and deciding they were 
 free from obstructions, when suddenly the waves would 
 part for an Instant and disclose a hidden rock — In one 
 case as sharp as a hound's tooth — sure disaster if we ever 
 
A COMPANION VOYAGER 1 39 
 
 Struck it. As soon as we had decided on a channel we 
 would lose no time in getting back to our boats and run- 
 ning it, for we could feel our courage oozing from our 
 finger tips with each second's delay. Time and again 
 we got through just by a scratch. Success bred confi- 
 dence ; I distinctly remember feeling that water alone 
 would not upset the boat ; that it would take a collision 
 with a rock to do it. And each time we got through. 
 Twice I almost had reason to reverse my impression of 
 the power of water. First the stern rose up in front of 
 me, as if squaring off at the tops of the cliffs, then de- 
 scended, until it seemed to be trying to plumb the depths 
 of the river. The waves, rolling over me, almost knocked 
 me out of the boat, I lost my hold on the oars and grabbed 
 the sides of the boat ; then, regaining the oars, I finished 
 the run by pulling with the bow headed downstream, 
 for the boat had "swapped ends" in the interval, and 
 was heavy with about three barrels of water in the cock- 
 pit. I bailed out with a grocery box, kept under the seat 
 for that purpose. It had been growing quite cold, and 
 Emery's indisposition — or what was really acute indi- 
 gestion — had weakened him for the past two days, but 
 he pluckily declined to stop. I was soaked with my last 
 immersion and chilled with the wind, so concluded there 
 was no use having him go through the same experience 
 and I ran his boat while he made a picture. We were 
 both ready to camp then, but there was no suitable place 
 
I40 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 and we had to push on to the next rapid. On looking 
 it over we almost gave up our intention of running it. 
 It was about a fourth of a mile long ; a mass of submerged 
 rocks extended entirely across the river; the entire 
 rapid seemed impossible. We finally concluded it might 
 be run by shooting up, stern first, on a sloping rock near 
 the shore, then return as the current recoiled and ran 
 back, dividing on either side of the rock. The only 
 clear channel was one about twelve feet wide, between 
 this rock and the shore. A projecting shore above pre- 
 vented a direct entrance to this channel. 
 
 We threw logs in and watched their action. In each 
 case they paused when within five or six feet of the top 
 of the slope, then returned with the current, whirled 
 back to the side and shot through close to the shore. 
 We planned to go through as close together as possible. 
 Emery was ready first, I held back in a protecting pool, 
 waiting for him to get out of the way. He got his posi- 
 tion, facing stern downstream, gave the slightest shove 
 forward, and the released boat whizzed down for fifty 
 feet and ran up on the rock. She paused a moment, as 
 the water prepared to return. He gave two quick pulls, 
 shooting back again, slightly to the right, until he struck 
 the narrow channel, then reversed his course and went 
 through stern first exactly as we had planned it. The 
 square stern, buoyed up by the air-chamber, lifted the 
 boat out of the resulting wave as he struck the bottom of 
 
A COMPANION VOYAGER 141 
 
 the descent. This much of the rapid had only taken a 
 few seconds. 
 
 I followed at once, but was not so fortunate. The 
 Defiance was carried to the left side, where some water 
 dropped over the side of the rock, instead of reversing. 
 I pulled frantically, seeing visions, meanwhile, of the 
 boat and myself being toppled off the side of the rock, 
 into the boulders and waves below. My rowing had no 
 effect whatever, but the boat was grabbed by the return- 
 ing wave and shot, as if from a catapult, back and 
 around to the right, through the sloping narrow channel, 
 — my returning course describing a half circle. Instead 
 of rising, the pointed bow cut down into the waves until 
 the water was on my shoulders. Emery turned his 
 head for an instant to see what success I was having, and 
 his boat was thrown on to a rock close to the shore. I 
 passed him and landed, just before going into the next 
 rapid. I then went back and helped him off the rock, 
 and he continued his course over the leaping waves. He 
 broke a rowlock before he landed, and had to use the 
 substitute we had hung beside it. 
 
 We found a good spot for a camp just above the 
 next rapid. Our tent was stretched in front of a large 
 boulder. A large pile of driftwood gave us all the fuel 
 needed, and we soon had a big fire going and our wet 
 clothes steaming on the line. 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 A PATIENT AMID THE CATARACTS 
 
 An hour or so after making our camp, we began to 
 doubt the wisdom of our choice of a location, for a down- 
 pour of rain threatened to send a stream of water under 
 the tent. The stream was easily turned aside, while a 
 door and numerous boards found in the drift pile, made 
 a very good floor for the tent and lifted our sleeping 
 bags off the wet sand. We had little trouble in this sec- 
 tion to find sufficient driftwood for fires. The pile at 
 this camp was enormous, and had evidently been gather- 
 ing for years. Some of it, we could be sure, was recent, 
 for a large pumpkin was found deposited in the drift 
 pile twenty-five feet above the low-water stage on which 
 we were travelling. This pumpkin, of course, could only 
 have come down on the flood that had preceded us 
 
 What a mixture of curios some of those drift piles 
 were, and what a great stretch of country they repre- 
 sented ! The rivers, unsatisfied with washing away the 
 fertile soil of the upper country, had levied a greedy toll 
 on the homes along their banks, as well. Almost every- 
 
 142 
 
A PATIENT AMID THE CATARACTS 143 
 
 thing that would float, belonging to a home, could be 
 found in some of them. There were pieces of furniture 
 and toilet articles, children's toys and harness, several 
 smashed boats had been seen, and bloated cattle as well. 
 A short distance above this camp we had found two cans 
 of white paint, carefully placed on top of a big rock above 
 the high-water mark, by some previous voyager.^ The 
 boats were beginning to show the effect of hard usage, 
 so we concluded to take the paint along. At another 
 point, this same day, we found a corked bottle containing 
 a faded note, undated, requesting the finder to write to 
 a certain lady in Delta, Colorado. A note in my journal, 
 beneath a record of this find, reads : "Aha ! A romance 
 at last!" Judging by the appearance of the note it 
 might have been thrown in many years before. Delta, 
 we knew, was on the Gunnison River, a tributary of the 
 Grand River. The bottle must have travelled over two 
 hundred miles to reach this spot. 
 
 A letter which I sent out later brought a prompt 
 answer, with the information that this bottle and four 
 others with similar notes were set adrift by the writer 
 and four of her schoolmates, nearly two years before. 
 An agreement was made that the one first receiving an 
 answer was to treat the others to a dinner. Our find 
 was the second, so this young lady was a guest instead 
 of the host. 
 
 * Left by the Stone expedition. 
 
144 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 Emery took but little interest in our camp arrange- 
 ments this evening, and went to bed as soon as it was 
 possible for him to do so. He said little, but he was 
 very weak, and I could tell from his drawn face that he 
 was suffering, and knew that it was nothing but nervous 
 energy that. kept him at his work — that, and a promise 
 which he 'had made to build a fire, within a stated time 
 now less than two weeks away, in Bright Angel Creek 
 Canyon, nearly three hundred miles below this camp, 
 a signal to his wife and baby that he would be home 
 the next day. I was worried about his condition and I 
 feared a fever or pneumonia. For two or three days he 
 had not been himself. It was one thing to battle with 
 the river when well and strong ; it would be decidedly 
 different if one of us became seriously ill. 
 
 For the first time in all our experiences together, 
 where determination and skill seemed necessary to 
 success, I had taken the lead during the past two 
 days, feeling that my greater weight and strength, 
 perhaps, would help me pull out of danger where 
 he might fail. In two or three rapids I felt sure 
 he did not have the strength to pull away from certain 
 places that would smash the boats. After running the 
 Defiance through these rapids I suggested to him that 
 he would take a picture while I brought the Edith down. 
 He would stay near the Defiance, ready to aid in case of 
 emergency. After being once through a rapid I found it 
 quite a simple matter to run the second boat, and the 
 
THE "EDITH" IN A CATARACT. 
 
 -^i?' 
 
 
 '■mmma 
 
 i \ 
 
 A SEVENTY-FI\E FOOT DROP IN THREE-FOURTHS OF A MILE. 
 
A PATIENT AMID THE CATARACTS 145 
 
 knowledge that he would save me in case of an upset 
 greatly lessened any danger that might have existed. 
 He was too nervous to sleep, and asked me to take 
 a last look at the boats before going to bed. They 
 were pulled well up on the shore and securely tied, I 
 found, so that it would take a flood to tear them loose. 
 The rain, which had stopped for a while, began again as 
 I rolled into the blankets ; the fire, fed with great cotton- 
 wood logs, threw ghostly shadows on the cliffs which 
 towered above us, and sputtered in the rain but refused 
 to be drowned ; while the roar of rapids, Nos. 22 and 
 23 combined, thundered and reverberated from wall to 
 wall, and finally lulled us to sleep. 
 
 The rain continued all night, but the weather cleared 
 in the morning. Emery felt much the same as he had 
 the day before, so we kept the same camp that day. We 
 took some pictures, and made a few test developments, 
 hanging the dark-room, or tent, inside the other tent for 
 want of a better place to tie to. 
 
 Sunday, October the 29th, we remained at the same 
 place, and by evening were both greatly benefited by 
 the rest. On Monday morning we packed up again, 
 leaving only the moving-picture camera out, and pic- 
 tured each other, alternately, as the boats made the 
 plunge over the steep descent in rapid No. 23. Both 
 boats disappeared from sight on two or three occasions 
 in this rapid and emerged nearly filled with water. 
 
146 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 The section just passed is credited with the greatest 
 descent on the rivers, a fall of 75 feet in f of a mile. 
 This includes the three rapids: Nos. 21, 22, and 23. 
 
 Proceeding on our way the canyon narrowed, going 
 up almost sheer to a height of 2500 feet or over. Segre- 
 gated spires, with castle-like tops, stood out from the 
 upper walls. The rapids, or cataracts, compared well 
 with those passed above, connected in some instances 
 by swift-rushing water instead of the quiet pools which 
 were usually found between the rapids. We ran ten 
 rapids this day, but several of these which were counted 
 as one were a series of two or three rapids, which might 
 be one in high water. All had a shore on one side or the 
 other, but caution was imperative when crossing in the 
 swift water between the rapids. A mishap here meant 
 destruction. We figured that we had travelled about 
 ten miles for this day's run. 
 
 The menacing walls continued to go higher with the 
 next day's travel, until they reached a height of 2700 
 feet. The left wall was so sheer that it almost 
 seemed to overhang. The little vegetation which we 
 had found on the lower slope gradually disappeared as 
 the walls grew steeper, but a few scattered shrubs, sage- 
 brush, and an occasional juniper grew on the rocky sides, 
 or in one or two side canyons which entered from the 
 south. These side canyons had the appearance of run- 
 ning back for considerable distances, but we did not ex- 
 
A PATIENT AMID THE CATARACTS I47 
 
 plore any of them and could tell very little about them 
 from the river. 
 
 After our noon lunch this day, in order to keep our 
 minds from dwelling too much on the rather depressing 
 surroundings, we proposed having a little sport. On two 
 or three occasions we had made motion pictures from the 
 deck of the boats as we rowed in the quiet water ; here 
 we proposed taking a picture from the boats as we went 
 over the rapids. The two boats were fastened stern 
 to stern, so that the rowing would be done from the first 
 boat. My brother sat on the bow behind with the 
 motion-picture camera in front of him, holding it down 
 with his chin, his legs clinging to the sides of the boat, 
 with his left hand clutching at the hatch cover, and with 
 his right hand free to turn the crank. In this way we 
 passed over two small rapids. After that one experience 
 we never tried it in a large rapid. As Smith had said a 
 few days before the boat bucked like a broncho, and 
 Emery had a great deal of difficulty to stay with the 
 boat, to say nothing of taking a picture. Once or twice 
 he was nearly unseated but pluckily hung on and kept 
 turning away at the crank when it looked as if he and 
 the camera would be dumped into the river. 
 
 At one point in the lower end of Cataract Canyon we 
 saw the name and date A. G. Turner, '07. Below this, 
 close to the end of the canyon, were some ruins of cliff 
 dwellings, and a ladder made by white men, placed 
 against the walls below the ruins. 
 
148 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 On reaching a very deep, narrow canyon entering 
 from the south, locally known as Dark Canyon, we knew 
 that we were nearing the end of the rapids in Cataract 
 Canyon. Dark Canyon extends a great distance back 
 into the country, heading in the mountains we had seen 
 to the south, when we climbed out at the junction of 
 the Green and the Grand. Pine cones and other growths 
 entirely foreign to the growth of the desert region were 
 found near its mouth. A flood had recently filled the 
 bottom of this narrow canyon to a depth of several 
 feet, but the water had settled down again and left a 
 little stream of clear water running through the boul- 
 ders. The rapid at the end of this canyon was one 
 of the worst of the entire series, and had been the 
 scene of more than one fatality, we had been told. It 
 had a very difficult approach and swung against the 
 right wall, then the water was turned abruptly to the 
 left by a great pile of fallen boulders. The cresting 
 waves looked more like breakers of the ocean than 
 anything we had seen on the river. 
 
 We each had a good scare as we ran this rapid. 
 Emery was completely hidden from my view, he was 
 nearly strangled and blinded by the waves for a few 
 seconds while struggling in the maelstrom ; the Edith 
 was dropped directly on top of a rock in the middle 
 of this rapid, then lifted on the next wave. I also 
 had a thrilling experience but avoided the rock. In 
 
A PATIENT AMID THE CATARACTS 1 49 
 
 the lower part of the rapid a rowlock pulled apart ; 
 and to prevent the boat from turning sideways in the 
 rapid, I threw up my knee, holding the oar against it 
 for a lever until I was in quieter water, and could get 
 the other rowlock in position. 
 
 Separated from my brother in this instance, I had 
 an opportunity to see the man and water conflict, with a 
 perspective much as it would have appeared to a spec- 
 tator happening on the scene. I was out of the heat of 
 the battle. The excitement and indiflPerence to danger 
 that comes with a hand-to-hand grapple was gone. I 
 heard the roar of the rapid ; a roar so often heard that 
 we forgot it was there. I saw the gloom of the great 
 gorge, and the towering, sinister shafts of rock, weakened 
 with cracks, waiting for the moment that would send 
 them crashing tothe bottom. I saw the mad, wild water 
 hurled at the curving wall. Jagged rocks, like the 
 bared fangs of some dream-monster, appeared now and 
 then in the leaping, tumbling waves. Then down 
 toward the turmoil — dwarfed to nothingness by the 
 magnitude of the walls — sped the tiny shell-like boat, 
 running smoothly like a racing machine ! There was 
 no rowing. The oar-blades were tipped high to avoid 
 loss in the first comber ; then the boat was buried in 
 the foam, and staggered through on the other side. It 
 was buffeted here and there, now covered with a ton of 
 water, now topping a ten-foot wave. Like a skilled 
 
150 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 boxer — quick of eye, and ready to seize any temporary 
 advantage — the oarsman shot in his oars for two quick 
 strokes, to straighten the boat with the current or dodge 
 a threatening boulder; then covered by lifting his oars 
 and ducking his head as a brown flood rolled over him. 
 Time and again the manoeuvre was repeated : now here, 
 now there. One would think the chances were about 
 one to a hundred that he would get through. But by 
 some sort of a system, undoubtedly aided, many times, by 
 good luck, the man and his boat won to land. 
 
 After running a small rapid, we came to another, in 
 the centre of which was an island, — the last rapid in 
 Cataract Canyon. While not as bad as the one 
 at Dark Canyon it was rather difficult, and at 
 this point we found no shore on either side. The 
 south side was rendered impassable by great boulders, 
 much higher than the river level, which were scattered 
 through the channel. The opposite channel began much 
 like the rapid at Dark Canyon, sweeping under the wall 
 until turned by a bend and many fallen rocks below the 
 end of the island, then crossed with a line of cresting 
 waves to the opposite side, where it was joined by the 
 other stream, and the left wall was swept clean in like 
 manner. We ran it by letting our boats drop into the 
 stream, but pulled away from the wall and kept close to 
 the island, then when its end was reached crossed the 
 ridge of waves and pulled for the right-hand shore. In 
 
A PATIENT AMID THE CATARACTS 151 
 
 such rapids as this we often found the line of waves in 
 the swift-rushing centre to be several feet higher than the 
 water along the shore. 
 
 Then our thoughts reverted to Smith. What would 
 he do when he came to this rapid ? The only escape was 
 a narrow sloping ledge on the right side, beginning close 
 to the water some distance above the rapid, reaching a 
 height of sixty or seventy feet above the water at the 
 lower end, while a descent could be made to the river 
 some distance below here. It would be possible for him to 
 climb over this with his provisions, but the idea of taking 
 his boat up there was entirely out of the question, and, 
 poorly equipped as he was, an attempt to run it would 
 surely end in disaster. The breaking of an oar, the loss 
 of a rowlock, or the slightest knock of his rotten boat 
 against a rock, and Smith's fate would be similar to tkose 
 others whose bones lay buried in the sands. 
 
 In the next four miles we had no more rapids, but had 
 some fine travelling on a very swift river. It was getting 
 dusk, but we pulled away, for just ahead of us was the 
 end of Cataract Canyon. We camped by a large side 
 canyon on the left named Mille Crag Bend, with a great 
 number of jagged pinnacles gathered in a group at the 
 top of the walls, which had dropped down to a height of 
 about 1 300 feet. We felt just a little proud of our achieve- 
 ment, and believed we had established a record for Cata- 
 ract Canyon, having run all rapids in four days' travelling, 
 and come through in safety. 
 
152 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 We had one rapid to run the next morning at the 
 beginning of Narrow Canyon, the only rapid in this nine- 
 mile long canyon. The walls here at the beginning were 
 twelve or thirteen hundred feet high, and tapered to the 
 end, where they rise about four hundred feet above the 
 Dirty Devil River. Narrow Canyon contains the longest 
 straight stretch of river which we remembered having 
 seen. When five miles from its mouth we could look 
 through and see the snow-capped peak of Mt. Ellsworth 
 beyond. This peak is one of the five that composes the 
 Henry Mountains, which lay to the north of the river. 
 
 Three hours' rowing brought us to the end. We 
 paused a few minutes to make a picture or two of the 
 Dirty Devil River, — or the Fremont River as it is now 
 recorded on the maps. This stream, flowing from the 
 north, was the exact opposite of the Bright Angel Creek, 
 that beautiful stream we knew so well, two hundred and 
 fifty miles below this point. The Dirty Devil was muddy 
 and alkaline, while warm springs containing sulphur and 
 other minerals added to its unpalatable taste. After 
 tasting it we could well understand the feeling of the 
 Jack Sumner, whose remark, after a similar trial, suggested 
 its name to Major Powell. 
 
 A short distance below this we saw a tent, and found 
 it occupied by an old-timer named Kimball. Among 
 other things he told us that he had a partner, named 
 Turner, who had made the trip through the canyons 
 
Copyright by KoW Bros. 
 LOWER CATARACT CANYON. BOATS TANDEM. 
 
 ^^"- 
 M" 
 
 . \ 
 
 BEGINNINGS OF A NATURAL BRIDGE. LAHVKIMH C.VXVON. 
 
A PATIENT AMID THE CATARACTS 1 53 
 
 above, and arrived at this point in safety. This was the 
 man whose name we had seen on the walls in Cataract 
 Canyon. Less than two miles more brought us to the 
 Hite ranch, and post-office. John Hite gave us a cordial 
 reception. He had known of our coming from the news- 
 papers ; besides, he had some mail for us. We spent the 
 balance of the day in writing letters, and listening to 
 Kite's interesting experiences of his many years of resi- 
 dence in this secluded spot. Hite's home had been a 
 haven for the sole survivor of two expeditions which had 
 met with disaster in Cataract, In each case they were 
 on the verge of starvation. Hite kept a record of all 
 known parties who had attempted the passage through 
 the canyons above. Less than half of these parties, 
 excepting Galloway's several successful trips, succeeded 
 in getting through Cataract Canyon without wrecking 
 boats or losing lives. 
 
 After passing the Fremont River the walls on the 
 right or north side dropped down, leaving low, barren 
 sandstone hills rolling away from the river, with a fringe 
 of willows and shrubs beside the water, and with the 
 usual sage-brush, prickly pear, cactus and bunch- 
 grass on the higher ground. We had seen one broken- 
 down log cabin, but this ranch was the only extensive 
 piece of ground that was cultivated. Judging by the 
 size of his stacks of alfalfa, Hite had evidently had 
 a good season. The banks of the south side of the 
 
1 54 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 river were about two hundred feet high, composed of 
 a conglomerate mass of clay and gravel. This spot 
 has long been a ferry crossing, known far and wide 
 as Dandy Crossing, the only outlet across the river 
 for the towns of southeastern Utah, along the San Juan 
 River. The entire 150 miles of Glen Canyon had once 
 been the scene of extensive placer operations. The boom 
 finally died, a few claims only proving profitable. 
 
 One of these claims was held by Bert Loper, one of 
 the three miners who had gone down the river in 1908. 
 Loper never finished, as his boat — a steel boat, by the 
 way — was punctured in a rapid above Dark Canyon 
 but was soon repaired. His cameras and plates being 
 lost, he sent from Hite out for new ones. His com- 
 panions — Chas. Russell, and E. R. Monette — were 
 to wait for him at Lee's Ferry, after having pros- 
 pected through Glen Canyon. Some mistake was made 
 about the delivery of the cameras and, as Hite post- 
 office only had weekly communication with the railroad, 
 a month elapsed before he finally secured them. Lee's 
 Ferry had been discontinued as a post-office at that time, 
 and, although he tried to get a letter in to them, it was 
 never delivered. His disappointment can be imagined 
 better than described, when he reached Lee's Ferry and 
 found his companions had left just a few days previous. 
 They naturally thought if he were coming at all he would 
 have been there long before that, and they gave him up, 
 
A PATIENT AMID THE CATARACTS 155 
 
 not knowing the cause of the delay. They left a letter, 
 however, saying they would only go to the Bright Angel 
 Trail, and the trip could be completed together on the 
 following year. 
 
 Loper spent many hard days working his boat, with 
 his load of provisions, back against the current, and 
 located a few miles below the Hite ranch. 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 PLACER GOLD 
 
 We passed Loper's claim after resuming our journey 
 the next day. His workings were a one-man proposi- 
 tion and very ingenious. We found a tunnel in the gravel 
 a hundred feet above the river, and some distance back 
 from the river bank. A track of light rails ran from 
 the river bank to these workings ; the gravel and sand 
 was loaded into a car, and hauled or pushed to the 
 bank, then dumped into a chute, which sent it down to 
 the river's edge. 
 
 Loper was not at his work however, neither did we 
 find him at his ranch, a mile down the river. He had 
 a neat little place, with fruit trees and a garden, a horse 
 or two, and some poultry. After resuming our rowing, 
 when about a mile down the river, some one called to us 
 from the shore, and Loper himself came running down 
 to meet us. John Hite had requested us to stop and see 
 his brother, Cass Hite, who owned a ranch and placer 
 working nearly opposite where Loper had halted us; so 
 
 is6 
 
PLACER GOLD I 57 
 
 Loper crossed with us, as he was anxious to know of our 
 passage through the canyons. 
 
 We found, in Cass Hite, an interesting "old-timer," 
 one who had followed the crowd of miners and pioneers, 
 in the West, since the discovery of gold on the coast. He 
 was the discoverer of the White Canyon Natural Bridges, 
 of Southern Utah, located between this point and the 
 San Juan River, and had been the first to open the ferry 
 at Dandy Crossing. Hite had prospected Navajo Moun- 
 tain, southwest of this point, in the early sixties, about 
 the time of the Navajos' trouble with the United States 
 army, under the leadership of Kit Carson, who dislodged 
 them from their strongholds in the mountains after many 
 others had failed. Hite's life was saved on more than 
 one occasion by warnings from a friendly chief, or head 
 man of the Western Navajos, known as Hoskaninni, 
 who regarded him as a brother, and bestowed on him the 
 name, Hosteen pes'laki,^ meaning "Silver man." He is 
 still known by this name, and refers to his pretty ranch 
 as Tick a Bo, a Ute word for "friendly." Hite proudly 
 quoted a poem written by Cy Warman about the theme 
 of the Indian's regard for his white friend. Warman 
 had followed the crowd in to this spot at the time of 
 the boom, looking for local colour — human local colour, 
 not the glitter in the sands. It was at John Hite's home 
 where Warman had composed the one time popular song, 
 " Sweet Marie." It would be safe to say that he brought 
 
158 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 his inspiration with him, for this was decidedly a man's 
 country. We were told that it had only been visited by 
 one woman in the past twelve years. Hite insisted on 
 our remaining until the following morning, and we con- 
 cluded that the rest would do us good. He loaded us up 
 with watermelons, and with raisins, which he was curing 
 at that time. We spent a pleasant afternoon under a 
 shaded arbour, listening to his reminiscences, and munch- 
 ing at the raisins. 
 
 That evening Loper told us his story of their canyon 
 expedition. He felt a little bitter about some newspaper 
 reports that had been published concerning this expedi- 
 tion, these reports giving the impression that his nerve 
 had failed him, and that for this reason he had not con- 
 tinued on the journey. We mollified his feelings some- 
 what, when we told him that his companions were not 
 responsible for these reports ; but rather, that short tele- 
 graphic reports, sent out from the Grand Canyon, had been 
 misconstrued by the papers ; and that this accounted for 
 the stories which had appeared. His companionfs had 
 remained at the Grand Canyon for two days following 
 their arrival at Bright Angel Trail. They gave Loper 
 credit, to our certain knowledge, of being the only one 
 of the party who knew how to handle the boats in rough 
 water when they began the trip, and had stated that he 
 ran all the boats through certain rapids until they caught 
 the knack. They could not know of his reasons for the 
 
PLACER GOLD I 59 
 
 delay, and at that time had no knowledge of his arrival 
 at Lee's Ferry, after they had gone. Naturally they were 
 very much puzzled over his non-appearance. 
 
 It got quite cold that night, and we were glad to have 
 the shelter of Hite's hospitable roof. In our trip down 
 the river to this point we had seemed to keep even with 
 the first cold weather. In all places where it was open, 
 we would usually find a little ice accompanied by frost 
 in the mornings, or if no ice had frozen the grass would 
 be wet with dew. In the canyons there was little or no 
 ice, and the air was quite dry. Naturally we preferred 
 the canyons if we had a choice of camps. 
 
 Loper looked as though he would like to accompany 
 us as we pulled away the next morning, after having 
 landed him on the south side of the stream. We, at 
 least, had full confidence in his nerve to tackle the lower 
 Colorado, after his record in Cataract Canyon. The five 
 scattered peaks of the Henry Mountains were now to 
 the north-northwest of us, rugged and snow-capped, 
 supreme in their majesty above this desolate region. 
 
 Signs of an ancient Indian race were plentiful in this 
 section. There were several small cliff dwellings, walled 
 up in ledges in the rocks, a hundred feet or so above a 
 low flat which banked the river. At another place there 
 were hundreds of carvings on a similar wall which over- 
 hung a little. Drawings of mountain-sheep were 
 plentiful ; there was one representing a human figure 
 
l6o THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON fROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 with a bow and arrow, and with a sheep standing on the 
 arrow — their way of telling that he got the sheep, no 
 doubt. There were masked figures engaged in a dance, 
 not unlike some of the Hopi dances of to-day, as they 
 picture them. There were geometrical figures, and 
 designs of many varieties. A small rock building half 
 covered with sand and the accumulations of many years 
 stood at the base of the cliff; and quantities of broken 
 pottery were scattered about the ruin. Farther down 
 the river a pathway was worn into the sandstone where 
 countless bare and moccasined feet had toiled, and 
 climbed over the sloping wall to the mesa above. The 
 ruins in this section were not extensive, like those found 
 in the tributary canyons of the San Juan River, for in- 
 stance, not a very great distance from here. Possibly 
 this people stopped here as they travelled back and forth, 
 trading with their cousins to the north ; or the dwellings 
 may have been built by the scattered members of the 
 tribe, when their strongholds were assailed by the more 
 warlike tribes that crowded in on them from all sides. 
 What a story these cliffs could tell ! What a romance 
 they could narrate of various tribes, as distinct from 
 each other as the nations of Europe, crowding each 
 other; and at the last of this inoffensive race, coming 
 from the far south, it may be ; driven from pillar to post, 
 making their last stand in this desert land ; to perish of 
 pestilence, or to be almost exterminated by the blood- 
 
PLACER GOLD l6l 
 
 thirsty tribes that surrounded them — then again, when 
 the tide changed, and a new type of invader travelled 
 from the east, pushing ever to the west, conquering all 
 before them ! But like the sphinx, the cliffs are silent 
 and voiceless as the hillocks and sand-dunes along the 
 Nile, that other desert stream, with a history no more 
 ancient and momentous than this. 
 
 That night we camped opposite the ruins of a dredge, 
 sunk in the low water at the edge of the river. This 
 dredge had once represented the outlay of a great deal of 
 money. It is conceded by nearly all experts that the 
 sands of these rivers contain gold, but it is of such 
 a fine grain — what is known as flour gold — and the 
 expense of saving it is so great, that it has not paid 
 when operated on such a large scale. A few placers in 
 Glen Canyon have paid individual operators, some of 
 these claims being in gravel deposits from six hundred to 
 eight hundred feet above the present level of the river. 
 
 On the following day we again entered deep canyon ; 
 sheer for several hundred feet, creamy white above, with 
 a dark red colour in the lower sandstone walls. That 
 afternoon we passed a small muddy stream flowing from 
 the north, in a narrow, rock-walled canyon. This was 
 the Escalante River, a stream rising far to the north, 
 named for one of the Spanish priests who had travelled 
 this country, both to the north and the south of this 
 point, as early as the year 1776, about the time when 
 
1 62 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 the New England colonists were in the midst of their 
 struggle with the mother country. 
 
 Just below the Escalante River, the canyon turned 
 almost directly south, continuing in this general direc- 
 tion for several miles. A glimpse or two was had of the top 
 of a tree-covered snow-capped peak directly ahead of us, 
 or a little to the southwest. This could be none other 
 than Navajo Mountain, a peak we could see from the 
 Grand Canyon, and had often talked of climbing, but 
 debated if we could spare the time, now that we were 
 close to it. 
 
 In all this run through Glen Canyon we had a good 
 current, but only one place resembling a rapid. Here, 
 below the Escalante, it was very quiet, and hard pulling 
 was necessary to make any headway. We were anxious 
 to reach the San Juan River that evening, but the days 
 were growing short, and we were still many miles away 
 when it began to grow dusk; so we kept a lookout for 
 a suitable camp. The same conditions that had bothered 
 us on one or two previous occasions were found here; 
 slippery, muddy banks, and quicksand, together with an 
 absence of firewood. We had learned before this to 
 expect these conditions where the water was not swift. 
 The slower stream had a chance to deposit its silt, and 
 if the high water had been very quiet, we could expect to 
 find it soft, or boggy. In the canyons containing swift 
 water and rapids we seldom found mud, but found a 
 
CLIFF Rri\~ \I,AK THE SAN JUAN RIVER. 
 
 RAINBOW NATURAL BRID(.I . UxiklNG SOUTH. 
 
PLACER GOLD I 63 
 
 clean, firm sand, instead. Here in Glen Canyon we had 
 plenty of mud, for the river had been falling the last few 
 days. Time and again we inspected seemingly favourable 
 places, only to be disappointed. The willows and dense 
 shrubbery came down close to the river; the mud was 
 black, deep, and sticky; all driftwood had gone out on 
 the last flood. Meanwhile a glorious full moon had 
 risen, spreading a soft, weird light over the canyon 
 walls and the river; so that we now had a light much 
 better than the dusk of half an hour previous, our course 
 being almost due south. Finally, becoming discouraged, 
 we decided to pull for the San Juan River, feeling sure 
 that we would find a sand-bar there. It was late when 
 we reached it, and instead of a sand-bar we found a delta 
 of bottomless mud. We had drifted past the point where 
 the rivers joined, before noticing that the stream turned 
 directly to the west, with canyon walls two or three hun- 
 dred feet high, and no moonlight entered there. In- 
 stead, it was black as a dungeon. From down in that 
 darkness there came a muffled roar, reverberating against 
 the walls, and sounding decidedly like a rapid. There 
 was not a minute to lose. We pulled, and pulled hard — 
 for the stream was now quite swift close to the right 
 shore, and a sheer bank of earth about ten feet high 
 made it difficult to land. Jumping into the mud at the 
 edge of the water, we tied the boats to some bushes, 
 then tore down the bank and climbed out on a dry, 
 
1 64 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 sandy point of land. At the end or sharp turn of the 
 sheer wall we found a fair camp, with driftwood enough 
 for that night. Emery, weak from his former illness 
 and the long day's run, went to bed as soon as we had 
 eaten a light supper. I looked after the cooking that 
 evening, making some baking-powder bread, — other- 
 wise known as a flapjack, — along with other arrange- 
 ments for the next day ; but I fear my efforts as a cook 
 always resulted rather poorly. 
 
 We had breakfast at an early hour the next morning, 
 and were ready for the boats at 7.15, the earliest start 
 to our record. Our rapid of the night before proved to 
 be a false alarm, being nothing more than the breaking 
 of swift water as it swept the banks of rocks at the turn. 
 It was quite different from what we had pictured in our 
 minds. 
 
 We had long looked forward to this day. Navajo 
 Mountain, with bare, jagged sides and tree-covered dome, 
 was located just a few miles below this camp. It was a 
 sandstone mountain peak, towering 7000 feet above the 
 river, the steep slope beginning some five or six miles 
 back from the stream. The base on which it rested was 
 of sandstone, rounded and gullied into curious forms, a 
 warm red and orange colour predominating. The north 
 side, facing the river, was steep of slope, covered with 
 the fragments of crumbled cliffs and with soft cream- 
 tinted pinnacles rising from its slope. The south side, 
 
PLACER GOLD 165 
 
 we had reason to believe, was tree-covered from top to 
 bottom ; the north side held only a few scattered cedar 
 and pinon. We had often seen the hazy blue dome from 
 the Grand Canyon, one hundred and twenty miles away, 
 and while it was fifty miles farther by the river, we felt 
 as if we were entered on the home stretch ; as if we were 
 in a country with which we were somewhat familiar. 
 
 The Colorado and the San Juan rivers form the 
 northern boundary of the Navajo Indian Reservation, 
 comprising a tract of land as large as many Eastern states, 
 extending over a hundred miles, both east and west 
 from this point. Embodied in this reservation, and 
 directly opposite our camp, was a small section of rugged 
 land set aside for some Utes, who had friendly dealings, 
 and who had intermarried with the Navajo. But if we 
 expected to find the Navajo, or Utes on the shore, ready 
 to greet us, we were doomed to disappointment. 
 
 We explored a few side canyons this morning, 
 hoping to find a spot where some of Major Powell's 
 party — particularly those men who were afterwards 
 killed by the Indians — had chiselled their names, which 
 record we were told was to be found near the San Juan, 
 but on which side we were not sure. While in one of 
 these canyons, or what was really nothing more than a 
 crooked overhanging slit in the rocks, containing a 
 small stream, Emery found himself in some soft 
 quicksand, plunged instantly above his knees, and 
 
1 66 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 sinking rapidly. He would have had a difficult time in 
 getting out of this quicksand without help, for a smooth 
 rock wall was on one side, the other bank of the stream 
 was sheer above him for a few feet, and there was nothing 
 solid which he could reach. We had seen a great deal of 
 quicksand before this, but nothing of this treacherous 
 nature. Usually we could walk quickly over these sands, 
 without any danger of being held in them, or if caught — 
 while lifting on a boat for instance — had no difficulty in 
 getting out. When once out of this canyon we gave up 
 our search for the carved record. 
 
 But it was not the hope of shortening our homeward 
 run, or the prospect of meeting Indians on the shores, 
 or of finding historical records, even, that caused us to 
 make this early start. It was the knowledge that the 
 wonderful Rainbow Natural Bridge, recently discovered, 
 and only visited by three parties of whites, lay hidden 
 in one of the side canyons that ran from the north slope 
 of Navajo Mountain. No one had gone into it from the 
 river, but we were told it could be done. We hoped 
 to find this bridge. 
 
 The current was swift, and we travelled fast, in spite 
 of a stiff wind which blew up the stream, getting a very 
 good view of the mountain from the river a few miles 
 below our camp, and another view of the extreme top, 
 a short distance below this place, not over six miles from 
 the San Juan. We had directions describing the canyon 
 
Copyright by Kulb Bros. 
 RAINBOW NATURAL BRIDGE BETWEEN THE COLORADO RIVER AND NAVAJO 
 MOUNTAIN. HEIGHT THREE HUNDRED AND EIGHT FEET; SPAN TWO HUNDRED 
 AND SEVENTY FEET. NOTE FIGURE ON TOP. PHOTO BY KOLB BROTHERS, SEP- 
 TEMBER, 1913. 
 
PLACER GOLD 1 67 
 
 in which the bridge was located, our informant surmising 
 that it was thirty miles below the San Juan. We thought 
 it must be less than that, for the river was very direct 
 at this place, and a person travelling over the extremely 
 rough country which surrounded this side of the mountain 
 slope would naturally have to travel much farther, so 
 we began to look for it about twelve miles below camp. 
 But mile after mile went by without any sign of the 
 landmarks that would tell us we were at the "Bridge 
 Canyon." Then the river, which had circled the northern 
 side of the peak, turned directly away from it, and we 
 knew that we had missed the bridge. At no point on 
 the trip had we met with a disappointment to equal that ; 
 even the loss of our moving-picture film, after our spill 
 in Lodore, was small when compared with it. 
 
 On looking back over the lay of the land, we felt 
 sure that the bridge was at one of the two places, where 
 we had seen the top of the mountain from the river. 
 To go back against the current would take at least three 
 days. Our provisions were limited in quantity and 
 would not permit it; the canyon had deepened, and a 
 second bench of sheer cliffs rose above the plateau, 
 making it impossible to climb out : so we concluded to 
 make the best of it, and pulled down the stream, trying 
 to put as many miles as possible between ourselves and 
 our great disappointment. This afternoon we passed 
 from Utah into Arizona. For the remainder of the trip 
 
1 68 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 we would have Arizona on one side of the river at least. 
 We had much the same difficulty this evening as we had 
 had the night before in finding a camp. Judging by the 
 evidence along the shore, the high water which came down 
 the San Juan had been a torrent, much greater than 
 the flood on the Colorado and its upper tributaries. 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 A WARNING 
 
 We camped that night at the Ute Ford, or the Crossing 
 of the Fathers ; a noted landmark of bygone days, when 
 Escalante (in 1776) and others later followed the inter- 
 tribal trails across these unfriendly lands. Later maraud- 
 ing Navajo used this trail, crossing the canyon to the 
 north side, raiding the scattered Mormon settlements, 
 bringing their stolen horses, and even sheep, down this 
 canyon trail. Then they drove them across on a frozen 
 river, and escaped with them to their mountain fastness. 
 The Mormons finally tired of these predatory visits, and 
 shut off all further loss from that source by blasting off a 
 great ledge at the north end of the trail. This ruined the 
 trail beyond all hope of repair, and there is no travel 
 at present over the old Ute Crossing. The fording of 
 the river on horseback was effected by dropping down to 
 the river through a narrow side canyon, and crossing to 
 the centre on a shoal, then following a centre shoal down 
 
 for quite a distance, and completing the crossing at a low 
 
 169 
 
I70 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 point on the opposite side. This was only possible at 
 the very lowest stage of water. 
 
 The morning following our arrival here, we walked 
 about a mile up the gravelly slope on the south side, to 
 see if we could locate the pass by which the trail dropped 
 down over these 3000-foot walls. The canyon had 
 changed in appearance after leaving the mountain, and 
 now we had a canyon ; smaller, but not unlike the Grand 
 Canyon in appearance, with an inner plateau, and a 
 narrow canyon at the river, while the walls on top were 
 several miles apart, and towering peaks or buttes rose 
 from the plateau, reaching a height almost equal to the 
 walls themselves. The upper walls were cream-tinted 
 or white sandstone, the lower formation was a warm 
 red sandstone. We could not discover the pass without 
 a long walk to the base of the upper cliffs, so returned 
 to the boats. 
 
 About this time we heard shots, seeming to come from 
 some point down the river, and on the north side. Later 
 a dull hollow sound was heard like pounding on a great 
 bass drum. We could not imagine what it was, but knew 
 that it must be a great distance away. We had noticed 
 instances before this, where these smooth, narrow canyons 
 had a great magnifying effect on noises. In the section 
 above the San Juan, where the upper walls overhung a little, 
 a loud call would roll along for minutes before it finally 
 died. A shot from a revolver sounded as if the cliffs 
 were falling. 
 
A WARNING 171 
 
 Our run this morning was delightful. The current 
 was the best on which we had travelled. The channel 
 swung from side to side, in great half circles, with most of 
 the water thrown against the outside bank, or wall, with 
 a five- or six-mile an hour current close to the wall. We 
 took advantage of all this current, hugging the wall, 
 with the stern almost touching, and with the bow pointed 
 out so we would not run into the walls or scrape our oars. 
 Then, when it seemed as if our necks were about to be 
 permanently dislocated, from looking over one shoulder, 
 the river would reverse its curve, the channel would cross 
 to the other side, and we would give that side of our necks 
 a rest. Once in a great while I would bump a rock, and 
 would look around sheepishly, to see if my brother had 
 seen me do it. I usually found him with a big grin on 
 his face, if he happened to be ahead of me. 
 
 We rowed about twenty miles down the river before 
 we learned what had caused the noises heard in the 
 morning. On rounding a turn we saw the strange spec- 
 tacle of fifteen or twenty men at work on the half-con- 
 structed hull of a flat-bottomed steamboat, over sixty 
 feet in length. This boat was on the bank quite a dis- 
 tance above the water, with the perpendicular walls of a 
 crooked side canyon rising above it. It was a strange 
 sight, here in this out-of-the-way corner of the world. 
 Some men with heavy sledges were under the boat, driving 
 large spikes into the planking. This was the noise we 
 had heard that morning. 
 
172 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 The blasting, we learned later, was at some coal 
 mines, several miles up this little canyon, which bore 
 the name of Warm Creek Canyon. A road led down 
 through the canyon, making it possible to haul the lumber 
 for the boat, clear to the river's edge. The nearest rail- 
 road was close to two hundred miles from this place, 
 quite a haul considering the ruggedness of the country. 
 The material for the boat had been shipped from San 
 Francisco, all cut, ready to put together. The vessel 
 was to be used to carry coal down the river, to a dredge 
 that had recently been installed at Lee's Ferry. 
 
 The dinner gong had just sounded when we landed, 
 and we were taken along with the crowd. There were 
 some old acquaintances in this group of men, we found, 
 from Flagstaff, Arizona. These men had received a 
 Flagstaff paper which had published a short note we had 
 sent from Green River, Utah. They had added a com- 
 ment that no doubt this would be the last message we 
 would have an opportunity to send out. Very cheering 
 for Emery's wife, no doubt. Fortunately she shared our 
 enthusiasm, and if she felt any apprehension her few 
 letters failed to show it. 
 
 We resumed our rowing at once after dinner, for we 
 wished to reach Lee's Ferry, twenty-five miles distant, 
 that evening. We had a good current, and soon left our 
 friends behind us. We pulled with a will, and mile after 
 mile was covered in record time, for our heavy boats. 
 
A WARNING 173 
 
 The walls continued to get higher as we neared our 
 goal, going up sheer close to the river. We judged the 
 greatest of these walls to be about eleven hundred feet 
 high. After four hours of steady pulling we began to 
 weary, for ours were no light loads to propel ; but we were 
 spurred to renewed effort by hearing the sounds of an 
 engine in the distance. On rounding a turn we saw the 
 end of Glen Canyon ahead of us, marked by a breaking 
 down of the walls, and a chaotic mixture of dikes of rock, 
 and slides of brilliantly coloured shales, broken and tilted 
 in every direction. Just below this, close to a ferry, we 
 saw the dredge on the right side of the river. We were 
 quite close to the dredge before we were seen. Some 
 men paused at their work to watch us as we neared them, 
 one man calling to those behind him, "There come the 
 brothers ! " 
 
 A whistle blew announcing the end of their day's labour, 
 and of ours as well, as it happened. There was some 
 cheering and waving of hats. One who seemed to be the 
 foreman asked us to tie up to a float which served as a 
 landing for three motor boats, and a number of skiffs. 
 A loudly beaten triangle of steel announced that the 
 evening meal was ready at a stone building not far from the 
 dredge. We were soon seated at a long table with a lot 
 of others as hungry as we, partaking of a well-cooked 
 and substantial meal. We made arrangements to take 
 a few meals here, as we wished to overhaul our outfits 
 before resuming our journey. 
 
174 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 The meal ended, we inquired for the post-office, and 
 were directed to a ranch building across the Paria River, 
 a small stream which entered from the north, not unlike 
 the Fremont River in size and appearance. Picking 
 our way in the darkness, on boulders and planks which 
 served as a crossing, we soon reached the building, set 
 back from the river in the centre of the ranch. A 
 man named Johnson, with his family, had charge of the 
 ranch and post-office as well. Mail is brought by carrier 
 from the south, a cross-country trip of i6o miles, 
 through the Hopi and Navajo Indian Reservations. 
 
 Johnson informed us that an old-time friend named 
 Dave Rust had waited here three or four days, hoping 
 to see us arrive, but business matters had forced him to 
 leave just the day before. We were very sorry to have 
 missed him. Rust lived in the little Mormon town of 
 Kanab, Utah, eighty miles north of the Grand Canyon 
 opposite our home. In addition to being a cattle man 
 and rancher, he had superintended the construction of a 
 cable crossing, or tramway, over the Colorado River, 
 beside the mouth of Bright Angel Creek, not many miles 
 from our home. He also maintains a cozy camp at this 
 place, for the accommodation of tourists and hunting par- 
 ties, which he conducts up Bright Angel Creek and 
 into the Kaibab Forest. It was while returning from 
 such a hunting trip that we first met Rust. Many are 
 the trips we have taken with him since then, Emery, with 
 
A WARNING 175 
 
 his wife and the baby, even, making the "crossing" 
 and the eighty-mile horseback ride to his home in Kanab, 
 while I had continued on through to Salt Lake City. 
 Rust had been the first to tell us of Galloway and his 
 boating methods ; and had given us a practical demon- 
 stration on the river. Naturally there was no one we 
 would have been more pleased to see at that place, 
 than Rust. 
 
 In our mail we found a letter from him, stating, among 
 other things, that he had camped the night before on 
 the plateau, a few hundred feet above a certain big rapid, 
 well known through this section as the Soap Creek Rapid. 
 This locality is credited with being the scene of the first 
 fatality which overtook the Brown-Stanton expedition ; 
 Brown being upset and drowned in the next rapid which 
 followed, after having portaged the Soap Creek Rapid. 
 Rust wrote also that there was a shore along the rapid, 
 so there would be no difficulty in making the portage ; and 
 concluded by saying that he had a very impressive dream 
 about us that night, the second of its kind since we had 
 started on our journey. 
 
 We understood from this that he had certain mis- 
 givings about this rapid, and took his dream to be a sort 
 of a warning. Rust should have known us better. 
 With all the perversity of human nature that letter made 
 me want to run that rapid if it were possible. Why 
 not run the rapid, and get a moving picture as it was being 
 
176 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 done. Then we could show Rust how well we had learned 
 our lesson ! So I thought as we returned to the buildings 
 near the dredge, but said nothing of what was in my mind 
 to Emery, making the mental reservation that I would 
 see the rapid first and decide afterwards. 
 
 The foreman of the placer mines called us into his 
 office that evening, and suggested that it might be a good 
 plan to go over our boats thoroughly before we left, 
 and offered us the privilege of using their workshop, 
 with all its conveniences, for any needed repairs. He 
 also let us have a room in one of the buildings for our 
 photographic work. 
 
 This foreman mourned the loss of a friend who had 
 recently been drowned at the ferry. It seemed that the 
 floods which had preceded us, especially that part which 
 came down the San Juan River, had been something 
 tremendous, rising 45 feet at the ferry, where the river 
 was 400 feet wide ; and rising much higher in the narrow 
 portions of Glen Canyon. Great masses of driftwood 
 had floated down, looking almost like a continuous raft. 
 When the river had subsided somewhat, an attempt 
 was made to cross with the ferry. The foreman and 
 his friend, with two others, and a team of horses hitched 
 to a wagon, were on the ferry. When in midstream, 
 it overturned in the swollen current. Three of the men 
 escaped, the other man and the horses were drowned. 
 
 A careful search had been made for the body to a 
 
A WARNING 177 
 
 point a few miles down the river, then the canyon 
 closed in and they could go no farther. The body was 
 never recovered. It is seldom that the Colorado River 
 gives up its dead. The heavy sands collect in the clothes, 
 and a body sinks much quicker than in ordinary water. 
 Any object lodged on the bottom is soon covered with a 
 sand-bar. The foreman knew this, of course ; yet he wished 
 us to keep a lookout for the body, which might, by some 
 chance, have caught on the shore, when the water re- 
 ceded. This was as little as any one would do, and we 
 gave him our promise to keep a careful watch. 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 A NIGHT OF THRILLS 
 
 We declined the offer of a roof that night, preferring 
 to sleep in the open here, for the evening was quite warm. 
 We went to work the next morning when the whistle 
 sounded at the dredge. Beyond caulking a few leaks 
 in the boats, little was done with them. The tin re- 
 ceptacles holding our photographic plates and films were 
 carefully coated with a covering of melted paraffine ; for 
 almost anything might happen, in the one hundred miles 
 of rapid water that separated us from our home. 
 
 Lee's Ferry was an interesting place, both for its old 
 and its new associations. This had long been the home 
 of John D. Lee, well known for the part he took in the 
 Mountain Meadow Massacre, and for which he afterwards 
 paid the death penalty. Here Lee had lived for many 
 years, making few visits to the small settlements to the 
 north, but on one of these visits he was captured. There 
 were six or seven other buildings near the large stone build- 
 ing where we took our meals, so arranged that they made 
 
 a short street, the upper row being built against a cliff 
 
 178 
 
A NIGHT OF THRILLS 1 79 
 
 of rock and shale, the other row being placed halfway 
 between this row and the river. These buildings were 
 all of rock, of which there was no lack, plastered with 
 adobe, or mud. One, we were told, had been Lee's 
 stronghold. It was a square building, with a few very- 
 small windows, and with loopholes in the sides. At 
 the time of our visit it was occupied by two men ; one, 
 a young Englishman, recently arrived from South Africa 
 — a remittance-man, in search of novelty — the other 
 a grizzled forty-niner. Much could be written about 
 this interesting group of men, and their alluring employ- 
 ment. There were some who had followed this work 
 through all the camps of the West — to Colorado, to 
 California, and to distant Alaska as well, they had 
 journeyed ; but it is doubtful if, in all their wanderings, 
 they had seen any camp more strangely located than this, 
 hemmed in with canyon walls. To us, their dredge and 
 the steamboat up the river seemed as if they had been 
 taken from the pages of some romance, or bit of fiction, 
 and placed before us for our entertainment. 
 
 There were other men as well, just as interesting 
 in their way as the "old-timers," the sons of some of the 
 owners of this proposition, — clean-cut young fellows, — 
 working side by side with the veterans, as enthusiastic 
 as if on their college campus. 
 
 One feature about the dredge interested us greatly. 
 This was a tube, or sucker, held suspended by a derrick 
 
l8o THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM, WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 above a float, and operated by compressed air. This 
 tube was dropped into the sand at the bottom of the river, 
 and would eat its way into it, bringing up rocks the size 
 of one's fist, along with the gravel and sand. In a 
 few hours a hole, ten or fifteen feet in depth and ten 
 feet in diameter, would be excavated. Then the tube 
 was raised, the float was moved, and the work started 
 again. The coarse sand and gravel, carried by a stream 
 of water, was returned to the river, after passing over 
 the riffles ; the screenings which remained passed over 
 square metal plates — looking like sheets of tin — covered 
 with quicksilver. These plates were cleaned with a 
 rubber window-cleaner, and the entire residue was 
 saved in a heavy metal pot, ready for the chemist. 
 
 One day only was needed for our work, and by evening 
 we were ready for the next plunge. We might have 
 enjoyed a longer stay with these men, but stronger than 
 this desire was our anxiety to reach our home, separated 
 from us by a hundred miles of river, no extended part 
 of the distance being entirely free from rapids. We 
 had written to the Grand Canyon, bidding them look 
 for our signal fire in Bright Angel Creek Canyon, in from 
 seven to ten days, and planned to leave on the following 
 morning. Nothing held us now except the hope that the 
 mail, which was due that evening, might bring us a letter, 
 although that was doubtful, for we were nearly a week 
 ahead of our schedule as laid out at Green River, Utah. 
 
BADGER CREEK RAPID. NOTE STERN OF BOAT BESIDE ROCK NEAR CENTRE. 
 
 'WJ^ 
 
 H.t' 
 
 "ns^ 
 
 \ ^ 
 
 BANDS OF MARBLE IN MARBLE CANYON. 
 
 Pliolo by Julius F. Stone 
 
A NIGHT OF THRILLS l8l 
 
 As we had anticipated, there was no mail for us, so 
 we turned to inspect the mail carrier. He was a splendid 
 specimen of the Navajo Indian, — a wrestler of note 
 among his people, we were told, — large and muscular, 
 and with a peculiar springy, slouchy walk that gave one 
 the impression of great reserve strength. He had ridden 
 that day from Tuba, an agency on their reservation, 
 about seventy miles distant. This was the first sign 
 of an Indian that we had seen in this section, although 
 we had been travelling along the northern boundary of 
 their reservation since leaving the mouth of the San 
 Juan. These Indians have no use for the river, being 
 children of the desert, rather than of the water. Beyond 
 an occasional crossing and swimming their horses at 
 easy fords, they make no attempt at its navigation, even 
 in the quiet water of Glen Canyon. 
 
 Some of the men showed this Indian our boats, and 
 told him of our journey. He smiled, and shrugged 
 his massive shoulders as much as to say, he "would 
 believe it when he saw it." He had an opportunity to 
 see us start, at least, on the following morning. 
 
 Before leaving, we climbed a 300-foot mound on the 
 left bank of the Paria River, directly opposite the Lee 
 ranch. This mound is known as Lee's Lookout. Whether 
 used by Lee or not, it had certainly served that purpose 
 at some time. A circular wall of rock was built on top 
 of the mound, and commanded an excellent view of all 
 
1 82 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 the approaches to the junction of the rivers. This spot 
 is of particular interest to the geologist, for a great fault, 
 indicated by the Vermilion Cliffs, marks the division 
 between Glen Canyon and Marble Canyon. This line 
 of cliffs extends to the south for many miles across the 
 Painted Desert, and north into Utah for even a greater 
 distance, varying in height from two hundred feet at 
 the southern end to as many thousand feet in some places 
 to the north. Looking to the west, we could see that here 
 was another of those sloping uplifts of rock, with the 
 river cutting down, increasing the depth of the canyon 
 with every mile. 
 
 We had now descended about 2900 feet since leaving 
 Green River City, Wyoming, not a very great fall for 
 the distance travelled if an average is taken, but a con- 
 siderable portion of the distance was on quiet water, as 
 we have noted, with a fall of a foot or two to the mile, 
 and with alternate sections only containing bad water. 
 We were still at an elevation of 3170 feet above the sea- 
 level, and in the 283 miles of canyon ahead of us — 
 Marble Canyon and the Grand Canyon combined — the 
 river descends 2330 feet, almost a continuous series of 
 rapids from this point to the end of the Grand Canyon. 
 
 After a hasty survey from our vantage point, we 
 returned to the river and prepared to embark. As we 
 left the dredge, the work was closed down for a few 
 minutes, and the entire crowd of men, about forty in 
 
A NIGHT OF THRILLS 1 83 
 
 number, stood on an elevation to watch us run the first 
 rapid. The Indian had crossed to the south side of the 
 river to feed his horse and caught a glimpse of us as we 
 went past him. Running pell-mell down to his boat, 
 he crossed the river and joined the group on the bank. 
 About this time we were in the grip of the first rapid, a 
 long splashy one, with no danger whatever, but large 
 enough to keep us busy until we had passed from view. 
 
 A few miles below this, after running a pair of small 
 rapids, we reached a larger one, known as the Badger 
 Creek Rapid, with a twenty-foot drop in the first 250 
 feet, succeeded by a hundred yards of violent water. 
 Emery had a little difficulty in this rapid, when his boat 
 touched a rock which turned the boat sideways in the 
 current, and he was nearly overturned in the heavy waves 
 which followed. As it was, we were both drenched. 
 
 About the middle of the afternoon, twelve miles below 
 Lee's Ferry, we reached the Soap Creek Rapid of which 
 we had heard so much. The rapid had a fall of twenty- 
 five feet, and was a quarter of a mile long. Most of the 
 fall occurred in the first fifty yards. The river had 
 narrowed down until it was less than two hundred feet 
 wide at the beginning of the descent. Many rocks were 
 scattered all through the upper end, especially at the 
 first drop. On the very brink or edge of the first fall, 
 there was a submerged rock in the centre of the channel, 
 making an eight-foot fall over the rock. A violent 
 
1 84 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 current, deflected from the left shore, shot into this 
 centre and added to the confusion. Twelve-foot waves, 
 from the conflicting currents, played leap-frog, jumping 
 over or through each other alternately. Clearly there 
 was no channel on that side. On the right or north side 
 of the stream it looked more feasible, as the water shot 
 down a sloping chute over a hundred feet before meeting 
 with an obstruction. This came in the shape of two 
 rocks, one about thirty feet below the other. To run the 
 rapid this first rock would have to be passed before 
 any attempt could be made to pull away from the 
 second rock, which was quite close to the shore. 
 Once past that there was a clear channel to the end of 
 the rapid, if the centre, which contained many rocks, 
 was avoided. Below the rapid was the usual whirlpool, 
 then a smaller rapid, running under the left wall. This 
 second rapid was the one that had been so fatal for 
 Brown. The Soap Creek rapid in many ways was not 
 as bad as some we had gone over in Cataract Canyon, 
 but there were so many complications that we hesitated 
 a long time before coming to a decision that we would 
 make an attempt with one boat, depending on our good 
 luck which had brought us through so many times, as 
 much as we depended on our handling of the boat. 
 
 It was planned that I should make the first attempt, 
 while Emery remained with the motion-picture camera 
 just below the rock that we most feared, with the agree- 
 
A NIGHT OF THRILLS 1 85 
 
 ment that he was to get a picture of the upset if one 
 occurred, then run to the lower end of the rapid with a 
 rope and a life-preserver. 
 
 After adjusting life-preservers I returned to my boat 
 and was soon on the smooth water above the rapid, hold- 
 ing my boat to prevent her from being swept over the 
 rock in the centre, jockeying for the proper position before 
 I would allow her to be carried into the current. Once 
 in, it seemed but an instant until I was past the first 
 rock, and almost on top of the second. I was pulling 
 with every ounce of strength, and was almost clear of 
 the rock when the stern touched it gently. I had no 
 idea the boat would overturn, but thought she would 
 swing around the rock, heading bow first into the stream, 
 as had been done before on several occasions. Instead 
 of this she was thrown on her side with the bottom of the 
 boat held against the rock while I found myself thrown 
 out of the boat, but hanging to the gunwale. Then the 
 boat swung around and instantly turned upright while I 
 scrambled back into the cockpit. Looking over my 
 shoulder, when I had things well in hand again, I saw my 
 brother was still at the camera, white as a sheet, but 
 turning at the crank as if our entire safety depended on it. 
 After I landed the water-filled boat, however, he confessed 
 to me that he had no idea whether he had caught the upset 
 or not, as he may have resumed the work when he saw 
 that I was safe. 
 
1 86 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 Then we went to work to find out what damage 
 was done. First we found that the case, which was 
 supposed to be waterproof, had a half-inch of water 
 inside, but fortunately none of our films were wet. Some 
 plates which we had just exposed and which were still 
 in the holders were soaked. The cameras also had 
 suffered. We hurriedly wiped off the surplus water 
 and piled these things on the shore, then emptied the 
 boat of a few barrels of water. 
 
 This one experience, I suppose, should have been 
 enough for me with that rapid, but I foolishly insisted on 
 making another trial at it with the Edith, for I felt sure I 
 could make it if I only had another chance, and the fact 
 that Emery had the empty boat at the end of the rapid 
 and could rescue me if an upset occurred greatly lessened 
 the danger. The idea of making a portage, with the loss 
 of nearly a day, did not appeal to me. 
 
 Emery agreed to this reluctantly, and advised waiting 
 until morning, for it was growing dusk, but with the re- 
 mark " I will sleep better with both boats tied at the 
 lower end of the rapid," I returned to the Edith. To 
 make a long story short I missed my channel, and was 
 carried over the rock in the centre of the stream. The 
 Edith had bravely mounted the first wave, and was 
 climbing the second comber, standing almost on end, it 
 seemed to me, when the wave crested over the stern, 
 while the current shooting it from the side struck the 
 
ERNEST V. KOLB. PHOTO 1920. 
 
A NIGHT OF THRILLS 1 8/ 
 
 submerged bow and she fell back in the water upside 
 down. It was all done so quickly, I hardly knew what 
 had occurred, but found myself in the water, whirling 
 this way and that, holding to the right oar with a death- 
 grip. I wondered if the strings would hold, and felt a 
 great relief when the oar stopped slipping down, — as 
 the blade reached the ring. It was the work of a second 
 to climb the oar, and I found I was under the cockpit. 
 Securing a firm hold on the gunwale, which had helped 
 us so often, I got on the outside of the boat, thinking I 
 might climb on top. About that time one of the largest 
 waves broke over me, knocking me on the side of the 
 head as if with a solid object, nearly tearing me from 
 the boat. After that I kept as close to the boat as 
 possible, paddling with my feet to keep them clear of 
 rocks. Then the suction of the boat caught them and 
 dragged them under, and for the rest of the rapid I had 
 all I could do to hang to the boat. As the rapid dwindled 
 I began to look for Emery, but was unable to see him, 
 for it was now growing quite dark, but I could see a fire 
 on shore that he had built. I tried to call but was 
 strangled with the breaking waves ; my voice was drowned 
 in the roar of the rapid. One of the life-preservers was 
 torn loose and floated ahead of me. Finally I got an 
 answer, and could see that Emery had launched his boat. 
 As he drew near I told him to save the life-preserver, 
 which he did, then hurriedly pulled for me. I remarked 
 with a forced laugh, to reassure him. 
 
1 88 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 "Gee, Emery, this water's cold." 
 
 He failed to join in my levity, however, and said with 
 feeling, "Thank the good Lord you are here !" and 
 down in my heart I echoed his prayer of thanks. 
 
 Somehow I had lost all desire to successfully navigate 
 the Soap Creek Rapid. 
 
 But our troubles were not entirely over. Emery 
 had pulled me in after a futile attempt or two, with a 
 hold sometimes used by wrestlers, linking his arm in 
 mine, leaning forward, and pulling me in over his back. 
 I was so numbed by the cold that I could do little to help 
 him, after what, I suppose, was about a quarter of an 
 hour's struggle in the water; although it seemed much 
 longer than that to me. 
 
 We then caught the Edith and attempted to turn her 
 over, but before this could be done we were dragged 
 into the next rapid. Emery caught up the oars, while I 
 could do nothing but hold to the upturned boat, half 
 filled with water, striving to drag us against the wall 
 on the left side of the stream. It was no small task to 
 handle the two boats in this way, but Emery made it ; 
 then, when he thought we were sure of a landing, the 
 Edith dragged us into the river again. Two more small 
 rapids were run as we peered through the darkness for 
 a landing. Finally we reached the shore over a mile 
 below the Soap Creek Rapid. We were on the opposite 
 side of the stream from that where we had unloaded the 
 
o w 
 
A NIGHT OF THRILLS 1 89 
 
 Defiance. This material would have to stay where it was 
 that night. 
 
 While bailing the water from the Edith we noticed a 
 peculiar odour, and thought for a while that it might be 
 the body of the man who was drowned at the ferry, but 
 later we found it came from a green cottonwood log 
 that had become water-soaked, and was embedded in 
 the sand, close to our landing. It was Emery's turn to 
 do the greater part of the camp work that night, while I 
 was content to hug the fire, wrapped in blankets, waiting 
 for the coffee to boil. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 MARBLE HALLS AND MARBLE WALLS 
 
 There was little of the spectacular in our work the 
 next day as we slowly and laboriously dragged an empty 
 boat upstream against the swift-running current, taking 
 advantage of many little eddies, but finding much of the 
 shore swept clean. I had ample opportunity to ponder 
 on the wisdom of my attempt to save time by 
 running the Soap Creek Rapid instead of making 
 a portage, while we carried our loads over the immense 
 boulders that banked the stream, down to a swift piece 
 of water, past which we could not well bring the boats ; 
 or while we developed the wet plates from the ruined 
 plate-holders. It was with no little surprise that we 
 found all the plates, except a few which were not uni- 
 formly wet and developed unevenly, could be saved. 
 It took a day and a half to complete all this work. 
 
 Marble Canyon was now beginning to narrow up, 
 
 with a steep, boulder-covered slope on either side, three 
 
 or four hundred feet high ; with a sheer wall of dark red 
 
 limestone of equal height directly above that. There 
 
 190 
 
MARBLE HALLS AND MARBLE WALLS 191 
 
 was also a plateau of red sandstone and distant walls 
 topped with light-coloured rock, the same formations with 
 which we were familiar in the Grand Canyon. The 
 inner gorge had narrowed from a thousand feet or more 
 down to four hundred feet, the slope at the river was 
 growing steeper and gradually disappearing, and each 
 mile of travel had added a hundred feet or more to the 
 height of the walls. Soon after resuming our journey 
 that afternoon, the slope disappeared altogether, and the 
 sheer walls came down close to the water. There were 
 few places where one could climb out, had we desired to do 
 so. This hard limestone wall, which Major Powell 
 had named the marble wall, had a disconcerting way of 
 weathering very smooth and sheer, with a few ledges 
 and fewer breaks. 
 
 We made a short run that day, going over a few rapids, 
 stopping an hour to make some pictures where an im- 
 mense rock had fallen from the cliff above into the 
 middle of the river bed, leaving a forty-foot channel 
 on one side, and scarcely any on the other. Below this 
 we found a rapid so much like the Soap Creek Rapid in 
 appearance that a portage seemed advisable. It was 
 evening when we got the Edith to the lower end of this 
 rapid after almost losing her, as we lined her down, and 
 she was wedged under a sloping rock that overhung 
 the rapid. We had two ropes, one at either end, attached 
 to the boat in this case. Emery stood below the rock 
 
192 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 ready to pull her in when once past the rock. There 
 was a sickening crackling of wood as the deck of the 
 boat wedged under and down to the level of the water, 
 and at Emery's call I released the boat, throwing the 
 rope into the river, and hurried to help him. He was 
 almost dragged into the water as the boat swung around, 
 fortunately striking against a sand-bank, instead of the 
 many rocks that lined the shore. We were working with 
 a stream diiferent from the Green River, we found, and 
 the Defiance was taken from the water the next day and 
 slowly worked, one end at a time, over the rocks, up to a 
 level sand-bank, twenty-five or thirty feet above the 
 river. Then we put rollers under her, and worked her 
 down past the rapid. This work was little to our liking, 
 for the boats, now pretty well water-soaked, weighed 
 considerably more than their original five hundred 
 pounds' weight. 
 
 A few successful plunges soon brought back our 
 former confidence, and we continued to run all other 
 rapids that presented themselves. This afternoon we 
 passed the first rapid we remembered having seen, where 
 we could not land at its head before running it. A slightly 
 higher stage of water, however, would have made many 
 such rapids. Just below this point we found the body 
 of a bighorn mountain-sheep floating In an eddy. It was 
 impossible to tell just how he came to his death. There 
 was no sign of any great fall that we could see. He had 
 
g a: 
 =» o 
 
 •S OS 
 a. O 
 
 W 
 H 
 O 
 ;5 
 
 O 
 
 2; 
 < 
 
 w 
 
 33 
 
MARBLE HALLS AND MARBLE WALLS 193 
 
 a Splendid pair of horns, which we would have liked to 
 have had at home, but which we did not care to amputate 
 and carry with us. 
 
 On this day's travel, we passed a number of places 
 where the marble — which had suggested this canyon's 
 name to Major Powell — appeared. The exposed parts 
 were checked, or seamed, and apparently would have 
 little commercial value. We passed a shallow cave or two 
 this day, then found another cave or hole, running back 
 about fifteen feet in the wall, so suitable for a camp that 
 we could not refuse the temptation to stop, although we 
 had made but a very short run this day. The high water 
 had entered it, depositing successive layers of sand on the 
 bottom, rising in steps, one above the other, making con- 
 venient shelves for maps and journals, pots and pans ; 
 while little shovelling was necessary to make the lower 
 level of sand fit our sleeping bags. A number of small 
 springs, bubbling from the walls near by, gave us the first 
 clear water that we had found for some time, and a pile 
 of driftwood caught in the rocks, directly in front of our 
 cave, added to its desirability for a camp. Firewood 
 was beginning to be the first consideration in choosing 
 a camp, for in many places the high water had swept the 
 shores clean, and spots which might otherwise have 
 made splendid camps were rendered most undesirable 
 for this reason. 
 
 So Camp Number 47 was made in this little cave, with 
 
194 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 a violent rapid directly beneath us, making a din that 
 might be anything but reassuring, were we not pretty 
 well accustomed to it by this time. The next day, 
 Sunday, November the I2th, was passed in the same 
 spot. The air turned decidedly cold this day, a hard 
 wind swept up the river, the sky above was overcast, 
 and we had little doubt that snow was falling on the 
 Kaibab Plateau, which we could not see, but which we 
 knew rose to the height of 5500 feet above us, but a few 
 miles to the northwest of this camp. The sheer walls 
 directly above the river dropped down considerably 
 at this point, and a break or two permitted us to climb up 
 as high as we cared to go on the red sandstone wall, 
 which had lost its level character, and now rose in a 
 steep slope over a thousand feet above us. These walls, 
 with no growth but the tussocks of bunch-grass, the 
 prickly pear cactus, the mescal, and the yucca, were more 
 destitute of growth than any we had seen, excepting 
 the upper end of Desolation Canyon, even the upper walls 
 lacking the growth of pinon pine and juniper which we 
 usually associated with them. We were now directly 
 below the Painted Desert, which lay to the left of the 
 canyon, and no doubt a similar desert was on the right- 
 hand side, in the form of a narrow plateau ; but we had 
 no means of knowing just how wide or narrow this was, 
 before it raised again to the forest-covered Buckskin 
 Mountains and the Kaibab Plateau. 
 
MARBLE HALLS AND MARBLE WALLS 195 
 
 The rapid below our camp was just as bad as its roar, 
 we found, on running it the next day. Most of the de- 
 scent was confined to a violent drop at the very beginning, 
 but there was a lot of complicated water in the big waves 
 that followed. Emery was thrown forward in his boat, 
 when he reached the bottom of the chute, striking his 
 mouth, and bruising his hands, as he dropped his oars 
 and caught the bulkhead. An extra oar was wrenched 
 from the boat and disappeared in the white water, or 
 foam that was as nearly white as muddy water ever gets. 
 I nearly upset, and broke the pin of a rowlock, the 
 released oar being jerked from my hand, sending me 
 scrambling for an extra oar, when the boat swept into a 
 swift whirlpool. Emery caught my oar as it whirled 
 past him ; the other was found a half-mile below in an 
 eddy. 
 
 Some of the rapids in the centre of Marble Canyon 
 were not more than 75 feet wide, with a corresponding 
 violence of water. The whirlpools in the wider channels 
 below these rapids were the strongest we had seen, and 
 had a most annoying way of holding the boats just when 
 we thought we had evaded them. Sometimes there would 
 be a whirlpool on either side, with a sharply defined 
 line of division in the centre, along which it was next to 
 impossible to go without being caught on one side or 
 the other. These whirlpools were seldom regarded as 
 serious, for our boats were too wide and heavy to be 
 
196 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 readily overturned in them, although we saved ourselves 
 more than one upset by throwing our weight to the op- 
 posite side. A small boat would have upset. On two 
 occasions we were caught in small whirlpools, where a 
 point of rock projected from the shore, turning upstream, 
 splitting a swift current and making a very rapid and 
 difficult whirl, where the boats were nearly smashed 
 against the walls. Below all such places were the familiar 
 boils, or fountains, or shoots, as they are variously termed. 
 These are the lower end of the whirlpools, emerging often 
 from the quiet water below a rapid with nearly as much 
 violence as they disappeared in the rapids above. These 
 would often rise when least expected, breaking under the 
 boats, the swift upshoot of water giving them such a rap 
 that we sometimes thought we had struck a rock. If one 
 happened to be in the centre of a boil when it broke, it 
 would send them sailing down the stream many times 
 faster than the regular current was travelling, rowing 
 the boat having about as little effect on determining its 
 course as if it was loaded on a flat-car. The other boat, 
 at times just a few feet away, might be caught in the 
 whirlpools that formed at the edge of the fountains, 
 often opening up suddenly under one side of the boat, 
 causing it to dip until the water poured over the edge, 
 holding It to that one spot in spite of every effort to row 
 away. 
 
 Then we would strike peaceful water again, a mile or 
 
WALLS OF MARBLE CANYON. 
 
 Copyright hy Kolb Bros. 
 
MARBLE HALLS AND MARBLE WALLS 197 
 
 two perhaps, so quiet that a thin covering of clear water 
 spread over the top of the sih-laden pool beneath, re- 
 flecting the tinted walls and the turquoise sky beneath its 
 limpid surface. Gems of sunlight sparkled on its bosom 
 and scintillated in the ripples left behind by the oars. 
 When seated with our backs to the strongest light, and 
 when glancing along the top of such a pool instead of 
 into it, the mirror-like surface gave way to a peculiar 
 purplish tone which seemed to cover the pool, so that one 
 would forget it was roily water, and saw only the iridescent 
 beauty of a mountain stream. 
 
 The wonderful marble walls — better known to the 
 miners as the blue limestone walls — now rose from the 
 water's edge to a height of eight or nine hundred feet, 
 the surface of its light blue-gray rock being stained 
 to a dark red, or a light red as the case might be, by the 
 iron from the sandstone walls above. There were a 
 thousand feet of these sandstone layers, red in all its 
 varying hues, capped by the four-hundred foot cross- 
 bedded sandstone wall, breaking sheer, ranging in tone 
 from a soft buff to a golden yellow, with a bloom, or glow, 
 as though illuminated from within. As we proceeded, 
 another layer could be seen above this, the same limestone 
 and with the same fossils — an examination of the rock- 
 slides told us — as the topmost formation at the Grand 
 Canyon. This was not unlike the cross-bedded sand- 
 stone in colour, but lacked its warmth and richness of tint. 
 
198 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 A close examination of the rocks revealed many colours, 
 that figured but little in the grand colour scheme of the 
 canyon as a whole — the detailed ornamentation of 
 the magnificent rock structure. A fracture of wall 
 would show the true colour of the rock, beneath the stain ; 
 lime crystals studded its surface, like gems glinting 
 in the sunlight; beautifully tinted jasper, resembling the 
 petrified wood found in another part of Arizona, was 
 embedded in the marble wall, — usually at the point of 
 contact with another formation, — polished by the sands 
 of the turbid river. 
 
 All this told us that we were coming into our own. 
 Four of the seven notable divisions of rock strata found 
 in the Grand Canyon were now represented in Marble 
 Canyon, and soon the green shale, which underlies the 
 blue limestone, began to crop out by the river as the walls 
 grew higher and the stream cut deeper. 
 
 One turn of the canyon revealed a break where Stanton 
 hid his provisions in a cave — after a second fatality in 
 which two more of this ill-fated expedition lost their 
 lives — and climbed out on top. Afterwards he re-out- 
 fitted with heavier boats and tackled the stream again. 
 
 Just below this break the scene changed as we made 
 a sharp turn to the left. Vasey's Paradise — named by 
 Major Powell after Dr. Geo. W. Vasey, botanist of the 
 United States Department of Agriculture — was dis- 
 closed to view. Beautiful streams gushed from rounded 
 
MARBLE HALLS AND MARBLE WALLS 199 
 
 holes, fifty yards above the river. The rock walls re- 
 minded one of an ivy-covered castle of old England, 
 guarded by a moat uncrossed by any drawbridge. It 
 was trellised with vines, maidenhair ferns, and water-moss 
 making a vivid green background for the golden yellow 
 and burnished copper leaves which still clung to some 
 small Cottonwood trees — the only trees we had seen in 
 Marble Canyon. 
 
 In our haste to push on, we left the brass motion- 
 picture tripod head on an island, from which we pictured 
 this lovely spot. A rapid was put behind us before we 
 noticed our loss, and there was no going back then. 
 
 Another turn revealed a Gothic arch, or grotto, carved 
 at the bend of the wall by the high water, with an overhang 
 of more than a hundred feet, and a height nearly as great, 
 for the flood waters ran above the hundred-foot stage in 
 this narrow walled section. Then came a gloomy, prison- 
 like formation, with a "Bridge of Sighs" two hundred 
 feet above a gulch, connecting the dungeon to the per- 
 pendicular wall beyond ; and with a hundred cave-like 
 openings in its sheer sides like small windows, admitting 
 a little daylight into its dark interior. The sullen boom 
 of a rapid around the turn sounded like the march of an 
 army coming up the gorge, so we climbed back into our 
 boats after a vain attempt to climb up to some of the 
 caves, and advanced to meet our foe. This rapid — the 
 tenth for the day — while it was clear of rocks, had an 
 
200 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 abrupt drop, with powerful waves which did all sorts of 
 things to us and to our boats ; breaking a rowlock and the 
 four pieces of line which held it, and flooding us both with 
 a ton of water. We went into camp a short distance be- 
 low this, in a narrow box canyon running back a hundred 
 yards from the river, a gloomy, cathedral-like interior, 
 with sheer walls rising several hundred feet on three 
 sides of us, and with the top of the south wall 2500 feet 
 above us in plain sight of our camp, the one camp in 
 Marble Canyon where our sleep was undisturbed by 
 the roar of a rapid. But instead of the roar of a rapid, a 
 howling wind swept down from the Painted Desert 
 above, piling the mingled desert sands and river sands 
 about our beds, scattering our camp material over the 
 bottom of the narrow gorge. 
 
 Soon after this camp — the fourth and the last in 
 Marble Canyon — was left behind us, the walls began to 
 widen out, especially on the north-northwest, and by noon 
 we had passed from the narrow, direct canyon, into one 
 with slopes and plateaus breaking the sheer walls, the wall 
 on the left or southeast side being much the lower of the 
 two, and more nearly perpendicular, rising to a height of 
 3200 feet, while the northwest side lifted up to the Kaibab 
 Plateau, one point — miles back from the river — rising 
 6000 feet above us. 
 
 We halted at noon beside the Nan'coweep Valley, a 
 wide tributary heading many miles back in the plateau on 
 
APPROACHING THE GRAND CANYON. 
 
 Copyright by Kolb Bros. 
 NOTE BOAT. 
 
MARBLE HALLS AND MARBLE WALLS 201 
 
 the right, with a ramified series of canyons running into 
 it, and with great expanses of sage-covered flats between. 
 Deer tracks were found on these flats, deer which came 
 down from the forest of the Buckskin Mountains. This 
 was the point selected by Major Powell for the construc- 
 tion of a trail when he returned from his voyage of ex- 
 ploration to study the geology of this section. The 
 trail, although neglected for many years, is still used by 
 prospectors from Kanab, Utah, who make a yearly trip 
 into the canyons to do some work on a mineral ledge 
 a few miles below here. 
 
 What a glorious, exhilarating run we had that day ! 
 From here to the end of Marble Canyon the rapids were 
 almost continuous, with few violent drops and seldom 
 broken by the usual quiet pools. It was the finest kind 
 of water for fast travelling, and we made the most of it. 
 The only previous run we had made that could in any way 
 compare with it was in Whirlpool and Split Mountain 
 canyons, when the high water was on. As we travelled, 
 occasional glimpses were had of familiar places on Green- 
 land Point — that thirty-mile peninsula of the Kaibab 
 Plateau extending between Marble Canyon and the 
 Grand Canyon — where we had gone deer-hunting, or on 
 photographic expeditions with Rust. 
 
 Another valley from the right was passed, then a peak 
 rose before us close to the river, with its flat top rising 
 to a height equal to the south wall. This was Chuar 
 
202 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 Butte. Once more we were in a narrow canyon, narrowed 
 by this peak, but a canyon just the same. Soon we were 
 below a wall we once had photographed from the mouth 
 of the Little Colorado ; then the stream itself came in 
 view and we were soon anchored beside it. This was the 
 beginning of the Grand Canyon. 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 SIGNALLING OUR CANYON HOME 
 
 How long we had waited for this view ! How many 
 memories it recalled — and how different it seemed to our 
 previous visit there ! Then, the high water was on, and 
 the turquoise-tinted mineral water of the Colorado 
 Chiquito was backed up by the turbid flood waters of 
 the Rio Colorado, forty feet or more above the present 
 level. Now it was a rapid stream, throwing itself with 
 wild abandon over the rocks and into the Colorado. 
 There was the same deserted stone hut, built by a 
 French prospector, many years before, and a plough that 
 he had packed in over a thirty-mile trail — the most diffi- 
 cult one in all this rugged region ! There was the little 
 grass-plot where we pastured the burro, while we made a 
 fifteen-mile walk up the bed of this narrow canyon ! 
 What a hard, hot journey it had been ! A year and a half 
 ago we sat on that rock, and talked of the day when we 
 should come through here in boats ! Even then we talked 
 of building a raft, and of loading the burro on it for a spin 
 
 on the flood waters. Lucky for us and for the burro 
 
 203 
 
204 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 that we didn't ! We understand the temper of these 
 waters now. 
 
 Cape Desolation, a point of the Painted Desert on 
 the west side of the Little Colorado, was almost directly 
 above us, 3200 feet high. Chuar Butte, equally as high 
 and with walls just as nearly perpendicular, extended 
 on into the Grand Canyon on the right side, making the 
 narrowest canyon of this depth that we had seen. The 
 Navajo reservation terminated at the Little Colorado, 
 although nothing but the maps indicated that we had 
 passed from the land of the Red man to that of the White. 
 Both were equally desolate, and equally wonderful. 
 With the entrance of the new stream the canyon changes 
 its southwest trend and turns directly west, and continues 
 to hold to this general direction until the northwest 
 corner of Arizona is reached. 
 
 But we must be on again ! Soon familiar segregated 
 peaks in the Grand Canyon began to appear. There 
 was Wotan's Throne on the right, and the "Copper 
 Mine Mesa" on the left. Three or four miles below 
 the junction a four-hundred foot perpendicular wall 
 rose above us. The burro, on our previous visit, was 
 almost shoved off that cliff when the pack caught on a 
 rock, and was only saved by strenuous pulling on the 
 neck-rope and pack harness. Soon we passed some 
 tunnels on both sides of the river where the Mormon 
 miners had tapped a copper ledge. At 4.15 p.m. we 
 
SIGNALLING OUR CANYON HOME 205 
 
 were at the end of the Tanner Trail, the outlet of the Little 
 Colorado Trail to the rim above. It had taken seven 
 hours of toil to cover the same ground we now sped over 
 in an hour and a quarter. Major Powell, in 1872, 
 found here the remnant of a very small hut built of mes- 
 quite logs, but whether the remains of an Indian's or 
 white man's shelter cannot be stated. The trail, without 
 doubt, was used by the Indians before the white man in- 
 vaded this region. 
 
 The canyon had changed again from one which was 
 very narrow to one much more complex, greater, and 
 grander. The walls on top were many miles apart; 
 Comanche Point, to our left, was over 4000 feet above us ; 
 Desert View, Moran Point, and other points on the 
 south rim were even higher. On the right we could 
 see an arch near Cape Final on Greenland Point, over 
 5000 feet up, that we had photographed, from the top, 
 a few years before. Pagoda-shaped temples — the forma- 
 tion so typical of the Grand Canyon — clustered on all 
 sides. The upper walls were similar in tint to those 
 in Marble Canyon, but here at the river was a new forma- 
 tion ; the algonkian, composed of thousands of brilliantly 
 coloured bands of rock, standing at an angle — the one 
 irregularity to the uniform layers of rock — a remnant 
 of thousands of feet of rock which once covered this 
 region, then was planed away before the other deposits 
 were placed. All about us, close to the river, was a 
 
206 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 deep, soft sand formed by the disintegration of the rocks 
 above, as brilliantly coloured as the rocks from which 
 they came. What had been a very narrow stream 
 above here spread out over a thousand feet wide, ran 
 with a good current, and seemed to be anything but a 
 shallow stream at that. 
 
 We had travelled far that day but still sped on, — with 
 a few rapids which did not retard, but rather helped us 
 on our way, and with a good current between these 
 rapids, — only stopping to camp when a three-hundred 
 foot wall rose sheer from the river's edge, bringing to an 
 end our basin-like river bottom, where one could walk 
 out on either side. It was not necessary to hunt for 
 driftwood this evening, for a thicket of mesquite — the 
 best of all wood for a camp-fire — grew out of the sand- 
 dunes, and some half-covered dead logs were unearthed 
 from the drifted sand, and soon reduced to glowing coals. 
 
 Meanwhile, we were enjoying one of those remarkable 
 Arizona desert sunsets. Ominous clouds had been 
 gathering in the afternoon, rising from the southwest, 
 drifting across the canyon, and piling up against the 
 north wall. A few fleecy clouds in the west partially 
 obscured the sun until it neared the horizon, then a 
 shaft of sunlight broke through once more, telegraphing 
 its approach long before it reached us, the rays being 
 visibly hurled through space like a javelin, or a lightning 
 bolt, striking peak after peak so that one almost imagined 
 
SIGNALLING OUR CANYON HOME 207 
 
 they would hear the thunder roll. A yellow flame 
 covered the western sky, to be succeeded in a few minutes 
 by a crimson glow. The sharply defined colours of the 
 difl^erent layers of rock had merged and softened, as the 
 sun dropped from sight ; purple shadows crept into the 
 cavernous depths, while shafts of gold shot to the very 
 tiptop of the peaks, or threw their shadows like silhouettes 
 on the wall beyond. Then the scene shifted again, and it 
 was all blood-red, reflecting from the sky and staining 
 the rocks below, so that distant wall and sky merged, 
 with little to show where the one ended and the other 
 began. That beautiful haze, which tints, but does not 
 obscure, enshrouded the temples and spires, changing 
 from heliotrope to lavender, from lavender to deepest 
 purple ; there was a departing flare of flame like the col- 
 lapse of a burning building; a few clouds in the zenith, 
 torn by the winds so that they resembled the craters 
 of the moon, were tinted for an instant around the crater's 
 rims ; the clouds faded to a dove-like gray ; they darkened ; 
 the gray disappeared ; the purple crept from the canyon 
 into the arched dome overhead ; the day was ended, 
 twilight passed, and darkness settled over all. 
 
 We sat silently by the fire for a few minutes, then 
 rose and resumed our evening's work. This camp 
 was at a point that could be seen from the Grand View 
 hotel, fourteen miles from our home. We talked of 
 building a signal fire on the promontory above the camp, 
 
208 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 knowing that the news would be telephoned to our 
 home if the fire was seen. But we gave up the plan. 
 Although less than twenty miles from Bright Angel 
 Trail, we were not safely through by any means. Two 
 boats had been wrecked or lost in different rapids less than 
 six miles from this camp. The forty-foot fall in the 
 Hance or Red Canyon Rapid was three miles below us ; 
 the Sockdologer, the Grapevine, and other rapids nearly 
 as large followed those ; we might be no more fortunate 
 than the others, and a delay after once giving a signal 
 would cause more anxiety than no signal at all we 
 thought, and the fire was not built. 
 
 Particular attention was paid to the loading of the 
 boats the next morning. The moving-picture film was 
 tucked in the toes of our sleeping bags, and the protecting 
 bags were carefully laced. We were not going to take 
 any chances in this next plunge — the much-talked-of 
 entrance to the granite gorge. A half-hour's run and a 
 dash through one violent rapid landed us at the end of 
 the Hance Trail — unused for tourist travel for several 
 years — with a few torn and tattered tents back in 
 the side canyon down which the trail wound its way. 
 We half hoped that we would find some of the prospec- 
 tors who make this section their winter home either 
 at the Tanner or the Hance Trail, but there was no sign of 
 recent visitors at either place, unless it was the numerous 
 burro tracks in the sand. These tracks were doubtless 
 

 ^T 
 
 ^ 
 
 1 vm-.-^. 
 
 
 
SIGNALLING OUR CANYON HOME 209 
 
 made by some of the many wild burros that roam all 
 over the lower plateaus in the upper end of the Grand 
 Canyon. 
 
 After a careful inspection of the Hance Rapid we 
 were glad the signal fire was not built. It was a nasty 
 rapid. While reading over our notes one evening we 
 were amused to find that we had catalogued different 
 rapids with an equal amount of fall as "good," "bad," or 
 "nasty," the difference depending nearly altogether on 
 the rocks in the rapids. The "good rapids" were noth- 
 ing but a descent of "big water," with great waves, — for 
 which we cared little, but rather enjoyed if it was not 
 too cold, — and with no danger from rocks; the "bad 
 rapids" contained rocks, and twisting channels, but 
 with half a chance of getting through. A nasty rapid 
 was filled with rocks, many of them so concealed in the 
 foam that it was often next to impossible to tell if rocks 
 were there or not, and in which there was little chance 
 of running through without smashing a boat. The 
 Hance Rapid was such a one. 
 
 Such a complication of twisted channels and pro- 
 truding rocks we had not seen unless it was at Hell's 
 Half Mile. It meant a portage — nothing less — the 
 second since leaving that other rapid in Lodore. So 
 we went to work, carrying our duffle across deep, soft 
 sand-dunes, down to the middle of the rapid, where 
 it quieted for a hundred yards before it made the final 
 
2IO THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 plunge. The gathering dusk of evening found all ma- 
 terial and one boat at this spot, with the other one at 
 the head of the rapid, to be portaged the next day. 
 But we did not portage this boat. A good night's rest, 
 and the safeguard of a boat at the bottom of the plunge 
 made it look much less dangerous, and five minutes after 
 breakfast was finished, this boat was beside its mate, 
 and we had a reel of film which we hoped would show 
 just how we successfully ran this difficult rapid. While 
 going over the second section, on the opposite side 
 of the river, Emery was thrown out of his boat for an 
 instant when the Edith touched a rock in a twenty-five 
 mile an hour current, similar to my first upset in the 
 Soap Creek Rapid — the old story : out again ; in 
 again ; on again — landing in safety at the end of the 
 rapid not one whit the worse for the spill. 
 
 This rapid marks the place where the granite, or ig- 
 neous rock, intrudes, rising at a sharp angle, sloping 
 upward down the stream, reaching the height of 1300 feet 
 about one mile below. It marks the end of the large 
 deposit of algonkian. The granite, when it attains its 
 highest point, is covered with a 200- foot layer of 
 sedimentary rock called the tonto sandstone. The 
 top of this formation is exposed by a plateau from a 
 quarter of a mile to three miles in width, on either 
 side of the granite gorge; the same walls which were 
 found in Marble Canyon rise above this. The temples 
 
SIGNALLING OUR CANYON HOME 211 
 
 which are scattered through the canyon — equal In 
 height, in many cases, to the walls — have their foun- 
 dation on this plateau. These peaks contain the same 
 stratified rock with a uniform thickness whether in 
 peak or wall, with little displacement and little sign 
 of violent uplift, nearly all this canyon being the work of 
 erosion : 5000 feet from the rim to the river ; the edges 
 of six great layers of sedimentary rock laid bare and with 
 a narrow 1300- foot gorge through the igneous rock 
 below — the Grand Canyon of Arizona. 
 
 The granite gorge seemed to us to be the one place 
 of all others that we had seen on this trip that would 
 cause one to hesitate a long time before entering. If noth- 
 ing definite was known of its nature. Another person 
 might have felt the same way of the canyons we had 
 passed, Lodore or Marble Canyon, for instance. A 
 great deal depends on the nerves and digestion, no doubt ; 
 and the same person would look at it In a different light 
 at difi'erent times, as we found from our own experiences. 
 Our digestions were in excellent condition just at that 
 time, and we were nerved up by the thought that we 
 were going "to the plate for a home run" If possible, yet 
 the granite gorge had a decidedly sinister look. The walls, 
 while not sheer, were nearly so ; they might be climbed in 
 many places to the top of the granite ; but the tonto sand- 
 stone wall nearly always overhangs this, breaks sheer, 
 and seldom aff"ords an outlet to the plateaus above, except 
 
212 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 where lateral canyons cut through. The rocks are very 
 dark, with dikes of quartz, and with twisting seams of red 
 and black granite, the great body of rock being made up 
 of decomposed micaceous schists and gneiss, a treacher- 
 ous material to climb. The entrance to this gorge is 
 made on a quiet pool with no shore on either side after 
 once well in. 
 
 But several parties had been through since Major 
 Powell made his initial trip, so we did not hesitate, but 
 pushed on with the current. Now we could truly say 
 that we were going home. The Hance Rapid was be- 
 hind us ; Bright Angel Creek was about twelve miles 
 away. Soon we were in the deepest part of the gorge. 
 Great dikes and uplifts of jagged rocks towered above 
 us ; and up, up, up, lifted the other walls above that. 
 Bissell Point, on the very top, could plainly be seen from 
 our quiet pool. 
 
 Then came a series of rapids quite different from the 
 Hance Rapid, and many others found above. Those 
 others were usually caused in part by the detritus or de- 
 posit from side canyons, which dammed the stream, and 
 what might be a swift stream, with a continuous drop, 
 was transformed to a succession of mill-ponds and cata- 
 racts, or rapids. In nearly every case, in low water such 
 as we were travelling on, the deposit made a shore on 
 which we could land and inspect the rapid from below. 
 The swift water invariably makes a narrow channel 
 
SIGNALLING OUR CANYON HOME 21 3 
 
 if it has no obstruction in its way ; it is the quiet stream 
 that makes a wide channel. But the rapids we found 
 this day were nearly all diflferent. They were seldom 
 caused by great deposits of rock, but appeared to be 
 formed by a dike or ledge of hard rock rising from the 
 softer rock — the same intrusion being sometimes found 
 on both sides of the stream — forming a dam the full 
 width of the channel, over which the water made a swift 
 descent, with a long line of interference waves below. 
 But for a cold wind which swept up the stream, this style 
 of rapid was more to our fancy. These were "good 
 rapids," the "best" we had seen. There were few 
 rocks to avoid. Some of the rapids were violent, but 
 careful handling took us past every danger. There 
 was little chance to make a portage at several of these 
 places had we desired to do so. We gave them but a 
 glance from the decks of the boats, then dropped into 
 them. In one instance I saw the Edith literally shoot 
 through a wave bow first, both ends of the boat being 
 visible, while her captain was buried in the foam. 
 
 We had learned to discriminate by its noise, long 
 before we could see a rapid, whether it was filled with 
 rocks, or was merely a descent of big water. The latter, 
 often just as impressive as the former, had a sullen, steady 
 boom ; the rocky rapids had the same sound, punctuated 
 by another sound, like the crack of regiments of musketry. 
 All were greatly magnified in sound by the narrow, echo- 
 
214 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 ing walls. We became so accustomed to this noise that 
 we almost forgot it was there, and it was only after the 
 long, quiet stretches that the noise was noticed. In a 
 few instances only we noticed the shattering vibration 
 of air that is associated with waterfalls. Still there is 
 noise enough in many rapids so that their boom can be 
 heard several miles away from the top of the canyons. 
 
 Guided by these sounds, and aided by our method of 
 holding the boat in mid-stream, while making a recon- 
 noissance, we were quite well aware of what we were 
 likely to find before we anchored above a rapid. We 
 were never fearful of being drawn into a cataract without 
 having a chance to land somewhere. The water is 
 strangely quiet, to a comparatively close distance above 
 nearly all rapids. We usually tied up anywhere from 
 fifty feet to a hundred yards above a drop, before inspect- 
 ing it. If It was a "big-water" rapid, we usually looked 
 it over standing on the seat in the boats, then continued. 
 By signals with the hands, the one first over would guide 
 the other, if any hidden rocks or dangerous channel 
 threatened. While we did not think much about it, 
 we usually noted the places where one might climb out 
 on the plateau. Little could be told about the upper 
 walls from the river. 
 
 A chilling wind swept up the river, penetrating our 
 soaked garments. But we paid little attention to this, 
 only pulling the harder, not only to keep the circulation 
 
SIGNALLING OUR CANYON HOME 21 5 
 
 going, but every pull of the oars put us that much nearer 
 home. We never paused in our rowing until we anchored 
 at 4.30 P.M. under Rust's tramway, close to the mouth 
 of Bright Angel Creek. According to the United States 
 Geological Survey there is a descent of 178 feet from the 
 head of the Hance Rapid to the end of Bright Angel 
 Trail, one mile below the creek. We would have a 
 very moderate descent in that mile. The run from the 
 Hance Rapid had been made in less than five hours. 
 
 Our boats were tied in the shadow of the cage hanging 
 from a cable sixty feet above. It stretched across a quiet 
 pool, 450 feet across — for the river is dammed by debris 
 from the creek below, and fills the channel from wall to 
 wall. Hurriedly we made our way up to Rust's camp, 
 — closed for the winter ; for heavy snows would cover 
 the North Rim in a few days or a few weeks at the far- 
 thest, filling the trails with heavy drifts and driving the 
 cougar into the canyon where dogs and horses cannot 
 follow. But the latch-string was out for us, we knew, 
 had we cared to use the tents. Our signal fire was built 
 a mile above the camp, at a spot that was plainly visible 
 on a clear day from our home on the other side, six miles 
 away as the crow flies. We had often looked at this spot, 
 with a telescope, from the veranda of our studio, watch- 
 ing the hunting and sight-seeing parties ride up the bed 
 of the stream. We rather feared the drifting clouds and 
 mists would hide the fire from view, but now and then 
 
2l6 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 a rift appeared, and we knew if they were looking they 
 could see its light. Camp No. 51 was made close to 
 Bright Angel Creek, that evening, Thursday, November 
 the 1 6th, two months and eight days from the time we 
 had embarked on our journey. 
 
 Three or four hours were spent in packing our ma- 
 terial the next morning, so it could be stored in a miners' 
 tunnel, near the end of the trail. We would pack little 
 of this out, as we intended to resume our river work in a 
 week or ten days. A five-minute run took us over the 
 rapid below Bright Angel Creek, and down to a bend in 
 the river, just above the Cameron or Bright Angel Trail. 
 Two men — guides from the hotel — called to us as our 
 boats swept into view. We made a quick dash over the 
 vicious little drop below the bend, — easy for our boats, 
 but dangerous enough for lighter craft on account of a 
 difficult whirlpool, — and were soon on shore greeting 
 old friends. Up on the plateau, 1300 feet above, a trail 
 party of tourists and guides called down their welcome. 
 The stores were put in the miners' tunnel as we had 
 planned, and the boats were taken above the high-water 
 mark ; placed in dry dock one might say. 
 
 The guides had good news for us and bad news too. 
 Emery's wife had been ill with appendicitis nearly all 
 the time we were on our journey. We had received 
 letters from her at every post-office excepting Lee's Ferry, 
 but never a hint that all was not well-. She knew it would 
 break up the trip. Pretty good nerve, we thought ! 
 
SIGNALLING OUR CANYON HOME 217 
 
 Ragged and weary, but happy ; a little lean and over- 
 trained, but feeling entirely "fit," — we commenced our 
 seven-mile climb up the trail, every turn of which seemed 
 like an old friend. When 1300 feet above the river, our 
 little workshop beside a stream on the plateau — only 
 used at intervals when no water can be had on top, and 
 closed for three months past — gave us our first cheerless 
 greeting. Although little more than a hundred feet from 
 the trail, we did not stop to inspect it. Cameron's Indian 
 Garden Camp was also closed for the day, and we were 
 disappointed in a hope that we could telephone to our 
 home, 3200 feet above. But the tents, under rows of 
 waving cottonwoods, and surrounded by beds of bloom- 
 ing roses and glorious chrysanthemums, gave us a more 
 cheerful welcome than our little building below. We 
 only stopped to quench our thirst in the bubbling spring, 
 then began the four-mile climb that would put us on top 
 of the towering cliff. Soon we overtook the party we 
 had seen on the plateau. Some of the tourists kindly 
 offered us their mules, but mules were too slow for us, 
 and they were soon far below us. Calls, faint at first, 
 but growing louder as we advanced, came floating down 
 from above. On nearing the top our younger brother 
 Ernest, who had come on from Pittsburg to look after 
 our business, came running down the trail to greet us. 
 One member of a troupe of moving-picture actors, in 
 cowboy garb, remarked that we "didn't look like moving- 
 
21 8 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 picture explorers " ; then little Edith emerged from our 
 studio just below the head of Bright Angel Trail and 
 came skipping down toward us, but stopped suddenly 
 when near us, and said smilingly : 
 
 "Is that my Daddy with all those whiskers ?" 
 
Cupyrlykl by Kolb Bros. 
 
 BRIGHT AXGKL CREEK AND CA.NMJX. 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 ONE MONTH LATER 
 
 Naturally we were very impatient to know just 
 what success we had met with in our photographic work. 
 Some of the motion pictures had been printed and re- 
 turned to us. My brother, who meanwhile had taken 
 his family to Los Angeles, sent very encouraging reports 
 regarding some of the films. 
 
 Among the Canyon visitors who came down to inspect 
 
 the results of our trip were Thomas Moran, the famous 
 
 artist, with his daughter, Miss Ruth, whose interest was 
 
 more than casual. Thomas Moran's name, more than any 
 
 other, with the possible exception of Major Powell's, is 
 
 to be associated with the Grand Canyon. It was his 
 
 painting which hangs in the capital at Washington that 
 
 first acquainted the American public with the wonders 
 
 of the Canyon. This painting was the result of a journey 
 
 he made with Major Powell, from Salt Lake City to the 
 
 north side of the Canyon, thirty-eight years before. 
 
 In addition he had made most of the cuts that illustrated 
 
 Major Powell's government report ; making his sketches 
 
 219 
 
220 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 on wood from photographs this expedition had taken 
 with the old-fashioned wet plates that had to be coated 
 and developed on the spot — wonderful photographs, 
 which for beauty, softness, and detail are not excelled, 
 and are scarcely equalled by more modern plates and 
 photographic results. The only great advantage of 
 the dry plates was the fact that they could catch the 
 action of the water with an instantaneous exposure, where 
 the wet plates had to have a long exposure and lost that 
 action. 
 
 Thomas Moran could pick up almost any picture that 
 we made, and tell us at once just what section it came 
 from and its identifying characteristics. His daughter. 
 Miss Ruth, was just as much interested in our trip and 
 its results. She was anxious to know when we would go 
 on again and planned on making the trail trip down to 
 the plateau to see us take the plunge over the first rough 
 rapid. She was just a little anxious to see an upset, 
 and asked if we could not promise that one would occur. 
 
 A month passed before my brother returned from Los 
 Angeles. His wife, who had remained there, was in 
 good health again, and insisted on his finishing the trip 
 at once. We were just as anxious to have it finished, but 
 were not very enthusiastic about this last part on account 
 of some very cold weather we had been having. On 
 the other hand, we feared if the trip was not finished then 
 it might never be completed. So we consoled ourselves 
 
ONE MONTH LATER 221 
 
 with the thought that it was some warmer at the bottom 
 than it was on top, and prepared to make the final plunge 
 — 350 miles to Needles, with a 1600-foot descent in the 
 185 miles that remained of the Grand Canyon. 
 
 A foot of snow had fallen two nights before we planned 
 on leaving. The thermometer had dropped to zero, and a 
 little below on one occasion, during the nights for a week 
 past. Close to the top the trail was filled with drifts. 
 The walls were white with snow down to the plateau, 
 3200 feet below; something unusual, as it seldom de- 
 scends as snow lower than two thousand feet, but turns 
 to rain. But a week of cold, cloudy weather, accompanied 
 by hard winds, had driven all warmth from the canyon, 
 allowing this snow to descend lower than usual. Under 
 such conditions the damp cold in the canyon, while not 
 registered on the thermometer as low as that on top. is 
 more penetrating. Very little sun reaches the bottom 
 of the inner gorge in December and January. It is 
 usually a few degrees colder than the inner plateau 
 above it, which is open, and does get some sun. These 
 were the conditions when we returned to our boats 
 December the 19th, 191 1, and found a thin covering of 
 ice on small pools near the river. 
 
 Our party was enlarged by the addition of two men 
 who were anxious for some river experience. One was 
 our younger brother, Ernest. We agreed to take him 
 as far as the Bass Trail, twenty-five miles below, where 
 
222 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 he could get out on top and return to our home. The 
 other was a young man named Bert Lauzon, who wanted 
 to make the entire trip, and we were glad to have him. 
 Lauzon, although but 24 years old, had been a quartz 
 miner and mining engineer for some years. Coming 
 from the mountains of Colorado, he had travelled over 
 most of the Western states, and a considerable part of 
 Mexico, in his expeditions. There was no question in 
 our minds about Lauzon. He was the man we needed. 
 
 To offset the weight of an extra man for each boat, 
 our supplies were cut to the minimum, arrangements 
 having been made with W. W. Bass — the proprietor 
 of the Bass Camps and of the Mystic Springs Trail — 
 to have some provisions packed in over his trail. What 
 provisions we took ourselves were packed down on two 
 mules, and anything we could spare from our boats was 
 packed out on the same animals. As we were about 
 ready to leave a friendly miner said: "You can't hook 
 fish in the Colorado in the winter, they won't bite nohow. 
 You'd better take a couple of sticks of my giant-powder 
 along. That will help you get 'em, and it may keep you 
 from starving." Under the circumstances it seemed like 
 a wise precaution and we took his giant-powder, as he 
 had suggested. 
 
 The river had fallen two feet below the stage on 
 which we quit a month before. A scale of foot-marks 
 on a rock wall rising from the river showed that the water 
 
J^l~^ 
 
 ^-*^'?- 
 
ONE MONTH LATER 223 
 
 was twenty-seven feet deep at that spot. No measure- 
 ment was made in the middle of the river channel. The 
 current here between two small rapids flows at five 
 and three-fourths miles per hour. The width of the stream 
 is close to 250 feet. The high-water mark here is forty- 
 five feet above the low-water stage, then the river spreads 
 to five hundred feet in width, running with a swiftness 
 and strength of current and whirlpool that is tremendous. 
 The highest authentic measurement in a narrow channel, 
 of which we know, is one made by Julius F. Stone in 
 Marble Canyon. He recorded one spot where the high- 
 water mark was 115 feet above the low-water mark. 
 These figures might look large at first, but if they 
 are compared with some of the floods on the Ohio 
 River, for instance, and that stream were boxed in a 
 two hundred foot channel the difference would not be 
 great, we imagine. 
 
 One of the young men who greeted us when we landed 
 came down with a companion to see us embark. On 
 the plateau 1300 feet above, looking like small insects 
 against the sky-line, was a trail party, equally interested. 
 They did not stand on the point usually visited by such 
 parties but had gone to a point about a mile to the west, 
 where they had a good view of a short, rough rapid. 
 The little rapid below the trail, while it was no place 
 that one would care to swim in, had no comparison with 
 this other rapid in violence. We had promised the 
 
224 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 party that we would run this rapid that afternoon, so 
 we spent little time in packing systematically, but hur- 
 riedly threw the stuff in and embarked. Less than an 
 hour later we had made the two-mile run and the dash 
 through the short rapid, to the entire satisfaction of all 
 concerned. 
 
 We camped a short distance below the rapid, just 
 opposite a grave of a man whose skeleton had been found 
 halfway up the granite, five years before. Judging by 
 his clothes and hob-nailed shoes he was a prospector. 
 He was lying in a natural position, with his head resting 
 on a rock. An overcoat was buttoned tightly about him. 
 No large bones were broken, but he might have had a 
 fall and been injured internally. More likely he became 
 sick and died. The small bones of the hands and feet 
 had been taken away by field-mice, and no doubt the 
 turkey-buzzards had stripped the flesh. His pockets 
 contained Los Angeles newspapers of 1900; he was found 
 in 1906. The pockets also contained a pipe and a pocket- 
 knife, but nothing by which he could be identified. The 
 coroner's jury — of which my brother was a member — 
 buried him where he was found, covering the body with 
 rocks, for there was no earth. 
 
 Such finds are not unusual in this rugged country. 
 These prospectors seldom say where they are going, no 
 track is kept of their movements, and unless something 
 about their clothes tells who they are, their identity is 
 
ONE MONTH LATER 225 
 
 seldom established. The proximity of this grave made 
 us wonder how many more such unburied bodies there 
 were along this river. We thought too of our friend 
 Smith, back in Cataract Canyon, and wondered if we 
 would hear from him again. 
 
 Our helpers got a lot of experience in motion-picture 
 making the next day, while we ran our boats through a 
 number of good, strong rapids, well known locally as the 
 Salt Creek Rapid, Granite Falls or Monument Rapid, 
 the Hermit, the Bouchere, and others. This was all 
 new to the boys, and provided some thrilling entertain- 
 ment for them. When a difficult passage was safely 
 made Bert would wave his hat and yell ''Hoo" in a deep, 
 long call that would carry above the roar of the rapids, 
 then he and Ernest would follow along the shore with 
 their cameras, as these rapids all had a shore on one 
 side or the other. The sun shone on the river this day, 
 and we congratulated ourselves on having made the most 
 of our opportunities. 
 
 In our first rapid the next morning, we had to carry 
 our passengers whether we wanted to or not. There 
 was no shore on either side. In such plunges they would 
 lie down on the deck of the boat behind the oarsman, 
 holding to the raised bulkhead, ducking their heads when 
 an oncoming wave prepared to break over them. Then 
 they would shake themselves as a water-spaniel does, 
 and Bert with a grin would say, 
 
 Q 
 
226 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 "Young fellows, business is picking up !" 
 Ernest agreed, too, that he had never seen anything 
 in Pittsburg that quite equalled it. If the rapid was not 
 bad, they sat upright on the deck, but this made the 
 boats top-heavy, and as much of the oarsman's work 
 depended on swinging his weight from side to side, it 
 was important that no mistake should be made about 
 this distribution of weight. Often the bottom of a boat 
 would show above the water as it listed to one side. At 
 such a time a person sitting on the raised deck might get 
 thrown overboard. 
 
 Before starting on this last trip we had thought it 
 would be only right to give our younger brother a ride in 
 a rapid that would be sure to give him a good ducking, 
 as his experience was going to be short. But the water 
 and the wind, especially in the shadows, was so very 
 cold that we gave this plan up, and avoided the waves 
 as much as possible. He got a ducking this morning, 
 however, in a place where we least expected it. It was 
 not a rapid, just smooth, very swift water, while close 
 to the right shore there was one submerged rock with a 
 foot of water shooting over it, in such a way that it made 
 a *' reverse whirl" as they are called in Alaska — water 
 rolling back upstream, and from all sides as well, to 
 fill the vacuum just below the rock. This one was about 
 twelve feet across ; the water disappeared as though it 
 was being poured down a manhole. 
 
ONE MONTH LATER 227 
 
 The least care, or caution, would have taken me clear 
 of this place ; but the smooth water was so deceptive, 
 and was so much stronger than I had judged it to be, 
 that I found myself caught sideways to the current, 
 hemmed in with waves on all sides of the boat, knocked 
 back and forth, and resisted in all my efforts to pull 
 clear. The boat was gradually filling with the splashing 
 water. Ernest was lying on the deck, hanging on like 
 grim death, slipping oif, first on one side, then on the 
 other, and wondering what was going to happen. So was 
 I. To be held up in the middle of a swift stream was a 
 new experience, and I was not proud of it. The others 
 passed as soon as they saw what had happened, and 
 were waiting in an eddy below. Perhaps we were there 
 only one minute, but it seemed like five. I helped Ernest 
 into the cockpit. About that time the boat filled with 
 splashing water and sunk low, the stream poured over 
 the rock and into the boat, and she upset instantly. 
 
 Ernest had on two life-preservers, and came up about 
 thirty feet below, swimming very well considering that 
 he was weighted with heavy clothes and high-topped 
 shoes. The boys pulled him in before he was carried 
 against a threatening wall. Meanwhile, I held to the 
 boat, which was forced out as soon as she was overturned, 
 and climbed on top, or rather on the bottom. I was 
 trying to make the best of things and was giving a cheer 
 when some one said. 
 
228 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 "There goes your hatch cover and you've lost the 
 motion-picture camera." 
 
 Perhaps I had. My cheering ceased. The camera 
 had been hurriedly shoved down in the hatch a few min- 
 utes before. 
 
 On being towed to shore, however, we found the 
 camera had not fallen out. It had been shoved to the 
 side less than one inch, but that little bit had saved it. 
 It was filled with water, though, and all the pictures 
 were on the unfinished roll in the camera, and were ruined. 
 We had been in the ice-cold water long enough to lose 
 that glow which comes after a quick immersion and were 
 chilled through ; but what bothered me more than any- 
 thing else was the fact that I had been caught in such a 
 trap after successfully running the bad rapids above. 
 We made a short run after that so as to get out of sight 
 of the deceptive place, then proceeded to dry out. The 
 ruined film came in handy for kindling our camp-fire. 
 
 We were now in the narrowest part of the upper por- 
 tion of the Grand Canyon, the distance from rim to rim 
 at one point being close to six miles. The width at 
 Bright Angel varied from eight to fourteen miles. The 
 peaks rising from the plateau, often as high as the canyon 
 walls, and with flat tops a mile or more in width, made 
 the canyon even narrower, so that at times we were in 
 canyons close to a mile in depth, and little over four 
 miles across at the tops. 
 
ONE MONTH LATER 229 
 
 In this section of the granite there were few places 
 where one could climb out. Nearly all the lateral can- 
 yons ended quite a distance above the river, then fell 
 sheer ; the lower parts of the walls were quite often smooth- 
 surfaced, where they were polished by the sands in the 
 stream. The black granite in such cases resembled huge 
 deposits of anthracite coal. Sections of the granite 
 often projected out of the water as islands, with the softer 
 rock washed away, the granite being curiously carved 
 by whirling rocks and the emery-like sands. Holes 
 three and four feet deep were worn by small whirling 
 rocks, and grooves were worn at one place by growing 
 willows working back and forth in the water, the sand, 
 strange to say, having less effect on the limbs than it had 
 on the hard rocks. 
 
 About noon of the day following this upset we reached 
 the end of the Bass Trail and another cable crossing, 
 about sixty feet above the water. Three men were 
 waiting for us, and gave a call when we rowed in sight 
 of their camp. One was Lauzon's brother, another was 
 Cecil Dodd, a cowboy who looked after Bass' stock, 
 and the breaking of his horses, the third was John Nor- 
 berg, an "old timer" and an old friend as well, engaged 
 at that time in working some asbestos and copper claims. 
 
 The granite was broken down at this point, and 
 another small deposit of algonkian was found here. 
 There were intrusions, faults, and displacements both 
 
230 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICX) 
 
 in these formations and in the layers above. These 
 fractures exposed mineral seams and deposits of copper 
 and asbestos on both sides of the river, some of which 
 Bass had opened up and located, waiting for the day 
 when there would be better transportation facilities 
 than his burros afforded. 
 
 This was not our first visit to this section. On other 
 occasions we had descended by the Mystic Spring (or 
 Bass) Trail, on the south side, crossed on the tramway, 
 and were taken by Bass over some of his many trails, 
 on the north side. We had visited the asbestos claims, 
 where the edge of a blanket formation of the rock known 
 as serpentine, containing the asbestos, lay exposed to 
 view, twisting around the head of narrow canyons, and 
 under beetling cliifs. We went halfway up the north 
 rim trail, through Shinumo and White canyons, our 
 objective point on these trips being a narrow box canyon 
 which contained a large boulder, rolled from the walls 
 above, and wedged in the flume-like gorge far above 
 our heads. This trail continues up to the top, going over 
 the narrow neck which connects Powell's Plateau — a 
 segregated section of thickly wooded surface several 
 miles in extent — with the main extent of the Kaibab 
 Plateau. 
 
 Ernest, though slightly affected with tonsillitis, was 
 loath to leave us here. It was zero weather on top, we 
 were told, and it looked it. The walls and peaks were 
 

 
 \ '^r 
 
 '\h 
 
 
ONE MONTH LATER 23 1 
 
 white with snow. He would not have an easy trip. 
 The drifted snow was only broken by the one party that 
 we found at the river, and quite likely it would be very 
 late when he arrived at the ranch. John went up with 
 him a few miles to get a horse for the ride home the next 
 day. Ernest took with him a few hurriedly written 
 letters and the exposed plates. The film we were going 
 to save was lost in the upset. 
 
 On inspecting the provisions which were packed in 
 here we found the grocers had shipped the order short, 
 omitting, besides other necessities, some canned baked 
 beans, on which we depended a great deal. This meant 
 one of two things. We would have to make a quicker 
 run than we had planned on, or would have to get out of 
 the canyon at one of the two places where such an exit 
 could easily be made. 
 
 The M. P. as our motion-picture camera was called 
 — and which was re-christened but not abbreviated by 
 Bert, as "The Member of Parliament" — had to be 
 cleaned before we could proceed. It took all this day, 
 and much of the next, to get the moisture and sand out 
 of the delicate mechanism, and have it running smoothly 
 again. After it was once more in good condition Emery 
 announced that he wanted to work out a few scenes of 
 an uncompleted " movie-drama." The action was snappy. 
 The plot was brief, but harmonized well with the 
 setting, and the "props." Dodd, who was a big Texan, 
 
232 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 was cast for the role of horse thief and bad man in 
 general. Bert's brother, Morris Lauzon, was the deputy 
 sheriff, and had a star cut from the top of a tomato 
 can to prove it. John was to be a prospector. He 
 would need little rehearsing for this part. In addition, 
 he had not been out where he could have the services of 
 a barber for six months past, which was all the better. 
 John had a kind, quiet, easy-going way that made friends 
 for him on sight. He was not consulted about the part 
 he was to play, but we counted on his good nature 
 and he was cast for the part. Emery, who was cast for 
 the part of a mining engineer, arrived on the scene in his 
 boat, after rounding the bend above the camp, tied up 
 and climbed out over the cliffs to view the surrounding 
 country. 
 
 The hidden desperado, knowing that he was being 
 hunted, stole the boat with its contents, and made his 
 escape. The returning engineer arrived just in time to 
 see his boat in the middle of the stream, and a levelled 
 rifle halted him until the boat was hidden around the 
 bend. At that moment the officer joined him, and a 
 hurried consultation was held. Then the other boat, 
 which had been separated from its companion, pulled 
 into sight, and I was hailed by the men on shore. They 
 came aboard and we gave chase. Could anything be 
 better ? The thief naturally thought he was safe, as he 
 had not seen the second boat ! After going over a few 
 
ONE MONTH LATER 233 
 
 rapids, he saw a fire up in the cliffs, on the opposite side of 
 the river. He landed, and climbed up to the camp where 
 John was at work. John shared his camp fare with him, 
 and directed him to a hidden trail. The pursuers, on 
 finding the abandoned boat, quietly followed the trail, 
 and surprised Dodd in John's camp. He was disarmed 
 and sent across the river in the tramway, accompanied 
 by the deputy, and was punished as he richly deserved 
 to be. 
 
 This was the scenario. Bert handled the camera. 
 Emery was the playwright, director, and producer. All 
 rights reserved. 
 
 Everything worked beautifully. The film did not 
 get balled up in the cogs, as sometimes happened. The 
 light was good. Belasco himself could not have improved 
 on the stage-setting. The trail led over the wildest, 
 and most picturesque places imaginable. Dodd made 
 a splendid desperado, and acted as if he had done nothing 
 but steal horses and dodge the officers all his life. A pile 
 of driftwood fifty feet high and with a tunnel underneath 
 made a splendid hiding place for him while the first boat 
 was being tied. Being a cowpuncher, it may be that 
 he did not handle the oars as well as an experienced river- 
 man, but any rapid could be used for an insert. The 
 deputy, though youthful, was determined and never 
 lost sight of the trail. The engineer acted his part well 
 and registered surprise and anger, when he found how 
 
234 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 he had been tricked. John, who had returned, humoured 
 us, and dug nuggets of gold out of limestone rocks, where 
 no one would have thought of looking for them. The 
 fact that the tramway scene was made before any of the 
 others did not matter. We could play our last act first 
 if we wanted to. All we had to do was to cut the film 
 and fasten it on to the end. Emery was justly proud of 
 his first eflForts as a producer. We were sorry this film 
 had not been sent out with Ernest. 
 
 This thrilling drama will not be released in the near 
 future. One day later we found that a drop of water 
 had worked into the lens cell at the last upset. This 
 fogged the lens. We focussed with a scale and had over- 
 looked the lens when cleaning the camera. Nothing 
 but a very faint outline showed on the film. We had 
 all the film we needed for a week after this, for kindling 
 our fires. 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 WHAT CHRISTMAS EVE BROUGHT 
 
 In recording our various mishaps and upsets in these 
 pages, it may seem to the reader as if I have given undue 
 prominence to the part I took in them. If so, it has not 
 been from choice, but because they happened in that 
 way. No doubt a great deal of my trouble was due to 
 carelessness. After I had learned to row my boat fairly 
 well I sometimes took chances that proved to be any- 
 thing but advisable, depending a good deal on luck, and 
 luck was not always with me. My brother was less 
 hasty in making his decisions, and was more careful in 
 his movements, with the result that his boat had few 
 marks of any kind, and he had been more fortunate than 
 I with the rapids. 
 
 It is my duty to record another adventure at this 
 point, in which we all three shared, each in a different 
 manner. This time I am going to give my brother's 
 record of the happenings that overtook us about four 
 o'clock in the afternoon of December the 24th, less than 
 three hours after we left our friends at the Bass Trail 
 
 335 
 
236 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 with "best wishes for a Merry Christmas," and had 
 received instructions from John "to keep our feet dry." 
 
 My brother's account follows : 
 
 "The fourth rapid below the Bass Trail was bad, 
 but after looking it over we decided it could be run. We 
 had taken chances in rapids that looked worse and 
 came through unharmed ; if we were successful here, it 
 would be over in a few minutes, and forgotten an hour 
 later. So we each made the attempt." 
 
 " Lauzon had gone near the lower end of the rapid, 
 taking the left shore, for a sixty-foot wall with a sloping 
 bench on top rose sheer out of the water on the right. 
 The only shore on the right was close to the head of the 
 rapid, a small deposit or bank of earth and rock. The 
 inner gorge here was about nine hundred feet deep." 
 
 "Ellsworth went first, taking the left-hand side. I 
 picked out a course on the right as being the least dan- 
 gerous ; but I was scarcely started when I found myself 
 on a nest of jagged rocks, with violent water all about 
 me, and with other rocks, some of them submerged, 
 below me. I climbed out on the rocks and held the 
 boat." 
 
 "If the others could land below the rapid and climb 
 back, they might get a rope to me and pull me off the 
 rocks far enough to give me a new start, but they could 
 not pull the boat in to shore through the rough water. 
 A person thinks quickly under such circumstances, and 
 
WHAT CHRISTMAS EVE BROUGHT 237 
 
 I had It all figured out as soon as I was on the rocks. 
 The greatest trouble would be to hold the boat if she 
 broke loose." 
 
 "Then I saw that the Defiance was In trouble. She 
 was caught In a reverse whirl In the very middle of the 
 pounding rapid, bouncing back and forth like a great 
 rubber ball. Finally she filled with the splashing water, 
 sank low, and the water pouring over the rock caught 
 the edge of the twelve-hundred pound boat and turned 
 her over as If she were a toy ; my brother was holding to 
 the gunwale when she turned. Still she was held In the 
 whirl, jumping as violently as ever, then turned upright 
 again and was forced out. Ellsworth had disappeared, 
 but came up nearly a hundred feet below, struggling to 
 keep on top but going down with every breaking wave. 
 When the quieter water was reached, he did not seem to 
 have strength enough to swim out, but floated, motion- 
 less, In a standing position, his head kept up by the life- 
 preservers. The next rapid was not over fifty yards 
 below. If he was to be saved It must be done Instantly." 
 
 "I pried the boat loose, jumped in as she swung clear, 
 and pulled with all my might, headed tow^ard the centre 
 of the river. I was almost clear when I was drawn over 
 a dip, bow first, and struck a glancing blow against 
 another rock I had never seen. There was a crash, and 
 the boards broke like egg-shells. It was all done In a 
 few moments. The Edith was a wreck, I did not know 
 
238 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 how bad. My brother had disappeared. Lauzon was 
 frantically climbing over some large boulders, trying to 
 reach the head of the next rapid, where the boat was 
 held in an eddy. My boat was not upset, but the waves 
 were surging through a great hole in her side. She was 
 drawn into an eddy, close to the base of the wall, where 
 I could tie up and climb out. It seemed folly to try 
 the lower end with my filled boat. Climbing to the 
 top of the rock, I could see half a mile down the 
 canyon, but my brother was nowhere to be seen and I 
 had no idea that he had escaped. I was returning to 
 my wrecked boat when Bert waved his arms, and pointed 
 to the head of the rapid. Going back once more, I saw 
 him directly below me at the base of the sheer rock, in an 
 opening where the wall receded. He had crawled out 
 twenty feet above the next rapid. Returning to my 
 wrecked boat, I was soon beside him. He was exhausted 
 with his struggle in the icy waves ; his outer garments 
 were frozen. I soon procured blankets from my bed, 
 removed the wet clothes, and wrapped him up. Lau- 
 zon, true to our expectations of what he would do 
 when the test came, swam out and rescued the Defiance 
 before she was carried over the next rapid. He was 
 inexperienced at the oars and had less than two hours 
 practice after he had joined us. It was a tense moment 
 when he started across, above the rapid. But he made 
 it ! Landing with a big grin, he exclaimed, 'Young 
 

 
 THE INNER PLATEAU, THIRTEEN HUNDRED FEET ABOVE THE RIVER. 
 
 ' "-^ 
 
 «tf^ ■ 
 
 BERT LAL/OX. ABO\ E SLPARATIUX RAPID. 
 
WHAT CHRISTMAS EVE BROUGHT 239 
 
 fellows, business is picking up !' then added, 'And we're 
 losing lots of good pictures ! '" 
 
 " These experiences were our Christmas presents that 
 year. They were not done up in small packages." 
 
 "We repaired the boat on Christmas day. Three 
 smashed side ribs were replaced with mesquite, which 
 we found growing on the walls. The hole was patched 
 with boards from the loose bottom. This was painted ; 
 canvas was tacked over that and painted also, and a sheet 
 of tin or galvanized iron went over it all. This completed 
 the repair and the Edith was as seaworthy as before." 
 
 This is Emery's account of the "Christmas Rapid." 
 
 I will add that the freezing temperature of the water 
 and the struggle for breath in the breaking waves left 
 me exhausted and at the mercy of the river. An eddy 
 drew me out of the centre of the stream when I had 
 given up all hope of any escape from the next rapid. I 
 had seen my brother on the rock below the head of the 
 rapid and knew there was no hope from him. As I was 
 being drawn back into the current, close to the end of 
 the sheer wall on the right, my feet struck bottom on some 
 debris washed down from the cliff. I made three efforts 
 to stand but fell each time, and finally crawled out on 
 my hands and knees. I had the peculiar sensation of 
 seeing a rain-storm descending before my eyes, although 
 I knew no such thing existed; every fibre In my body 
 ached and continued to do so for days afterward ; and 
 
240 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 the moment I would close my eyes to sleep I would see 
 mountainous waves about me and would feel myself 
 being whirled head over heels just as I was in that rapid ; 
 but this rapid, strange to say, while exceedingly rough 
 and swift, did not contain any waves that we would 
 have considered large up to this time. In other words, 
 it depended on the circumstances whether it was bad or 
 not. When standing on the shore, picking a channel, 
 it appeared to be a moderately bad rapid, in which a 
 person, aided with life-preservers, should have little 
 difficulty in keeping on top, at least half the time. After 
 my battle, in which, as far as personal effort went, I had 
 lost, and after my providential escape, that one rapid 
 appeared to be the largest of the entire series. 
 
 It is difficult to describe the rapids with the foot-rule 
 standard, and give an idea of their power. One un- 
 familiar with "white water" usually associates a twelve- 
 foot descent or a ten-foot wave with a similar wave on 
 the ocean. There is no comparison. The waters of the 
 ocean rise and fall, the waves travel, the water itself, 
 except in breakers, is comparatively still. In bad rapids 
 the water is whirled through at the rate of ten or twelve 
 miles an hour, in some cases much swifter ; the surface 
 is broken by streams shooting up from every submerged 
 rock ; the weight of the river is behind it, and the waves, 
 instead of tumbling forward, quite as often break up- 
 stream. Such waves, less than six feet high, are often 
 
WHAT CHRISTMAS EVE BROUGHT 241 
 
 dangers to be shunned. After being overturned in them 
 we learned their tremendous power, a power we would 
 never have associated with any water, before such an 
 experience, short of a waterfall. 
 
 There is a certain amount of danger in the canyons, 
 — plenty of it. Still, in most cases, with care and fore- 
 thought, much of it can be avoided. We think we are 
 safe in saying that half of the parties who have attempted 
 a passage through these canyons have met with fatalities. 
 Most of these have occurred in Cataract Canyon, not 
 because it is any worse than other sections, — certainly 
 no worse than the Grand Canyon, — but because it is 
 easily entered from the quiet, alluring water of the lower 
 Green River. Without a doubt each successful expedi- 
 tion is responsible in a way for others' attempts. In 
 nearly every instance the unfortunate ones have under- 
 estimated the danger, and have attempted the passage 
 with inadequate boats, such as Smith had for instance, 
 undecked and without air chambers. Both of these are 
 imperative for safety. 
 
 We had the benefit of the experiences of others. In 
 addition, our years of work in the canyons had robbed 
 them of their imaginary dangers, and — while we trust 
 that we are not entirely without imagination — much of 
 their weirdness and glamour with which they are insep- 
 arable to the idealist and the impressionist. Each of 
 these upsets could have been avoided by a portage had we 
 
 R 
 
242 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 desired to make one, but success in other rapids made us 
 a little reckless and ready to take a chance. 
 
 Beyond getting our flour wet on the outside, we suf- 
 fered very little loss to our cargo. We placed the two 
 flour sacks beside the fires each evening, until the wet 
 flour dried to a crust. We continued to use out of the 
 centre of the sacks as though nothing had ever hap- 
 pened. 
 
 Bert and I each had a little cough the next morning, 
 but it disappeared by noon. Beyond that, we sufl"ered 
 no great inconvenience from our enforced bath. Sleep- 
 ing in the open, with plenty of healthful exercise, kept us 
 physically fit. 
 
 The cold air and the cold water did not seem to bother 
 the others, but I could not get comfortably warm during 
 this cold snap. Added to this, it took me some time to 
 get over my scare, and I could see all kinds of danger, 
 in rapids, where Emery could see none. I insisted on 
 untying the photographic cases from the boats, and 
 carrying them around a number of rapids before we ran 
 them. It is hardly necessary to say that no upset oc- 
 curred in these rapids. 
 
 Then came a cold day, with a raw wind sweeping up 
 the river. A coating of ice covered the boats and the 
 oars. We had turned directly to the north along the 
 base of Powell's plateau, and were nearing the end of a 
 second granite gorge, with violent rapids and jagged 
 
(. upyriijilt ijij Kolb Bros. 
 THE BREAK IN THE "EDITH." 
 
 Ciipyriyht hy Kolb Bros. 
 
 MERRY CHRISTMAS! THE REPAIR WAS MADE WITH BILGE BOARDS, CANVAS, 
 
 PAINT, AND TIN. 
 
WHAT CHRISTMAS EVE BROUGHT 243 
 
 rocks. Emery made the remark that he had not had 
 a swim for some time. In a half-hour we came to a 
 rapid with two twelve-foot waves in the centre of the 
 stream, with a projecting point above that would have 
 to be passed, before we could pull out of the swift-running 
 centre. Emery got his swim there. I was just behind 
 and was more fortunate. I never saw anything more 
 quickly done. Before the boat was fully overturned 
 he swung an oar, so that it stuck out at an angle from 
 the side of the boat, and used the oar for a step ; an in- 
 stant later he had cut the oar loose, and steered toward 
 the shore. Bert threw him a rope from the shore, and 
 he was pulled in. He was wearing a thin rubber coat 
 fitting tightly about his wrists, tied about his neck, and 
 belted at the waist. This protected him so thoroughly 
 that he was only wet from the waist down. 
 
 If we were a little inclined to be proud of our record 
 above Bright Angel we had forgotten all about it by this 
 time. We were scarcely more than sixty miles from home 
 and had experienced three upsets and a smashed boat, 
 all in one week. 
 
 Just at the end of the second granite section we made 
 our first portage since leaving Bright Angel. Bert and 
 I worked on the boats, while Emery cooked the evening 
 meal. 
 
 Hot rice soup, flavoured with a can of prepared meat, 
 was easily and quickly prepared, and formed one of the 
 
244 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 usual dishes at these meals. It contained a lot of nu- 
 triment, and the rice took up but little space in the boats. 
 Sometimes the meat was omitted, and raisins were sub- 
 stituted. Prepared baked beans were a staple dish, 
 but were not in our supply on this last part of the trip. 
 We often made "hot cakes" twice a day; an excuse for 
 eating a great deal of butter and honey, or syrup. None 
 of these things were luxuries. They were the best food- 
 stuff we could carry. We seemed to crave sweet stuff, 
 and used quantities of sugar. We could carry eggs, 
 when packed in sawdust, without trouble but did not 
 carry many. We had little meat ; what we had was 
 bacon, and prepared meats of the lunch variety. Cheese 
 was our main substitute for meat. It was easily carried 
 and kept well. Dried peaches or apricots were on the 
 bill for nearly every meal, each day's allowance being 
 cooked the evening before. We tried several condensed 
 or emergency foods, but discarded them all but one, 
 for various reasons. The exception was Erbeswurst, a 
 patent dried soup preparation. Other prepared soups 
 were carried also. I must not forget the morning cereal. 
 It was Cream of Wheat, easily prepared ; eaten — 
 not served, perhaps devoured would be a better word — 
 with sugar and condensed cream, as long as it lasted, 
 then with butter. Any remainder from breakfast was 
 fried for other meals. Each evening, we would make 
 some baking-powder biscuit in a frying-pan. A Dutch 
 
WHAT CHRISTMAS EVE BROUGHT 245 
 
 oven is better, but had too much weight. The appella- 
 tion for such bread is "flapjack" or "dough-god." When 
 I did the baking they were fearfully and wonderfully 
 made. Cocoa, which was nourishing, often took the 
 place of cofi'ee. In fact our systems craved just what 
 was most needed to build up muscle and create heat. 
 We found it was useless to try to catch fish after the 
 weather became cold. The fish would not bite. 
 
 On the upper end of our journey we carried no to- 
 bacco, as it happened that' Jimmy as well as ourselves 
 were not tobacco users. There were no alcoholic stimu- 
 lants. When Bert joined us, a small flask, for medicinal 
 purposes only, was taken along. The whiskey was 
 scarcely touched at this time. Bert enjoyed a pipe after 
 his meals, but continued to keep good-natured even 
 when his tobacco got wet, so tobacco was not absolutely 
 necessary to him. 
 
 Uninteresting and unromantic these things may be, 
 but they were most important to us. We were only 
 sorry the supply was not larger. While we never stinted 
 ourselves, or cut the allowance of food, the amount was 
 growing smaller every day, and it was not a question 
 any more whether we would go out or not, to get pro- 
 visions, to "rustle" as Bert called it, but where we would 
 go out. We might go up Cataract Creek or Ha Va Su 
 Creek, as it is sometimes called. We had been to the 
 mouth of this canyon on foot, so there would be no dan- 
 
246 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 ger of missing it. The Ha Va Supai Indians, about two 
 hundred in number, lived in this lateral canyon, about 
 seven or eight miles from the river. An agent and a 
 farmer lived with them, and might be able to sell us some 
 provisions ; if not, it would be fifty miles back to our 
 home. The trail was much more direct than the river. 
 The great drawback to this course was the fact that Ha 
 Va Su Canyon, sheer-walled, deep, and narrow, contained 
 a number of waterfalls, one of them about 175 feet high. 
 The precipice over which it fell was nothing but a mineral 
 deposit from the water, building higher every year. 
 Formerly this was impassable, until some miners, after 
 enlarging a sloping cave, had cut a winding stairway in 
 it, which allowed a descent to be made to the bottom of 
 the fall. A recent storm had remodelled all the falls in 
 Cataract Creek Canyon, cutting out the travertine in 
 some places, piling it up in others. A great mass of 
 Cottonwood trees were also mixed with the debris. The 
 village, too, had been washed away and was then being 
 rebuilt. We had been told that the tunnel was filled up, 
 and as far as we knew no one had been to the river since 
 the flood. 
 
 The other outlet was Diamond Creek Canyon, much 
 farther down the river. We would decide when we got 
 to Ha Va Su just what we would do. 
 
 Tapeets Creek, one mile below our camp, — a stream 
 which has masqueraded under the title of Thunder 
 
PULLING CLEAR OF A ROCK. 
 
 CuiiyriylU by KuUj tiros. 
 
 Copyright by Kolb Bros. 
 
 A SHOWER BATH. 
 
WHAT CHRISTMAS EVE BROUGHT 247 
 
 River, and about which there has been considerable 
 speculation, — proved to be a stream a little smaller than 
 Bright Angel Creek, flowing through a narrow slot in 
 the rocks, and did not fall sheer into the river, as has 
 been reported. Perhaps a small cascade known as Sur- 
 prise Falls which we passed the next day has been con- 
 fused with Tapeets Creek. This stream corkscrews down 
 through a narrow crevice and falls about two hundred 
 feet, close to the river's edge. We are told that the upper 
 end of Tapeets Creek is similar to this, but on a much 
 larger scale. 
 
 Just opposite this fall a big mountain-sheep jumped 
 from under an overhanging ledge close to the water, and 
 stared curiously at us, as though he wondered what 
 strange things those were coming down with the current. 
 It is doubtful if he ever saw a human being before. This 
 sight sent us scrambling in our cases for cameras and 
 firearms ; and it was not the game laws, but a rusted 
 trigger on the six-shooter instead, that saved the sheep. 
 He finally took alarm and scampered away over the rocks, 
 and we had no mutton stew that night. 
 
 We had one night of heavy rain, and morning revealed 
 a little snow within three hundred feet of the river, while 
 a heavy white blanket covered the upper cliff's. It con- 
 tinued to snow on top, and rained on us nearly all this 
 day. Emery took this opportunity to get the drop of 
 moisture out of the lens, and put the camera in such shape 
 
248 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 that we could proceed with our picture making. A 
 short run was made after this work was completed. 
 
 The camp we were just leaving was about three miles 
 above Kanab Canyon. The granite was behind us, 
 disappearing with a steep descent much as it had emerged 
 at the Hance Trail. There was also a small deposit of 
 algonkian. This too had been passed, and we were back 
 in the limestone and sandstone walls similar to the lower 
 end of Marble Canyon. While the formations were the 
 same, the canyon differed. The layers were thicker, 
 the red sandstone and the marble walls were equally 
 sheer; there was no plateau between. What plateau 
 this canyon contained lay on top of the red sandstone. 
 Few peaks rose above this. The canyon had completed 
 its northern run and was turning back again to the west- 
 southwest with a great sweep or circle. Less than an 
 hour's work brought us to Kanab Canyon. 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 SHORT OF PROVISIONS IN A SUNLESS GORGE 
 
 In the mud at Kanab Canyon we saw an old foot- 
 print of some person who had come down to the river 
 through this narrow, gloomy gorge. It was here that 
 Major Powell terminated his second voyage, on account 
 of extreme high water. A picture they made showed 
 their boats floated up in this side canyon. Our stage 
 was much lower than this. F. S. Dellenbaugh, the 
 author of ''A Canyon Voyage," was a member of this 
 second expedition. This book had been our guide down 
 to this point ; we could not have asked for a better 
 one. Below here we had a general idea of the nature of 
 the river, and had a set of the government maps, but we 
 had neglected to provide ourselves with detailed infor- 
 mation such as this volume gave us. 
 
 Evening of the following day found us at Cataract 
 
 Creek Canyon, but with a stage of water in the river 
 
 nearly fifty feet lower than that which we had seen a 
 
 few years before. The narrow entrance of this great 
 
 canyon gives no hint of what it is like a few miles above. 
 
 249 
 
2 so THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 The Indian village is in the bottom of a 3000-foot 
 canyon, half a mile wide and three miles long, covered 
 with fertile fields, peach and apricot orchards. It even 
 contained a few fig trees. Below the village the canyon 
 narrowed to a hundred yards, with a level bottom, cov- 
 ered with a tangle of wild grape vines, cactus, and 
 Cottonwood trees. This section contained the two larg- 
 est falls, and came to an end about four miles below the 
 first fall. Then the canyon narrowed, deep and gloomy, 
 until there was little room for anything but the powerful, 
 rapidly descending stream. At the lower end it was often 
 waist deep and fifteen or twenty feet wide. It was no 
 easy task to go through this gorge. The stream had to 
 be crossed several times. The canyon terminated in an 
 extremely narrow gorge 2500 feet deep, dark and gloomy, 
 one of the most impressive gorges we have ever seen. The 
 main canyon was similar, with a few breaks on the sides, 
 those breaks being ledges, or narrow sloping benches that 
 would extend for miles, only to be brought to an abrupt 
 end by side canyons. There are many mountain-sheep 
 in this section, but we saw none either time. We could 
 see many fresh tracks where they had followed these 
 ledges around, and had gone up the narrow side canyon. 
 It was cold in the main canyon, and no doubt the sheep 
 could be found on the plateaus, which were more open, 
 and would get sun when the sun shone. This plateau 
 was 2500 feet above us. At the turn of the canyon we 
 
■^Itf. 
 
 
 GRAND CANYON AT MOUTH OF HA \A ^U lA.Wd.S. :\lhlilL.\l HIi.H WAIER. 
 NOTE FIGURE. FRONTISPIECE SHOWS SAME PLACE IN LOW WATER. 
 
SHORT OF PROVISIONS IN A SUNLESS GORGE 25 1 
 
 could see the other walls 2000 feet above that. The 
 rapids in the section just passed had been widely sep- 
 arated and compared well with those of Marble Canyon, 
 not the worst we had seen, but far from being tame. 
 There was plenty of shore room at each of these rapids. 
 Cactus of different species was now a feature of the 
 scenery. The ocotilla or candlewood with long, lash-like 
 stalks springing from a common centre — that cactus, 
 which, when dried, needs only a lighted match to set it 
 afire — flourishes in the rocky ledges. A species of small 
 barrel-cactus about the size of a man's head, with fluted 
 sides, or symmetrical vertical rows of small thorned lumps 
 converging at the top of the " nigger-head," as they are 
 sometimes called, grows in great numbers in crevices on 
 the walls. The delicate " pin cushion" gathered in 
 clusters of myriad small spiny balls. The prickly pear, 
 here in Ha Va Su Canyon, were not the starved, shrivelled, 
 mineral-tinted cactus such as we found at the beginning 
 of our trip. Instead they were green and flourishing, 
 with large fleshy leaves joining on to each other until 
 they rise to a height of three feet or more and cover large 
 patches of ground to the utter exclusion of all other 
 growth. What a display of yellow and red these desert 
 plants put forth when they are in bloom ! A previous 
 visit to Ha Va Su was made in the month of May when 
 every group of prickly pear was a riot of pure colour. All 
 this prolific growth is made possible by the extreme heat 
 
252 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 of the summer months aided in the case of those plants 
 and trees which flourish in the fertile soil of Ha Va Su 
 by the sub-irrigation and the spray from the fall. 
 
 After making an inventory of our provisions we 
 concluded not to try the tedious and uncertain trip up 
 Cataract Creek. With care and good fortune we would 
 have enough provisions to last us to Diamond Creek. 
 
 With our run the next day the inner gorge continued 
 to deepen, the walls drew closer together, so that we 
 now had a narrow gorge hemming us in with 3000-foot 
 walls from which there was no escape. They were about 
 a fourth of a mile apart at the top. A boat at the foot 
 of one of these walls was merely an atom. The total 
 depth of the canyon was close to 4500 feet. There is 
 nothing on earth to which this gorge can be compared. 
 Storm-clouds lowered into the chasm in the early morning. 
 The sky was overcast and threatening. We were travel- 
 ling directly west again, and no sunlight entered here, 
 even when the sun shone. The walls had lost their 
 brighter reds, and what colour they had was dark and 
 sombre, a dirty brown and dark green predominating. 
 The mythology of the ancients, with their Inferno and 
 their River Styx, could hardly conjure anything more 
 supernatural or impressive than this gloomy gorge. 
 
 There were a few bad rapids. One or two had no 
 shore, others had an inclination to run under one wall, 
 and had to be run very carefully. If we could not get 
 
SHORT OF PROVISIONS IN A SUNLESS GORGE 253 
 
 down alongside of a rapid, we could usually climb out on 
 the walls at the head of the rapid and look it over from 
 that vantage point. The one who climbed out would 
 signal directions to the others, who would run it at once, 
 and continue on to the next rapid. They would have its 
 course figured out when the last boat arrived. 
 
 One canyon entered from the left, level on the bottom, 
 and about one hundred feet wide ; it might be a means 
 of outlet from this canyon, but it is doubtful, for the 
 marble has a way of ending abruptly and dropping sheer, 
 with a polished surface that is impossible to climb. 
 
 New Year's Eve was spent in this section. The camp 
 was exceptionally good. A square-sided, oblong section 
 of rock about fifty feet long had fallen forward from the 
 base of the cliflF. This left a cave-like opening which was 
 closed at one end with our dark-room tent. High water 
 had placed a sandy floor, now thoroughly dry, in the 
 bottom. Under the circumstances we could hardly ask 
 for anything better. Of driftwood there was none, 
 and our camp-fires were made of mesquite which grew in 
 ledges in the rocks ; in one case gathered with a great 
 deal of labour on the shore opposite our camp, and ferried 
 across on our boats. If a suitable camp was found after 
 3.30 P.M., we kept it, rather than run the risk of not find- 
 ing another until after dark. 
 
 Another day, January i, 191 2, brought us to the end of 
 this gorge and into a wider and more open canyon, with 
 
254 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 the country above covered with volcanic peaks and 
 cinder cones. Blow-holes had broken through the can- 
 yon walls close to the top of the gorge, pouring streams of 
 lava down its sides, filling the bottom of the canyon with 
 several hundred feet of lava. This condition extended 
 down the canyon for twenty miles or more. Judging 
 by the amount of lava the eruption must have continued 
 for a great while. Could one imagine a more wonderful 
 sight — the turbulent stream checked by the fire flood 
 from above ! What explosions and rending of rocks 
 there must have been when the two elements met. The 
 river would be backed up for a hundred miles ! Each 
 would be shoved on from behind ! There was no escape ! 
 They must fight it out until one or the other conquered. 
 But the fire could not keep up forever, and, though tri- 
 umphant for a period, it finally succumbed, and the stream 
 proceeded to cut down to the original level. 
 
 Two miles below the first lava flow we saw what we 
 took to be smoke and hurried down wondering if we would 
 find a prospector or a cattle rustler. We agreed, if it was 
 the latter, to let them off if they would share with us. 
 But the smoke turned out to be warm springs, one of 
 them making quite a stream which fell twenty feet into 
 the river. Here in the river was a cataract, called Lava 
 Falls, so filled with jagged pieces of the black rock that 
 a portage was advisable. The weather had not moder- 
 ated any in the last week, and we were in the water a 
 
SHORT OF PROVISIONS IN A SUNLESS GORGE 255 
 
 great deal as we lifted and lined the boats over the rocks 
 at the edge of the rapids. We would work in the water 
 until numbed with the cold, then would go down to the 
 warm springs and thaw out for a while. This was a little 
 quicker than standing by the fire, but the relief was only- 
 temporary. This portage was finished the next morning. 
 
 Another portage was made this same day, and the 
 wide canyon where Major Powell found some Indian 
 gardens was passed in the afternoon. The Indians were 
 not at home when the Major called. His party felt 
 they were justified in helping themselves to some pump- 
 kins or squash, for their supplies were very low, and they 
 could not go out to a settlement — as we expected to do 
 in a day or two — and replenish them. 
 
 We found the fish would not bite, just as our friend, 
 the miner, had said, but we did succeed in landing a 
 fourteen-pound salmon, in one of the deep pools not many 
 miles from this point, and it was served up in steaks the 
 next day. If our method of securing the salmon was 
 unsportsmanlike, we excused ourselves for the methods 
 used, just as Major Powell justified his appropriation of 
 the Indians' squash. If that fish was ever needed, it 
 was then, and it was a most welcome addition to our 
 rapidly disappearing stock of provisions. We were only 
 sorry we had not taken more "bait." 
 
 The next day we did see a camp-fire, and on climbing 
 the shore, found a little old prospector, clad in tattered 
 
256 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 garments, sitting in a little dugout about five feet square, 
 which he had shovelled out of the sand. He had roofed 
 it with mesquite and an old blanket. A rapid, just below, 
 made so much noise that he did not hear us until we were 
 before his door. He looked at the rubber coats and the 
 life-preservers, then said, with a matter-of-fact drawl, 
 "Well, you fellows must have come by the river !" After 
 talking awhile he asked : 
 
 "What do you call yourselves ?" This question 
 would identify him as an old-time Westerner if we did 
 not already know it. At one time it was not considered 
 discreet to ask any one in these parts what their name 
 was, or where they were from. He gave us a great deal 
 of information about the country, and said that Diamond 
 Creek was about six miles below. He had come across 
 from Diamond Creek by a trail over a thousand foot 
 ridge, with a burro and a pack mule, a month before. 
 He had just been out near the top on the opposite side, 
 doing some assessment work on some copper claims, 
 crossing the river on a raft, and stated that on a previous 
 occasion he had been drawn over the rapid, but got out. 
 
 When he learned that we had come through Utah, he 
 stated that he belonged near Vernal, and had once been 
 upset in the upper canyons, about twenty years before. 
 He proved to be the Snyder of whom we had heard at 
 Linwood, and also from the Chews, who had given him a 
 horse so he could get out over the mountains. Yet here 
 
SHORT OF PROVISIONS IN A SUNLESS GORGE 257 
 
 he was, a thousand miles below, cheerful as a cricket, 
 and sure that a few months at the most would bring him 
 unlimited wealth. He asked us to "share his chuck" 
 with him, but we could see nothing but a very little flour, 
 and a little bacon, so pleaded haste and pushed on for 
 Diamond Creek. 
 
 The mouth of this canyon did not look unlike others 
 we had seen in this section, and one could easily pass it 
 without knowing that it ran back with a gentle slope for 
 twenty miles, and that a wagon road came down close 
 to the river. It contained a small, clear stream. The 
 original tourist camp in the Grand Canyon was located up 
 this canyon. We packed all our plates and films, ready 
 to take them out. The supplies left in the boats when 
 we went out the next morning were : 
 
 5 pounds of flour, partly wet and crusted. 
 
 2 pounds mildewed Cream of Wheat. 
 
 3 or 4 cans (rusty) of dried beef. 
 Less than one pound of sugar. 
 
 We carried a lunch out with us. This was running 
 a little too close for comfort. 
 
 The mouth of Diamond Creek Canyon was covered 
 with a growth of large mesquite trees. Cattle trails 
 wound through this thorny thicket down to the river's 
 edge. The trees thinned out a short distance back, and 
 the canyon widened as it receded from the river. A half 
 mile back from the river was the old slab building that 
 
258 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 had served as headquarters for the campers. Here the 
 canyon divided, one containing the small stream heading 
 in the high walls to the southeast ; while the other branch 
 ran directly south, heading near the railroad at the little 
 flag-station of Peach Springs, twenty-three miles distant. 
 It was flat-bottomed, growing wider and more valley- 
 like with every mile, but not especially interesting to 
 one who had seen the glory of all the canyons. Floods 
 had spoiled what had once been a very passable stage 
 road, dropping 4000 feet in twenty miles, down to the 
 very depths of the Grand Canyon. Some cattle, driven 
 down by the snows, were sunning themselves near the 
 building. Our appearance filled them with alarm, and 
 they "high tailed it" to use a cattle man's expression, 
 scampering up the rocky slopes. 
 
 A deer's track was seen in a snow-drift away from the 
 river. On the sloping walls in the more open sections of 
 this valley grew the stubby-thorned chaparral. The hack- 
 berry and the first specimens of the palo verde were found 
 in this vicinity. The mesquite trees seen at the mouth 
 of the canyon were real trees — about the size of a large 
 apple tree — not the small bushes we had seen at the 
 Little Colorado. All the growth was changing as we 
 neared the lower altitudes and the mouth of the Grand 
 Canyon, being that of the hot desert, which had found this 
 artery or avenue leading to the heart of the rocky pla- 
 teaus and had pushed its way into this foreign land. 
 
SHORT OF PROVISIONS IN A SUNLESS GORGE 259 
 
 Even the animal life of the desert has followed this 
 same road. Occasional Gila monsters, which are sup- 
 posed to belong to the hot desert close to the Mexico line, 
 have been found at Diamond Creek, and lizards of the 
 Mojave Desert have been seen as far north as the foot of 
 Bright Angel Trail. 
 
 But we saw little animal life at this time. There were 
 occasional otters disporting themselves near our boats, in 
 one instance unafraid, in another raising a gray-bearded 
 head near our boat with a startled look in his eyes. 
 Then he turned and began to swim on the surface until 
 our laughter caused him to dive. Tracks of the civet- 
 cat or the ring-tailed cat — that large-eyed and large-eared 
 animal, somewhat like a raccoon and much resembling a 
 weasel — were often seen along the shores. The gray fox, 
 the wild-cat, and the coyote, all natives of this land, kept 
 to the higher piiion-covered hills. The beaver seldom 
 penetrates into the deep canyons because of the lack of 
 vegetation, but is found in all sections in the open coun- 
 try from the headwaters to the delta in Mexico. 
 
 We went out by this canyon on January the 5th, and 
 returned Sunday, January the 8th, bringing enough pro- 
 visions to last us to the end of the big canyon. We im- 
 agined we would have no trouble getting what we needed 
 in the open country below that. We sent some telegrams 
 and received encouraging answers to them before re- 
 turning. With us were two brothers, John and Will 
 
26o THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 Nelson, cattle men who had given us a cattle man's 
 welcome when we arrived at Peach Springs. There was 
 no store at Peach Springs, and they supplied us with the 
 provisions that we brought back. They drove a wagon 
 for about half the distance, then the roads became im- 
 passable, so they unhitched and packed their bedding and 
 our provisions in to the river. The Nelsons were anxious 
 to see us run a rapid or two. 
 
 We found the nights to be just as cold on top as they 
 ever get in this section — a little below zero — although 
 the midday sun was warm enough to melt the snow and 
 make it slushy. I arrived at the river with my feet so 
 swollen that I had difficulty in walking, a condition 
 brought on by a previous freezing they had received, 
 being wet continually by the icy water in my boat — 
 which was leaking badly since we left Bright Angel — 
 and the walk out through the slush. I was glad there was 
 little walking to do when once at the river, and changed my 
 shoes for arctics, which were more roomy and less painful. 
 
 On the upper part of our trip there were occasional 
 days when Emery was not feeling his best, while I had 
 been most fortunate and had little complaint to make ; 
 now things seemed to be reversed. Emery, and Bert 
 too, were having the time of their lives, while I was 
 "getting mine" in no small doses. ^ 
 
 1 While Major Powell was making his second voyage of exploration, another 
 party was toiling up these canyons towing their boats from the precipitous shores. 
 
SWIFT WATER IN TAPEETS CKI'KK RAl'lli 
 
 ■> ^fO-'""-^ . . p. 1,-, i.^'- , V 
 
 t 
 
 ••^v^ 
 
 
 
 , . - ^^ 
 
 LAUZON, EQUIPPED WITH A LIFE PRESERVER ON A ROPE, ON GUARD 
 BELOW A RAPID. 
 
 IN THE LAST GRANITE GORGE. 
 
SHORT OF PROVISIONS IN A SUNLESS GORGE 261 
 
 We had always imagined that the Grand Canyon 
 lost its depth and impressiveness below Diamond Creek. 
 We were to learn our mistake. The colour was missing, 
 that was true, for the marble and sandstone walls were 
 brown, dirty, or colourless, with few of the pleasing tones 
 of the canyon found in the upper end. But it was still 
 the Grand Canyon. We were in the granite again — 
 granite just as deep as any we had seen above, it may 
 have been a little deeper, and in most cases it was very 
 sheer. There was very little plateau, the limestone and 
 sandstone rose above that, just as they had above 
 Kanab Canyon. The light-coloured walls could not be 
 seen. 
 
 Many of the rapids of this lower section were just as 
 
 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. 
 
262 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 bad as any we had gone over ; one or two have been con- 
 sidered worse by different parties. Two hours after 
 leaving the Nelsons we were halted by a rapid that made 
 us catch our breath. It was in two sections — the lower 
 one so full of jagged rocks that it meant a wrecked boat. 
 The upper part fell about twenty feet we should judge 
 and was bad enough. It was a question if we could 
 run this and keep from going over the lower part. If we 
 made a portage, our boats would have to be taken three 
 or four hundred feet up the side of the cliff. The rapid 
 was too strong to line a boat down. We concluded to 
 risk running the first part. Bert climbed to the head 
 of the second section of the rapid, where a projecting point 
 of granite narrowed the stream, and formed a quiet eddy 
 just above the foaming plunge. If we could keep out 
 of the centre and land here we would be safe. Our shoes 
 were removed, our trousers were rolled to our knees and 
 we removed our coats. If we had to swim there, we 
 were going to be prepared. The life-preservers were 
 well inflated, and tied ; then we made the plunge, Emery 
 taking the lead, I following close behind. Our plan was 
 to keep as near the shore as possible. Once I thought 
 it was all over when I saw the Edith pulled directly for a 
 rock in spite of all Emery could do to pull away. Nothing 
 but a rebounding wave saved him. I went through the 
 same experience. Several times we were threatened 
 with an upset, but we landed in safety. The portage 
 
SHORT OF PROVISIONS IN A SUNLESS GORGE 263 
 
 was short and easy. Flat granite rocks were covered 
 with a thin coat of ice. The boats were unloaded and 
 slid across, then dropped below the projecting rock. The 
 Defiance skidded less than two feet and struck a project- 
 ing knob of rock the size of a goose egg. It punctured the 
 side close to the stern, fortunately above the water line, 
 and the wood was not entirely broken away. 
 
 Two miles below this we found another bad one. 
 This was lined while Bert got supper up in a little sloping 
 canyon ; about as uncomfortable a camp as we had found. 
 Many of the rapids run the next day were violent. The 
 river seemed to be trying to make up for lost time. We 
 passed a canyon coming from the south containing two 
 streams, one clear, and one muddy. The narrowest 
 place we had seen on the river was a rapid run this day, 
 not over forty feet wide. Evening brought us to a rapid 
 with a lateral canyon coming in from each side, that on 
 the right containing a muddy stream. The walls were 
 sheer and jagged close to the rapid, with a break on the 
 rugged slopes here and there. A sloping rock in the 
 middle of the stream could be seen in the third section 
 of the rapid. This was Separation Rapid, the point 
 where the two Rowland brothers and Dunn parted com- 
 pany with Major Powell and his party. 
 
 From our camp at the left side we could easily figure 
 out a way to the upper plateau. Above that they would 
 have a difficult climb as far as we could tell. That they 
 
264 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 did reach the top is well known. They met a tragic 
 fate. The second day after getting out they were killed 
 by some Indians — the Shewits Utes — who had treated 
 them hospitably at first and provided them with some- 
 thing to eat. That night a visiting Indian brought a 
 tale of depredations committed by some miners against 
 another section of their tribe. These men were believed 
 to be the guilty parties, and they were ambushed the 
 next morning. Their fate remained a mystery for a 
 year ; then a Ute was seen with a watch belonging to one 
 of the men. Later a Mormon who had a great deal of 
 influence with the Indians got their story from them, 
 and reported to Major Powell what he had learned. It 
 was a deplorable and a tragic ending to what otherwise 
 was one of the most successful, daring, and momentous 
 explorations ever undertaken on this continent. 
 
 We find there is a current belief that it was cowardice 
 and fear of this one rapid that caused these men to sep- 
 arate from the party. The more one hears of this sep- 
 aration, the more it seems that it was a difference of 
 opinion on many matters, and not this one rapid, that 
 caused them to leave. These men had been trappers 
 and hunters, one might say pioneers, and one had been 
 with Major Powell before the river exploration. They 
 had gone through all the canyons, and had come through 
 this far without a fatality. They had seen a great many 
 rapids nearly as bad as this, and several that were worse. 
 
SHORT OF PROVISIONS IN A SUNLESS GORGE 265 
 
 if one could judge by its nature when we found it. They 
 were not being carried by others, but had charge of one 
 boat. They did smash one boat in Disaster Rapid in 
 Lodore Canyon, and at that time they claimed Major 
 Powell gave them the wrong signal. This caused some 
 feeling. 
 
 At the time of the split, the food question was a serious 
 one. There were short rations for a long time ; in fact 
 there was practically no food. After an observation, 
 Major Powell informed them that they were within forty- 
 five miles of the Virgin River, in a direct line. Much 
 of the country between the end of the canyon and the 
 Virgin River was open, a few Mormon settlements 
 could be found up the Virgin Valley. He offered them 
 half of the small stock of provisions, when they per- 
 sisted in leaving, but they refused to take any provisions 
 whatever, feeling sure that they could kill enough game 
 to subsist on. This one instance would seem to be 
 enough to clear them of the stigma of cowardice. The 
 country on top was covered with volcanic cinders. There 
 was little water to be found, and in many ways it was 
 just as inhospitable as the canyon. The cook had a 
 pan of biscuits, which he left on a rock for them, after 
 the men had helped the party lift the boats over the rocks 
 at the head of the rapid. After landing in safety around 
 a bend which hid them from sight, the boating party 
 fired their guns, hoping they would hear the report, and 
 
266 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 follow in the abandoned boat. It is doubtful if they 
 could hear the sound of the guns, above the roar of the 
 rapid. If they did, they paid no attention to it. The 
 younger Howland wished to remain with the party, but 
 threw his lot with his brother, when he withdrew. 
 
 While these men did not have the Major's deep scien- 
 tific interest in the successful completion of this explora- 
 tion, they undoubtedly should have stayed with their 
 leader, if their services were needed or desired. It is more 
 than likely that they were insubordinate ; they certainly 
 made a misguided attempt, but in spite of these facts it 
 scarcely seems just to brand them as cowards. Two 
 days after they left, the boating party was camped at the 
 end of the canyons. 
 
CAPTAIN BURRO: A HA VA SUPAI. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 THE LAST PORTAGE AND THE LAST RAPIDS 
 
 The first section of Separation Rapid was run the 
 first thing in the morning, a mancjeuvre that was accom- 
 plished by starting on the left shore and crossing the 
 swift centre clear to the other shore. This allowed us to 
 reach some quiet water near a small deposit of rock and 
 earth at the base of the sheer wall. Two feet of water 
 would have covered this deposit; likewise two feet of 
 water would have given us a clear channel over this 
 second section. As it was, the rapid was rough, with many 
 rocks very near the surface. Directly across from us, 
 close to the left shore, was what looked like a ten-foot 
 geyser, or fountain of water. This was caused by a rock 
 in the path of a strong current rebounding from the shore. 
 The water ran up on the side near the wall, then fell on 
 all sides. It was seldom the water had force enough to 
 carry to the top of a rock as large as that. This portage 
 of the second section was one of the easiest we had made. 
 By rolling a few large rocks around we could get a stream 
 
 of water across our small shore large enough to float an 
 
 267 
 
268 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 empty boat with a little help, so we lightened them of the 
 cargo and floated them through our canal. While run- 
 ning the third section the Edith was carried up on the 
 sloping rock in the middle of the stream ; she paused a 
 moment, then came down like a shot and whirled around 
 to the side without mishap. This made the thirteenth 
 rapid in which both boats were lined or portaged. In 
 three other rapids one boat was run through and one was 
 portaged. Half of all these rapids were located in the 
 Grand Canyon. 
 
 All this time we were anxiously looking forward to a 
 rapid which Mr. Stone had described as being the worst in 
 the entire series, also the last rapid we would be likely to port- 
 age and had informed us that below this particular rapid 
 everything could be run with little or no inspection. Nat- 
 urally we were anxious to get that rapid behind us. It was 
 described as being located below a small stream flowing 
 from the south. The same rapid was described by Major 
 Powell as having a bold, lava-capped escarpment at the 
 head of the rapid, on the right. We had not seen any 
 lava since leaving Diamond Creek, and an entry in my 
 notes reads, "we have gone over Stone's 'big rapid' three 
 times and it is still ahead of us." The knowledge that 
 there was a big rapid in the indefinite somewhere that 
 was likely to cause us trouble seemed to give us more 
 anxious moments than the many unmentioned rapids 
 we were finding all this time. We wondered how high 
 
THE LAST PORTAGE AND THE LAST RAPIDS 269 
 
 the escarpment was, and if we could take our boats over 
 its top. We tried to convince ourselves that it was 
 behind us, although sure that it could not be. But the 
 absence of lava puzzled us. After one "bad" rapid and 
 several "good" rapids we came to a sharp turn in the 
 canyon. Emery was ahead and called back, "I see a 
 little stream"; Bert joined with "I see the lava"; and 
 the "Bold Escarpment Rapid," as we had been calling 
 it for some time, was before us. It was more than a nasty 
 rapid, it was a cataract ! 
 
 What a din that water sent up ! We had to yell to 
 make ourselves heard. The air vibrated with the im- 
 pact of water against rock. The rapid was nearly half a 
 mile long. There were two sections near its head stag- 
 gered with great rocks, forty of them, just above or 
 slightly submerged under the surface of the water. Our 
 low stage of water helped us, so that we did not have to 
 line the boats from the ledge, eighty feet above the water, 
 as others had done. The rapid broke just below the 
 lower end of the sheer rock, which extended twenty feet 
 beyond the irregular shore. The Edith went first, headed 
 upstream, at a slight angle nearly touching the wall, 
 dropping a few inches between each restraining stroke of 
 the oars. Bert crouched on the bow, ready to spring 
 with the rope, as soon as Emery passed the wall and 
 headed her in below the wall. Jumping to the shore, he 
 took a snub around a boulder and kept her from being 
 
270 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 dragged into the rapid. Then they both caught the 
 Defiance as she swung in below the rock, and half the 
 battle was won before we tackled the rapid. 
 
 Our days were short, and we did not take the boats 
 down until the next day ; but we did carry much of the 
 camp material and cargo halfway down over ledges a 
 hundred feet above the river. For a bad rapid we were 
 very fortunate in getting past it as easily as we did. Logs 
 were laid over rocks, the boats were skidded over them 
 about their own length and dropped in again. Logs 
 and boats were lined down in the swift, but less riotous 
 water, to the next barrier, which was more difficult. A 
 ten-foot rounded boulder lay close to the shore, with 
 smaller rocks, smooth and ice-filmed, scattered between. 
 Powerful currents swirled between these rocks and dis- 
 appeared under two others, wedged closely together on 
 top. Three times the logs were snatched from our grasp 
 as we tried to bridge them across this current, and they 
 vanished in the foam, to shoot out end first, twenty feet 
 below and race away on the' leaping water. A boat 
 would be smashed to kindling-wood if once carried under 
 there. At last we got our logs wedged, and an hour of 
 tugging, in which only two men could take part at 
 the same time, landed both boats in safety below this 
 barrier. We shot the remainder of the rapid on water 
 so swift that the oars were snatched from our hands if 
 we tried to do more than keep the boats straight 
 
H. LAUZON. E. L. KOLB. Copunyhl by Kulb Bru),. 
 THE LAST PORTAGE. THE ROCKS WERE ICE-FILMED. NOTE POTHOLES. 
 
THE LAST PORTAGE AND THE LAST RAPIDS 271 
 
 with the current. That rapid was no longer the "Bold 
 Escarpment," but the "Last Portage" instead, and it 
 was behind us. 
 
 The afternoon was half gone when we made ready 
 to pull away from the Last Portage. There were other 
 rapids, but scarcely a pause was made in our two-hour run, 
 and we camped away from the roar of water. The 
 canyon was widening out a little at a time ; the granite 
 disappeared in the following day's run, at noon. Grass- 
 covered slopes, with seeping mineral springs, took the 
 place of precipitous walls ; they dropped to 2500 feet 
 in height ; numerous side canyons cut the walls in regu- 
 lar sections like gigantic city blocks, instead of an un- 
 broken avenue. Small rapids continued to appear, 
 there were a few small islands, and divided currents, so 
 shallow they sometimes kept us guessing which one to 
 take, but we continued to run them all without a pause. 
 We would have run out of the canyon that day but for 
 one thing. Five mountain-sheep were seen from our 
 boats in one of the sloping grassy meadows above the 
 river. We landed below, carried our cameras back, and 
 spent half an hour in trying to see them again, but they 
 had taken alarm. 
 
 Placer claim locations and fresh burro tracks were 
 seen in the sand at our last Grand Canyon camp, and a 
 half mile below us we could see out into open country. 
 We found the walls, or the end of the table-land, to be 
 
272 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 about two thousand feet high, with the canyon emerging 
 at a sharp angle so that a narrow ridge, or "hogs-back," 
 lay on the left side of the stream. Once out in the open, 
 the walls were seen to be quite steep, but could be climbed 
 to the top almost any place without trouble. Saturday, 
 January the 13th, we were out of the canyon at last, and 
 the towering walls, now friendly, now menacing, were 
 behind us. Three hundred and sixty-five large rapids, 
 and nearly twice as many small rapids, were behind us 
 and the dream of ten years was an accomplished fact. 
 But best of all, there were no tragedies or fatalities to 
 record. Perhaps we did look a little the worse for wear, 
 but a few days away from the river would repair all that. 
 The boats had a bump here and there, besides the one 
 big patch on the Edith; a little mending and a little 
 caulking would put both the Edith and Defiance in first- 
 class condition. 
 
 There is little of interest to record of our 175-mile 
 run to Needles, California. It was a land of desolation 
 — an extension of the Mojave Desert on the south, and 
 the alkaline flats and mineral mountains of Nevada on the 
 north, of Death Valley and the Funeral Mountains of Califor- 
 nia to the northwest — a burned-out land of grim-looking 
 mountains extending north and south across our way ; a 
 dried-out, washed-out, and wind-swept land of extensive 
 flats and arroyos ; a land of rock and gravel cemented in 
 marls and clay ; ungraced with any but the desert plants, — 
 
THE LAST PORTAGE AND THE LAST RAPIDS 273 
 
 cactus and thorny shrubs, — with little that was pleasing 
 or attractive. A desert land it is true, but needing only 
 the magic touch of water to transform much of it into a 
 garden spot. Even as it was, a few months later it 
 would be covered with the flaming blossoms of the desert 
 growth, which seem to try to make amends in one or 
 two short months for nearly a year of desolation. 
 
 A wash ran along the base of the plateau from which 
 we had emerged. An abandoned road and ferry showed 
 that this had once been a well-travelled route. The 
 stream had a good current and we pulled away, only 
 stopping once to see the last of our plateau before a turn 
 and deepening banks hid it from view. We wondered 
 if the water ever dropped in a precipitous fall over the 
 face of the wall and worked back, a little every year, as 
 it does at Niagara. We could hardly doubt that there 
 were some such falls back in the dim past when these 
 canyons were being carved. 
 
 In the middle of the afternoon we passed a ranch or 
 a house with a little garden, occupied by two miners, 
 who hailed us from the shore. A half-mile below was the 
 Scanlon Ferry, a binding tie between Arizona, on the 
 south and what was now Nevada, on the north, for we 
 had reached the boundary line shortly after emerging 
 from the canyon. We still travelled nearly directly west. 
 The ferry was in charge of a Cornishman who also had 
 as pretty a little ranch as one could expect to find in 
 
274 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 such an unlikely place. A purling stream of water, 
 piped from somewhere up in the hills, had caused the 
 transformation. The ranch was very homey with cattle 
 and horses, sheep and hogs, dogs and cats, all sleek and 
 contented-looking. The garden proved that this country 
 had a warm climate, although we were not suffering from 
 heat at that time. An effort was being made to grow 
 some orange trees, but with little promise of success ; 
 there were fig trees and date-palms, with frozen dates 
 hanging on the branches, one effect of the coldest winter 
 they had seen in this section. 
 
 The rancher told us he could not sell us anything that 
 had to be brought in, for it was seventy miles to the 
 railroad, but we could look over such supplies as he had. 
 It ended by his selling us a chicken, two dozen eggs, 
 five pounds of honey, and ten pounds of flour, — all for 
 ^2.50. We did not leave until the next morning, then 
 bought another jar of honey, for we had no sugar, and two- 
 thirds of the first jar was eaten before we left the ferry. 
 
 We pulled away in such a hurry the next morning 
 that we forgot an axe that had been carried with us for 
 the entire journey. A five-hour! run brought us to the 
 mouth of the Virgin River, a sand-bar a mile wide, and 
 with a red-coloured stream little larger than Cataract 
 Creek winding through it. We had once seen this stream 
 near its head waters, a beautiful mountain creek, that 
 seemed to bear no relation to this repulsive-looking stream 
 
t"^ , ■■ '^^^ 
 
 MuuNh\ i-.vLLS: HA VA SU CANYON. 
 
THE LAST PORTAGE AND THE LAST RAPIDS 275 
 
 that entered from the north. A large, flat-topped, adobe 
 building, apparently deserted, stood ofi" at one side of the 
 stream. This was the head of navigation for flat- 
 bottomed steamboats that once plied between here 
 and the towns on the lower end of the river. They 
 carried supplies for small mines scattered through the 
 mountains and took out cargoes of ore, and of rock salt 
 which was mined back in Nevada. 
 
 It was here at the Virgin River that Major Powell 
 concluded his original voyage of exploration. Some of 
 his men took the boats on down to Fort Mojave, a few 
 miles above Needles ; afterwards two of the party con- 
 tinued on to the Gulf. The country below the Vir- 
 gin River had been explored by several parties, but pre- 
 vious to this time nothing definite was known of the 
 gorges until this exploration by this most remarkable 
 man. The difficulties of this hazardous trip were in- 
 creased for him by the fact that he had lost an arm in 
 the Civil War. 
 
 It is usually taken for granted that the United States 
 government was back of this exploration. This was 
 true of the second expedition, but not of the first. Major 
 Powell was aided to a certain extent by the State College 
 of Illinois, otherwise he bore all the expense himself. 
 He received ^10,000 from the government to apply on 
 the expenses of the second trip. 
 
 We felt that we had some reason to feel a justifiable 
 
2/6 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 pride for having duplicated, in some ways, this arduous 
 journey. It was impossible for us to do more than guess 
 what must have been the feelings and anxieties of this 
 explorer. Added to the fact that we had boats, tested 
 and constructed to meet the requirements of the river, 
 and the benefit of others' experiences, was a knowledge 
 that we were not likely to be precipitated over a waterfall, 
 or if we lost everything and succeeded in climbing out, 
 that there were a few ranches and distant settlements 
 scattered through the country. 
 
 But we had traversed the same river and the same 
 canyons which change but little from year to year, and 
 had succeeded beyond our fondest hopes in having ac- 
 complished what we set out to do. 
 
 The Black Mountains, dark and forbidding, composed 
 of a hard rock which gave a metallic clink, and deco- 
 rated with large spots of white, yellow, vermilion, and 
 purple deposits of volcanic ashes, were entered this af- 
 ternoon. The peaks were about a thousand feet high. 
 The passage between is known as Boulder Canyon. 
 Here we met two miners at work on a tunnel, or drift, 
 who informed us that it was about forty miles to Las 
 Vegas, Nevada, and that it was only twenty-five miles 
 from the mouth of Las Vegas Wash, farther down the 
 river, to this same town and the railroad. 
 
 Fort Callville — an abandoned rock building, con- 
 structed by the directions of Brigham Young, without 
 
THE LAST PORTAGE AND THE LAST RAPIDS 277 
 
 windows or roof, and surrounded by stone corrals — • 
 was passed the next day. At Las Vegas Wash the river 
 turned at right angles, going directly south, holding with 
 very little deviation to this general direction until it 
 empties into the Gulf of California nearly five hundred 
 miles away. The river seemed to be growing smaller 
 as we got out in the open country. Like all Western 
 rivers, when unprotected by canyons, it was sinking in 
 the sand. Sand-bars impeded our progress at such places 
 as the mouth of the Wash. But we had a good current, 
 without rapids in Black Canyon, which came shortly 
 below, and mile after mile was put behind us before we 
 camped for the night. 
 
 An old stamp-mill, closed for the time, but in charge 
 of three men who were making preparations to resume 
 work, was passed the next day. They had telephone 
 communication with Searchlight, Nevada, twenty odd 
 miles away, and we sent out some telegrams in that way. 
 
 More sand-bars were encountered the next day, and 
 ranches began to appear on both sides of the river. We 
 had difficulty on some of these bars. In places the river 
 bed was a mile wide, with stagnant pools above the sand, 
 and with one deep channel twisting between. At Fort 
 Mojave, now an Indian school and agency, we tele- 
 phoned to some friends in Needles, as we had promised 
 to do, telling them we would arrive about noon of the 
 following day. We made a mistake in not camping at 
 
278 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 the high ground by the "fort" that night, for just below 
 the river widened again and the channel turned out in 
 the centre. It was getting dark and we had entered this 
 before noticing which way it turned, and had a hard pull 
 back to the shore, for we had no desire to camp out there 
 in the quicksand. The shore was little more desirable. 
 It was a marsh, covered with a growth of flags and tules, 
 but with the ground frozen enough so that we did not sink. 
 Our last camp — No. 76 — was made in this marsh. 
 There we spent the night, hidden like hunted savages 
 in the cane-brake, while an Indian brass band played 
 some very good music for an officers' ball, less than half 
 a mile away. 
 
 We were up and away with the sun the next morn- 
 ing. On nearing Needles, a friend met us on the out- 
 skirts of the town and informed us that they had ar- 
 ranged what he called an official landing and reception. 
 At his request we deferred going down at once, but busied 
 ourselves instead at packing our cargo, ready for ship- 
 ping. Our friend had secured the services of a motion- 
 picture operator and our own camera was sent down to 
 make a picture of the landing, which was made as he had 
 arranged. 
 
 We landed in Needles January 18, 191 2 ; one month from 
 the time of our start from Bright Angel Trail, with a total 
 of one hundred and one days spent along the river. In 
 that time our camps had been changed seventy-six times. 
 
('opyriijkl by Kolb Bros. 
 WATCHING FOR THE SIGNAL FIRE. MRS. EMERY AND EDITH KOLB. 
 
THE LAST PORTAGE AND THE LAST RAPIDS 279 
 
 Our two boats, highly prized as souvenirs of our twelve 
 hundred mile trip, and which had carried us through 
 three hundred and sixty-five big rapids, over a total de- 
 scent of more than five thousand feet, were loaded on cars 
 ready for shipment ; the Edith to Los Angeles, the De- 
 fiance to the Grand Canyon. 
 
 Among other mail awaiting us was the following letter, 
 bearing the postmark of Hite, Utah : 
 
 " KoLB Bros., 
 *' Dear Friends : 
 
 "Well I got here at last after seventeen days in 
 Cataract Canyon. The old boat will stand a little quiet 
 water but will never go through another rapid. I cer- 
 tainly played * ring-a-round ' some of those rocks in 
 Cataract Canyon ; I tried every scheme I had ever 
 heard of, and some that were never thought of before. 
 At the last rapid in Cataract I carried all my stuff over 
 the cliff, then tried to line the boat from the narrow ledge. 
 The boat jerked me into the river, but I did not lose my 
 hold on the chain and climbed on board. I had no oars, 
 but managed to get through without striking any rocks, 
 and landed a mile and a half below the supplies. I hope 
 the * movies' are good.^ 
 
 " Sincerely yours, 
 
 "Chas. Smith." . 
 
 * SteiB appeiidiz, Hwtory of Cttarict Canyon. 
 
CONCLUSION. HOW I WENT TO MEXICO 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 ON THE CREST OF A FLOOD 
 
 A WESTWARD-BOUND train was bearing me across the 
 Mojave Desert one day in May. In a few swiftly passing 
 hours we had made a six-thousand foot descent from the 
 plateau with its fir and aspen-covered mountain, its cedar 
 and pinon-clothed foot-hills, and its extensive forests of 
 yellow pine. Crimson and yellow-flowered cactus, sage 
 and chaparral, succeeded the pines. The cool mountains 
 had given way to burned-out, umber-coloured hills, rock- 
 ribbed arroyos, and seemingly endless desert; and the 
 sun was growing hotter every minute. 
 
 If the heat continued to increase, I doubted if I would 
 care to take a half-planned Colorado River trip down 
 to the Gulf. Visions of the California beaches, of fishing 
 at Catalina and of horseback rides over the Sierra's trails, 
 nearly unsettled my determination to stop at Needles, 
 on the California side of the river. This was my vaca- 
 tion ! Why undergo all the discomfort of a voyage on 
 a desert stream, when the pleasures and comforts of the 
 Pacific beckoned } One thing was sure, if I was not 
 
 38e 
 
ON THE CREST OF A FLOOD 28 1 
 
 successful in securing a boat at Needles, the very next 
 train would find me on board, bound for the Western 
 Slope. By mid-afternoon the chaparral had disap- 
 peared and only the cactus remained — the ocotilla, 
 covered with a million flowers, wave upon wave of crim- 
 son flame, against the yellow earth. Violet-veiled moun- 
 tains appeared in the west, marking the southern trend 
 of the Colorado. The air was sufi"ocating. The train- 
 created wind was like a blast from a furnace ; yet with 
 the electric fans whirring, with blinds drawn and windows 
 closed to keep the withering air out, it seemed a little less 
 uncomfortable in the car, in spite of the unvitalized air, 
 than under the scorching sun. 
 
 We were beside the Colorado at last. I had a good 
 view of the stream below, as we crossed the bridge — 
 the Colorado in flood, muddy, turbulent, sweeping on- 
 ward like an aff'righted thing, — repulsive, yet with a 
 fascination for me, born of an intimate acquaintance 
 with the dangers of this stream. The river had called 
 again ! The heat was forgotten, the visions of the coast 
 faded, for me the train could not reach Needles, ten 
 miles up the river, quickly enough. 
 
 With my brother, I had followed this stream down 
 to Needles, through a thousand miles of canyon. I had 
 seen how it carved its way through the mountains, carry- 
 ing them on, in solution, toward the ocean. At last I 
 would see what became of all these misplaced mountains. 
 
282 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 I would see the tidal bore as it swept in from the Gulf. 
 I had heard there were wild hogs which burrowed through 
 the cane-brake. It may be that I would learn of a vessel 
 at some port down on the Mexican coast, which I might 
 reach and which would take me around the Lower Cali- 
 fornia Peninsula. I felt sure there was such a port. No 
 doubt I could have found books to tell me exactly what 
 I would see, but too much information would spoil all 
 the romance of such an adventure. It was all very 
 alluring. With the spring flood on, the river could not 
 help but be interesting and exciting, a pretty good imita- 
 tion of the rapids, perhaps. If I could only secure a boat ! 
 
 Half an hour later I was meeting old acquaintances 
 about the hotel, connected with the station. The genial 
 hotel manager, with the Irish name, was smilingly ex- 
 plaining to some newcomers that this was not hot ; that 
 "a dry heat at no degrees was not nearly as bad as 85 
 degrees back in Chicago," " and as for heat, " he continued, 
 "why down in Yuma" — then he caught sight of me, 
 with a grin on my face, and perhaps he remembered that 
 I had heard him say the same thing two years before, 
 when it was even hotter; and he came over with out- 
 stretched hand, — calling me uncomplimentary names, 
 under his breath, for spoiling the effect of his explanation ; 
 all which was belied by his welcome. It takes an Irish- 
 man to run a big hotel in the middle of the desert. 
 
 A few inquiries brought out the information that I 
 
TiiE ^i;.\..i:., t.uKuL, illlRlLEN HUNDRED FEET DEEP. NEAR BRIGHT ANGEL 
 
 TRAIL. 
 
ON THE CREST OF A FLOOD 283 
 
 was not likely to get a boat. The stores did not keep 
 them. I should have given my order two weeks before 
 to an Indian who built boats to order at $2.00 a foot. 
 This was a new one on me. Suppose a fellow wanted — 
 well, say, about $15.00 worth. It would look something 
 like a tub, wouldn't it ? Perhaps it was to be the coast, 
 for me, after all. 
 
 The Colorado River in flood is a terrible stream. 
 Unlike the Eastern rivers, there are no populous cities — 
 with apologies to Needles and Yuma — along its shores, 
 to be inundated with the floods. Unlike the rivers 
 of the South, few great agricultural districts spread 
 across its bottoms. Along the upper seven hundred 
 miles there are not a half-dozen ranches with twenty-five 
 acres under cultivation. But if destructive power and 
 untamed energy are terrible, the Colorado River, 
 in flood, is a terrible stream. 
 
 After changing into some comfortable clothes I 
 sauntered past the railway machine shops down to 
 the river, and up to where a fight was being waged to 
 save the upper part of the town from being torn away 
 by the flood. For a month past, car after car of rock 
 had been dumped along the river bank, only to disappear 
 in the quicksands ; and as yet no bottom had been 
 reached. Up to this point the fight was about equal. 
 The flood would not reach its crest until two or three 
 weeks later. 
 
284 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 Beyond a fisherman or two there were few men by 
 the river. The workmen had finished their day's labour. 
 A ferryman said that I might talk an Indian into selling 
 his boat, but it was doubtful. My next job was to find 
 such an Indian. 
 
 A big, greasy Mojave buck lay on an uncovered, rusty 
 bed spring, slung on a home-made frame, before his 
 willow and adobe home, close to the Colorado River. In 
 answer to my repeated question he uncoiled and stretched 
 the full length of his six foot six couch, grunted a few 
 words in his native tongue to other Indians without a 
 glance in my direction, then indifi"erently closed his eyes 
 again. A young Indian in semi-cowboy garb, — not 
 omitting a gorgeous silk handkerchief about his neck, — 
 jabbered awhile with some grinning squaws, then said in 
 perfectly understandable English, "He will sell his boat 
 for $18.00. It is worth $30.00." This was decisive for 
 an Indian. It usually takes a half-day of bickering to 
 get them to make any kind of a bargain. I told him I 
 would take it in the morning. 
 
 It was a well-constructed boat, almost new, built of 
 inch pine, flat-bottomed, and otherwise quite similar in 
 shape to the boats my brother and I had used on 
 our twelve hundred mile journey through the canyons 
 of the Green and Colorado rivers, — but without the 
 graceful lines and swells that made those other boats so 
 valuable to us in rapids. The boat was nearly new and 
 
ON THE CREST OF A FLOOD 285 
 
 well worth $30.00, as boat prices went in that town. 
 Why he was willing to sell it for $18.00, or at the rate 
 of $1.00 a foot, I could not imagine. It was the first 
 bargain an Indian had ever offered me. But if I paid 
 for it that evening, there were doubts in my mind if I 
 should find it in the morning, so I delayed closing the 
 bargain and went back again to inspect the boat. 
 
 That evening I inquired among my acquaintances if 
 there was any one who would care to accompany me. If 
 so I would give them passage to Yuma, or to the Gulf of 
 California in Mexico, if they wished it. But no one could 
 go, or those who could, wouldn't. One would have 
 thought from the stories with which I was regaled, that 
 the rapids of the Grand Canyon were below Needles, and 
 as for going to the Gulf, it was suicide. I was told of the 
 outlaws along the border, of the firearms and opium 
 smugglers, who shot first and questioned afterward, and 
 of the insurrectos of Lower California. The river had no 
 real outlet to the ocean, they said, since the break into 
 Salton Sea, but spread over a cane-brake, thirty miles or 
 more in width. Many people had gone into these swamps 
 and never returned, whether lost in the jungles or killed 
 by the Cocopah Indians, no one knew. They simply 
 disappeared. It was all very alluring. 
 
 My preparations, the next day, were few. I had in- 
 cluded a sleeping bag with my baggage. It would come 
 in equally handy whether I went down on the Colorado 
 
286 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 or up into the Coast Range. A frying-pan, a coffee-pot, 
 a few metal dishes and provisions for a week were all I 
 needed. Some one suggested some bent poles, and a 
 cover, such as are used on wagons to keep off the sun. 
 This seemed like a good idea ; and I hunted up a carpenter 
 who did odd jobs. He did not have such a one, but he 
 did have an old wagon-seat cover, which could be raised 
 or dropped at will. This was even better, for sometimes 
 hard winds sweep up the river. The cover was fastened 
 to the sides of the boat. The boat, meanwhile, had been 
 thoroughly scrubbed. It looked clean before, but I was 
 not going to take any chances at carrying Indian live- 
 stock along with his boat. My surplus baggage was sent 
 on to Los Angeles, and twenty-four hours after I had 
 landed in Needles, I was ready to embark. 
 
 My experience in camping trips of various sorts has 
 been that the start from headquarters occupies more time 
 than any similar preparation. Once on the road, things 
 naturally arrange themselves into some kind of a system, 
 and an hour on the road in the evening means several 
 hours gained the next morning. Added to this, there are 
 always a number of loafers about railroad towns, and 
 small things have a way of disappearing. With this 
 in mind, I determined to make my start that evening, 
 and at 7 p.m. on the 23d of May, 1913, I embarked on a 
 six to eight mile an hour current, paced by cottonwood 
 logs, carried down by the flood from the head waters in 
 Wyoming, Utah, and Colorado. 
 
ON THE CREST OF A FLOOD 287 
 
 When sailing on the unruffled current one did not 
 notice its swiftness — it sped so quietly yet at the same 
 time with such deadly intent — until some half sub- 
 merged Cottonwood snags appeared, their jagged, broken 
 limbs ploughing the stream exactly like the bow of a motor- 
 driven boat, throwing two diverging lines of waves far 
 down the stream. One would almost think the boat was 
 motionless, it raced so smoothly, — and that the snags 
 were tearing upstream as a river man had said, the day 
 before, "like a dog with a bone in his teeth." A sunken 
 stone-boat, with a cabin half submerged, seemed pro- 
 pelled by some unseen power and rapidly dwindled in 
 the distance. 
 
 So fascinating were these things that I forgot the 
 approaching night. I first noticed it when the stream 
 slackened its mad pace and spread over its banks into 
 great wide marshes, in divided and subdivided channels 
 and over submerged islands, with nothing but willow and 
 fuzzy cattail tops to indicate that there was a bottom 
 underneath. Here there was no place to camp had I 
 wished to do so. Once I missed the main channel and 
 had a difficult time in finding my way back in the dark. 
 After two or three miles of this quiet current, the streams 
 began to unite again, and the river regained its former 
 speed. I was growing weary after the first excitement, 
 and began to wish myself well out of it all and safely 
 anchored to the shore. But I knew there was a level 
 
288 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 bank above the river close to the bridge, which would 
 make a good camping place ; so I rested on my oars, 
 facing down the stream with eyes and ears alert for the 
 treacherous snags. Then the stars began to appear, 
 one by one, lighting up the cloudless sky ; a moist, tropi- 
 cal-like breeze moved up the stream, the channel narrowed 
 and deepened, the snags vanished, and the stream in- 
 creased its swiftness. 
 
 And with eyes wide open, but unseeing, I dozed. 
 
 It was the lights of a passenger train crossing the 
 bridge, just a short distance away, that made me realize 
 where I was. The train thundered into the darkness ; 
 but louder than the roar of the train was that of the 
 water directly ahead, and hidden in the impenetrable 
 shadow over on the right shore was a noise much like 
 that made by a Grand Canyon rapid. 
 
 Wide awake now, I pulled for the left, and after 
 one or two attempts to land, I caught some willow tops 
 and guided the boat to the raised bank. Beyond the 
 willows was a higher ground, covered with a mesquite 
 thicket, with cattle trails winding under the thorny 
 trees. Here I unrolled my sleeping bag, then went up to 
 interview the operator and the watchman, and to get a 
 drink of clear water, for I had no desire to drink the 
 liquid mud of the Colorado until it was necessary. In 
 answer to a question I told them of my little ride. One of 
 the men exclaimed, "You don't mean to say that you 
 
ON THE CREST OF A FLOOD 289 
 
 came down on the flood after dark !" On being informed 
 that I had just arrived, he exclaimed : "Well I reckon you 
 don't know what the Colorado is. It's a wonder this 
 whirlpool didn't break you against the pier. You ought 
 to have brought some one with you to see you drown !" 
 
CHAPTER XXV 
 
 FOUR DAYS TO YUMA 
 
 Before sunrise the following morning, I had com- 
 pleted my few camp duties, finished my breakfast, 
 and dropped my boat into the whirlpool above the bridge. 
 My two friends watched the manoeuvre as I pulled clear 
 of the logs and the piers which caused the water to 
 make such alarming sounds the night before ; then they 
 gave me a final word of caution, and the information 
 that the Parker Bridge was sixty miles away and that 
 Yuma was two hundred and fifty miles down the stream. 
 They thought that I should reach Yuma in a week. It 
 seemed but a few minutes until the bridge was a mile 
 up the stream. Now I was truly embarked for the 
 
 gulf. 
 
 By the time I had reached the spire-like mountainous 
 rocks a few miles below the bridge, which gave the town 
 of Needles its name, the sun was well up and I was begin- 
 ning to learn what desert heat was, although I had 
 little time to think of it as I was kept so busy with my 
 boat. Here, the stream which was spread a mile wide 
 
 290 
 
Copyrighl hy Kiilb Bros. 
 THE CORK SCREW: LOWER END OF BRIGHT ANGEL TRAIL. 
 
FOUR DAYS TO YUMA 291 
 
 above, had choked down to two hundred feet; small 
 violent whirlpools formed at the abrupt turns in this 
 so-called canyon and the water tore from side to side. 
 In one whirl my boat was twice carried around the circle 
 into which I had allowed it to be caught, then shot out 
 on the pounding flood. Soon the slag-like mountains 
 were passed and the country began to spread, first in a 
 high barren land, then with a bottom land running back 
 from the river. The willow bushes changed to willow 
 trees, tall and spindly, crowded in a thicket down to the 
 river's edge. The Chemehuevi Indians have their res- 
 ervation here. On rounding an abrupt turn I surprised 
 two little naked children, fat as butterballs, dabbling 
 in a mud puddle close to the stream. The sight, coupled 
 with the tropical-like heat and the jungle, could well 
 make one imagine he was in Africa or India, and that the 
 little brown bodies were the "alligator bait" of which we 
 read. Only the 'gators were missing. The unexpected 
 sight of a boat and a white man trying to photograph 
 them started them both into a frightened squall. Then an 
 indignant mother appeared, staring at me as though she 
 would like to know what I had done to her offspring. 
 Farther along were other squaws, with red and blue lines 
 pencilled on their childlike, contented faces, seated under the 
 willows. Their cotton garments, of red and blue bandanna 
 handkerchiefs sewed together, added a gay bit of colour 
 to the scene. 
 
292 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 Below this were two or three cozy little ranch houses 
 and a few scattered cattle ranches, with cattle browsing 
 back in the trees. All this time it was getting hotter, and 
 I was thankful for my sheltering cover. My lunch, pre- 
 pared in the morning, was eaten as I drifted. Except in 
 a few quiet stretches I did little rowing, just enough 
 to keep the boat away from the overhanging banks and 
 in the strong current. 
 
 The bottom lands began to build up again with banks 
 of gravel and clay, growing higher with every mile. 
 The deciduous trees gave way to the desert growths : 
 the choUa, "the shower of gold," and the palo verde and 
 the other acacias. Here were the California or valley- 
 quail ; and lean, long-legged jack-rabbits. Here too 
 were the coyotes, leaner than the rabbits, but efficient, 
 shifty-eyed, and insolent. One could admire but could 
 hardly respect them. 
 
 I had entertained hopes of reaching Parker that even- 
 ing, but supposed the hour would be late if I reached it 
 at all. Imagine my surprise, then, when at half-past four 
 I heard the whistle of a train, and another turn revealed 
 the Parker bridge. I had been told by others that it had 
 taken them three or four days to reach this point on a 
 low stage of water. Evidently the high water is much 
 better for rapid and interesting travel. 
 
 Here at the bridge, which was a hundred feet above the 
 river, was a dredge, and an old flat-bottomed steamboat, 
 
FOUR DAYS TO YUMA 293 
 
 a relic of a few years past, before the government built 
 the Laguna dam above Yuma, and condemned the 
 Colorado as a navigable stream. Those were the days 
 which the Colorado steamboat men recall with as much 
 fond remembrance as the old-time boatmen of the Missis- 
 sippi remember their palmy days. 
 
 In spite of the fact that the boats were flat-bottomed 
 and small, it was real steamboating of an exciting nature 
 at least. At times they beat up against the current as 
 far as the mouth of the Rio Virgin. In low water the 
 channels shifted back and forth first choked with sand on 
 one side of the stream, then on the other. While the 
 total fall from Fort Mojave, a few miles above Needles, 
 to the Gulf is only 525 feet, considerable of that fall 
 came in short sections, first with a swift descent, then in a 
 quiet stretch. Even in the high-water stage I was finding 
 some such places. 
 
 Parker stood a mile back from the river, on top of the 
 level gravelly earth which stretched for miles on either 
 side of the river clear to the mountains. This earth 
 and gravel mixture was so firmly packed that even the 
 cactus had a scant foothold. The town interested me 
 for one reason only, this being, that I could get my meals 
 for the evening and the following morning, instead of 
 having to cook them myself. After I had eaten them, 
 however, there was a question in my mind if my own cook- 
 ing, bad as it was, would not have answered the purpose 
 
294 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 just as well. The place was a new railroad town on an 
 Indian reservation, a town of great expectations, some- 
 what deferred. 
 
 It was not as interesting to me as my next stop at 
 Ahrenburg, some fifty miles below Parker. This place, 
 while nothing but a collection of dilapidated adobe 
 buildings, had an air of romance about it which was 
 missing in the newer town. Ahrenburg had seen its day. 
 Many years ago it was a busy mining camp, and the hope 
 is entertained by the faithful who still reside in its pictur- 
 esque adobe homes that it will come back with renewed 
 vigour. Here at Ahrenburg I met a character who added 
 greatly to the interest of my stay. He was a gigantic, 
 raw-boned Frenchman, at that time engaged in the 
 construction of a motor boat ; but a miner, a sailor, and 
 a soldier of fortune in many ways, one who had pried into 
 many of the hidden corners of the country and had a 
 graphic way of describing what he had seen. I was his 
 guest until late that night, and was entertained royally 
 on what humble fare he had to offer. We both intended 
 to renew our acquaintance in the morning, but some 
 prowling Mexicans near my boat, croaking frogs, and 
 swarms of mosquitos gave me a restless night. With the 
 first glimmer of daylight I was up, and half an hour later 
 I was away on the flood. 
 
 This was my big day. The current was better than 
 much of that above ; I was getting used to the heat, and, 
 
FOUR DAYS TO YUMA 
 
 295 
 
 instead of idly drifting, I pulled steadily at the oars. 
 The river twisted back and forth in great loops with the 
 strong current, as is usual, always on the outside of the 
 loops, close to the overhanging banks. I would keep 
 my boat in this current, with a wary lookout over my 
 shoulder for fallen trees and sudden turns, which had 
 a way of appearing when least expected. At some such 
 places the stream was engaged at undermining the banks 
 which rose eight and ten feet above the water. Occasional 
 sections, containing tons of earth and covered with tall, 
 slender willow trees, would topple over, falling on the 
 water with the roar of a cannon or a continued salute of 
 cannons ; for the falling, once started, quite often extended 
 for half a mile down the stream. At one such place 
 eighteen trees fell in three minutes, and it would be safe 
 to say that a hundred trees were included in the extended 
 fall. The trees, sixty feet high, resembled a field of 
 gigantic grass or unripened grain ; the river was a reaper, 
 cutting it away at the roots. Over they tumbled to be 
 buried in the stream ; the water would swirl and boil, 
 earth and trees would disappear ; then the mass of leaf- 
 covered timber, freed of the earth, would wash away to 
 lodge on the first sand-bar, and the formation of a new 
 island or a new shore would begin. 
 
 Then again, the banks were barren, composed of 
 gravel and clay, centuries older than the verdure-covered 
 land, undisturbed, possibly, since some glacial period de- 
 
296 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 posited it there. But a shifting of the channel directed 
 the attack against these banks. Here the swift current 
 would find a little irregularity on the surface and would 
 begin its cutting. The sand-laden water bored exactly 
 like an auger, in fast-cutting whirls. One such place I 
 watched for a half-hour from the very beginning, until 
 the undermined section, fourteen feet high, began to 
 topple, and I pulled out to safety, but not far enough to 
 escape a ducking in the resulting wave. 
 
 Below this, instead of a firm earth, it was a loose sand 
 and gravel mixture twenty feet above the river. Here 
 for half a mile the entire bank was moving, slowly at 
 the top, gathering speed at the bottom. While close to 
 this I heard a peculiar hissing as of carbonated water 
 all about me. At first I thought there were mineral 
 springs underneath, but found the noise was caused by 
 breaking air bubbles carried under the stream with 
 the sands. All this day such phenomena continued, 
 sliding sand-banks and tumbling jungles. In these 
 latter places some cattle had suffered. Their trails 
 ran parallel with the stream. No doubt they had one or 
 two places where they drank cut down to the stream. 
 Knowing nothing of the cutting underneath, they had 
 been precipitated into the flood, and now their carcasses 
 were food for swarms of vultures gathered for an unholy 
 feast. 
 
 What powerful, graceful birds these scavengers are, 
 
FOUR DAYS TO YUMA 297 
 
 Stronger than the eagle even, tireless and seemingly 
 motionless as they drift along searching every nook and 
 cranny for their provender ! But aside from a grudgingly 
 given tribute of admiration for their power, one has 
 about as much respect for them as for the equally graceful 
 rattlesnake, that other product of nature which flourishes 
 in this desert land. 
 
 The bird life along this lower part of the river was 
 wonderful in its variety. The birds of the desert mingled 
 with those of the fertile lands. The song-birds vied with 
 those of gorgeous plume. Water-birds disported them- 
 selves in the mud-banks and sloughs. The smaller birds 
 seemed to pay little attention to the nearness of the 
 hawks. Kingfisher perched on limbs overhanging the 
 quiet pools, ready to drop at the faintest movement on 
 the opaque water; the road-runner chased the festive 
 lizard on the desert land back of the willows. Here 
 also in the mesquite and giant cactus were thrush and 
 Western meadow-larks and mocking-birds mimicking the 
 call of the cat-bird. Down in the brush by the river was . 
 the happy little water-ousel, as cheerful in his way as 
 the dumpy-built musical canyon wren. The Mexican 
 crossbill appeared to have little fear of the migrating 
 Northern shrike. There were warblers, cardinals, tan- 
 agers, waxwings, song-sparrows, and chickadees. Flitting 
 droves of bush-tit dropped on to slender weeds, scarcely 
 bending them, so light were they. Then in a minute 
 
298 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 they were gone. In the swamps or marshes were count- 
 less red-winged blackbirds. 
 
 The most unobservant person could not help but see 
 birds here. I had expected to find water-fowl, for the 
 Colorado delta is their breeding place; but I little ex- 
 pected to find so many land birds in the trees along the 
 river. Instead of having a lonesome trip, every minute 
 was filled with something new, interesting, and beautiful, 
 and I was having the time of my life. 
 
 I camped that night at Picachio, — meaning the 
 Pocket, — eighty miles below Ahrenburg. This is still 
 a mining district, but the pockets containing nuggets 
 of gold which gave the place its name seem to have all 
 been discovered at the time of the boom ; the mining now 
 done is in quartz ledges up on the sides of grim, mineral- 
 stained hills. I was back in the land of rock again, a 
 land showing the forces of nature in high points of foreign 
 rock, shot up from beneath, penetrating the crust of the 
 earth and in a few places emerging for a height of two 
 hundred feet from the river itself, forming barren islands 
 and great circling whirlpools, as large as that in the 
 Niagara gorge, and I thought, for a while, almost as 
 powerful. In one I attempted to keep to the short side 
 of the river, but found it a difficult job, and one which 
 took three times as long to accomplish as if I had allowed 
 myself to be carried around the circle. 
 
 Then the land became level again, and the Chocolate 
 
Copi/right by Kolb Bros. 
 ZOROASTER TEMPLE: FROM THE END OF BRIGHT ANGEL TRAIL. 
 
FOUR DAYS TO YUMA 299 
 
 Mountains were seen to the west. A hard wind blew 
 across the stream, so that I had to drop my sunshade to 
 prevent being carried against the rocks. This day I 
 passed a large irrigation canal leading off from the stream, 
 the second such on the entire course of the Colorado. 
 Here a friendly ranchman called to me from the shore 
 and warned mc of the Laguna dam some distance below. 
 He said the water was backed up for three miles, so I 
 would know when I was approaching it. 
 
 In spite of this warning, I nearly came to grief at 
 the dam. The wind had shifted until it blew directly 
 down the stream. The river, nearly a mile wide, still 
 ran with a powerful current ; I ceased rowing and drifted 
 down, over waves much like those one would find on a 
 lake driven by a heavy wind. I saw some high poles 
 and a heavy electric cable stretched across the stream, 
 and concluded that this was the beginning of the dam. 
 I began to look ahead for some sign of a barrier across 
 the stream, far below, but I could see nothing of the 
 kind ; then as I neared the poles it suddenly dawned on 
 me that there was no raised barrier which diverted all 
 the water through a sluice, but a submerged dam, over 
 which the flood poured, and that the poles were on that 
 dam. 
 
 My sail-like sunshade was dropped as quickly as 
 I could do it, and, grabbing the oars, I began to pull for the 
 California shore. 
 
300 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 It was fortunate for me that I happened to be com- 
 paratively near the shore when I began rowing. As it 
 was, I landed below the diverting canal, and about a 
 hundred yards above the dam. On examination the 
 dam proved to be a slope about fifty feet long. A man 
 in charge of the machinery controlling the gates told 
 me that the dam lacked seven feet of being a mile wide, 
 and that approximately seven feet of water was going 
 over the entire dam. 
 
 Great cement blocks and rocks had been dropped 
 promiscuously below the dam to prevent it from being 
 undermined. Even without the rocks it was doubtful 
 if an uncovered boat could go through without upsetting. 
 The great force of the water made a trough four or five 
 feet lower than the river level, all water coming down 
 the slope shooting underneath, while the river rolled 
 back upstream. On two occasions boatmen had been 
 carried over the dam. In each case the boat was 
 wrecked, but the occupants were thrown out and escaped 
 uninjured. I could not help but be amused, and feel a 
 little uncomfortable too, when I saw how nearly I came 
 to being wrecked here, after having escaped that fate in 
 the rapids of the canyons. 
 
 I ran my boat back to the diverting canal, then rowed 
 down to the massive cement gates, which looked to me 
 like a small replica of some of the locks on the Panama 
 Canal. With the help of an Indian who was ready for 
 
FOUR DAYS TO YUMA 30I 
 
 a job my boat was taken out, rolled around the buildings 
 on some sections of pipe, and slid over the bank into the 
 canal below the gates. 
 
 In spite of a desire to spend some time inspecting the 
 machinery of this great work, — which, with the canal 
 and other improvements, had cost the government over a 
 million dollars — I Immediately resumed my rowing. 
 It was mid-afternoon, and measured by the canal, which 
 was direct, It was twelve miles to Yuma. But I soon 
 learned that great winding curves made it much farther 
 by the river. In some cases It nearly doubled back on 
 Itself. The wind had shifted by this time and blew against 
 me so hard that It was almost useless to attempt rowing. 
 In another place there were no banks, and the water had 
 spread for three miles in broken sloughs and around 
 half-submerged Islands, the one deep channel being 
 lost In the maze of shallow ones. With these things to 
 contend with It was dusk long before I neared the town, 
 the twelve miles having stretched to twenty. Finally I 
 saw a windmill partly submerged. Some distance away 
 was a small ranch house also In the water. The house, 
 with lights In the upper story, was a cheering sight ; the 
 windmill looked out of place in the midst of all this desola- 
 tion of water. Soon other houses appeared with lights 
 showing through the windows. Once I lost my way and 
 spent a half hour In getting back to the right channel. 
 
 Somewhere in the dark, I never knew just when, I 
 
302 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 passed the mouth of the Gila River. In a similar way, in 
 broad daylight I had passed the Bill Williams Fork 
 above Ahrenburg. 
 
 At last I neared the town. I could discern some build- 
 ings on top of a small hill, evidently one of the back streets 
 of Yuma. After tying my boat, I hid my small load 
 in some mesquite trees, then climbed the hill and passed 
 between two peculiar stone houses dark as dungeons. 
 They puzzled me from the outside, but when once past 
 them, I was no longer in doubt. I had entered the open 
 gateway leading to the courtyard of the Yuma peniten- 
 tiary. No wonder the buildings looked like dungeons. 
 This was a new experience for me, but somehow I had 
 always imagined just how it would look. I was consid- 
 ering beating a retreat when a guard hailed me and asked 
 me if I was not lost. With the assistance of the guard, I 
 escaped from the pen and found my way to the streets of 
 Yuma, just four days after leaving the Needles bridge. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 ACROSS THE MEXICO BORDER 
 
 "Mexico is a good place to keep away from just at 
 present." This was the invariable answer to a few casual 
 inquiries concerning what I would be likely to meet with 
 in the way of difficulties, a possible companion for the 
 voyage to the Gulf, and how one could get back when 
 once there. I received little encouragement from the 
 people of Yuma. The cautions came not from the timid 
 who see danger in every rumour, but from the old steam- 
 boat captains, the miners, and prospectors who knew the 
 country and had interests in mineral claims across the 
 border. These claims they had lost in many cases 
 because they had failed for the last two years to keep 
 up their assessment work. There were vague suggestions 
 of being stood up against an adobe wall with a row of 
 "yaller bellies" in front, or being thrown into damp dun- 
 geons and held for a ransom. 
 
 The steamboat men could give me little information 
 about the river. The old channel had filled with silt, 
 and the river was diverted into a roundabout course 
 
 303 
 
304 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 little more than a creek in width, then spread over the 
 whole delta. The widely spread water finally collected 
 into an ancient course of the Colorado, known as the 
 Hardy or False Colorado. As nearly as I could learn 
 no one from Yuma had been through this new channel 
 beyond a certain point called Volcanic Lake. Two 
 or three parties had come back with stories of having 
 attempted it, but found themselves in the middle of 
 a cane-brake with insufhcient water to float a boat. With 
 a desire to be of real assistance to me, one old captain 
 called a Yuma Indian into his office and asked him his 
 opinion, suggesting that he might go along. 
 
 "Mebbe so get lost in the trees, mebbe so get shot 
 by the Cocopah," the Indian replied as he shook his head. 
 
 The captain laughed at the last and said that the 
 Yuma and Cocopah Indians were not the best of friends, 
 and accused each other of all sorts of things which neither 
 had committed. Some Mexicans and certain outlawed 
 whites who kept close to the border for different reasons, 
 and the possibilities of bogging in a cane-brake were the 
 only uncertainties. In so many words he advised me 
 against going. 
 
 Still I persevered. I had planned so long on completing 
 my boating trip to the Gulf, that I disliked to abandon the 
 idea altogether. I felt sure, with a flood on the Colorado, 
 there would be some channel that a flat-bottomed boat 
 could go through, when travelling with the current ; 
 
ACROSS THE MEXICO BORDER 305 
 
 but the return trip and the chances of being made a 
 target for some hidden native who had lived on this 
 unfriendly border and had as much reason for respecting 
 some citizens of the United States as our own Indians 
 had in the frontier days, caused me considerable con- 
 cern. I knew it was customary everywhere to make 
 much of the imaginary dangers, as we had found in our 
 other journeys ; but it is not difficult to discriminate 
 between sound advice and the croakings which are based 
 on lack of real information. I knew this was sound 
 advice, and as usual I disliked to follow it. At last I 
 got some encouragement. It came from a retired Wild 
 West showman, — the real thing, one who knew the West 
 from its early days. He laughed at the idea of danger 
 and said I was not likely to find any one, even if I was 
 anxious to do so, until I got to the La Bolso Ranch near the 
 Gulf. They would be glad to see me. He thought it 
 was likely to prove uninteresting unless I intended to 
 hunt wild hogs, but that was useless without dogs, and 
 I would have trouble getting a gun past the custom 
 officers. His advice was to talk with the Mexican consul, 
 as he might know some one who could bring me back by 
 horseback. 
 
 In the consul I found a young Spaniard, all affability, 
 bows, and gestures ; and without being conscious of it at 
 first I too began making motions. He deplored my lack 
 of knowledge of the Spanish language, laughed at any 
 
306 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 suggestion of trouble, as all trouble was in Eastern Sonora, 
 he said, separated from the coast by two hundred miles of 
 desert, and stated that the non-resident owner of the La 
 Bolsa cattle ranch happened to be in the building at 
 that moment. In a twinkling he had me before him and 
 explained the situation. This gentleman, the owner 
 of a 6oo,oooacre grant, and the fishing concession of the 
 Gulf, stated that the ranch drove a team to Yuma once 
 a week, that they would bring me back ; in the interval 
 I must consider myself the guest of the Rancho La 
 Bolsa. The consul gave me a passport, and so it was 
 all arranged. 
 
 In spite of the consul's opinion, there were many 
 whispered rumours of war, of silent automobiles loaded with 
 firearms that stole out of town under cover of the night 
 and returned in four days, and another of a river channel 
 that could be followed and was followed, the start being 
 made, not from Yuma, but from another border town 
 farther west. A year before there had been an outbreak 
 at this place of certain restless spirits, — some whites 
 included, — and they went along the northern line 
 of Mexico, sacking the ranches and terrorizing the people. 
 The La Bolsa ranch was among those that suffered. The 
 party contained some discharged vaqueros who were 
 anxious to interview the ranch foreman, but fortunately 
 for him he was absent. Then they turned south to Chi- 
 hauhau and joined the army of Madero. War, to them, 
 
ACROSS THE MEXICO BORDER 307 
 
 meant license to rob and kill. They were not insur- 
 rectos, but bandits, and this was the class that was most 
 feared. 
 
 Meanwhile I had not given up the idea of a possible 
 companion. Before coming to Yuma I had entertained 
 hopes of getting some one with a motor boat to take me 
 down and back, but there were no motor boats, I found. 
 The nearest approach to a power boat was an attempt 
 that was being made to install the engine from a wrecked 
 steam auto on a sort of flat-bottomed scow. I heard 
 of this boat three or four times, and in each case the in- 
 formation was accompanied by a smile and some vague 
 remarks about a "hybrid." I hunted up the owner, — 
 the proprietor of a shooting gallery, — a man who had 
 once had aspirations as a heavy-weight prize fighter, but 
 had met with discouragement. So he had turned his 
 activities to teaching the young idea how to shoot — 
 especially the "Mexican idea" and those other border 
 spirits who were itching for a scrap. 
 
 The proprietor of the shooting gallery drove a thriving 
 trade. Since he had abandoned his training he had 
 taken on fat, and I found him to be a genial sort of giant 
 who refused to concern himself with the serious side of 
 life. Even a lacing he had received in San Francisco 
 at the hands of a negro stevedore struck him as being 
 humorous. He did not seem to have much more con- 
 fidence in his "power boat" than the others, but 
 
308 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 said I might talk with the man who was putting it to- 
 gether, ending with the remark "Phillipps thinks he 
 can make her run, and he has always talked of going 
 to the Gulf.'' 
 
 t On investigation I found Al Phillipps was anxious to 
 go to the Gulf, and would go along if I would wait until 
 he got his boat in shape. This would take two days. 
 Phillipps, as he told me himself, was a Jayhawker who 
 had left the farm in Kansas and had gone to sea for two 
 years. He was a cowboy, but had worked a year or 
 two about mining engines. In Yuma he was a carpenter, 
 but was anxious to leave and go prospecting along the 
 Gulf. Phillipps and I were sure to have an interesting 
 time. He spoke Spanish and did not fear any of the 
 previously mentioned so-called dangers ; he had heard of 
 one party being carried out to sea when the tide rushed 
 out of the river, but as we would have low tide he thought 
 that, with caution, we could avoid that. 
 
 At last all was ready for the momentous trial. The 
 river bank was lined with a crowd of men who seemed to 
 have plenty of leisure. Some long-haired Yuma Indians, 
 and red and green turbaned Papagos, gathered in a group 
 off a little to one side. A number of darkies were fishing 
 for bullheads, and boys of three colors besides the Mexi- 
 cans and a lone Chinaman clambered over the trees 
 and the boats along the shore. 
 
 It was a moment of suspense for Phillipps. His 
 
Hiir>.: ii. 
 
 WINTER IN THE GRAND CANYON, FROM THE RIM. 
 
 WINTER IN THE GRAND CANYON, FROM THE RUER. 
 
ACROSS THE MEXICO BORDER 309 
 
 reputation as an engineer and a constructor of boats 
 hung in the balance. He also had some original ideas 
 about a rudder which had been incorporated in this 
 boat. Now was his chance to test them out, and his 
 hour of triumph if they worked. 
 
 The test was a rigid one. The boat was to be turned 
 upstream against an eight-mile current with big sand- 
 waves, beginning about sixty feet from the shore, running 
 in the middle of the river." If the engine ran, and the 
 stern paddle-wheel turned, his reputation was saved. 
 If she was powerful enough to go against the current, 
 it was a triumph and we would start for the Gulf at 
 once. 
 
 On board were Phillipps, a volunteer, and myself. 
 Before turning the boat loose, the engine was tried. 
 It was a success. The paddle-wheel churned the water 
 at a great rate, sending the boat upstream as far as the 
 ropes would let her go. We would try a preliminary 
 run in the quiet water close to the shore, before making 
 the test in the swift current. The order was given to 
 cast off, and for two men, the owner and another, to hold to 
 the ropes and follow on the shore. The engine was 
 started, the paddle-wheel revolved, slowly at first but 
 gathering speed with each revolution. We began to 
 move gently, then faster, so that the men on shore had 
 difficulty in keeping even with us, impeded as they were 
 with bushes and sloping banks. Flushed with success. 
 
3IO THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 the order was given to turn her loose, and we gathered 
 in the ropes. Now we were drifting away from the shore, 
 and making some headway against the swift current. 
 The crowd on shore was left behind. 
 
 But as we left the bank the river increased in speed, 
 and the boat gradually lost. Then she stood still, but 
 began to turn slowly, broadside to the current. This 
 was something we had not foreseen. With no headway, 
 the rudder was of no avail. There was no sweep-oar ; 
 we had even neglected to put an oar on the boat. With 
 pieces of boards the stranger and I paddled, trying to 
 hold her straight, but all the time, in spite of our efforts, 
 she drifted away from the land and slowly turned. A big 
 sand-wave struck her, she wheeled in her tracks and 
 raced straight for a pier, down the stream. 
 
 About this time our engineer began having trouble 
 with his engine. At first we feared it would not run, now 
 it seemed it would not stop. 
 
 A great shout went up from the shore, and a bet was 
 made that we would run to the Gulf in less than a day. 
 A darky boy fell off a boat in the excitement, the Indians 
 did a dance, men pounded each other and whooped for 
 joy. Then a bolt came loose, and the engine ran away. 
 Driving-rod and belts were whirled "regardless," as the 
 passenger afterwards said, about our heads. 
 
 Then the crash came. Our efforts to escape the pier 
 were of no avail. I made a puny effort to break the 
 
ACROSS THE MEXICO BORDER 31I 
 
 Impact with a pole, but was sent sprawling on the deck. 
 Al tumbled headlong on top of the engine, which he had 
 stopped at last, our passenger rolled over and over, 
 but we all stayed with the ship. Each grabbing a 
 board, we began to paddle and steered the craft to the 
 shore. 
 
 With the excitement over, the crowd faded away. 
 Only two or three willing hands remained to help us line 
 the craft back to the landing. The owner, who had 
 to run around the end of the bridge, came down puffing 
 and blowing, badly winded, at the end of the first round. 
 Without a word from any one we brought the boat back 
 to the landing. 
 
 Al was the first to speak. 
 
 "Well, what are you going to do V^ he asked. 
 
 "Me } I'm going to take my boat and start for the 
 Gulf in ten minutes. I'll take nothing that I cannot 
 carry. If I have to leave the river I will travel light 
 across the desert to Calexico. I think that I can 
 get through. If you want to go along, I'll stick 
 with you until we get back. What do you think 
 about it ?" 
 
 It was a long speech and a little bitter perhaps. I 
 felt that way. The disappointment on top of the three 
 days' delay when time was precious could not be forgotten 
 in a moment. And when my speech was said I was all 
 through. 
 
312 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 Al said he would be ready in half an hour. Our beds 
 were left behind. Al had a four-yard square of canvas 
 for a sail. This would be sufficient covering at night 
 in the hot desert. We had two canteens. The provi- 
 sions, scarcely touched before arriving here, were suffi- 
 cient for five days. I was so anxious to get started that 
 I did not take the time to replenish them in Yuma, in- 
 tending to do so at the custom-house on the Arizona side, 
 twelve miles below, where some one had told me there was 
 a store. I counted on camping there. After a hurriedly 
 eaten luncheon we were ready to start, the boat was 
 shoved off, and we were embarked for Mexico. 
 
 Half an hour later we passed the abandoned Imperial 
 Canal, the man-made channel which had nearly destroyed 
 the vast agricultural lands which it had in turn created. 
 Just such a flood as that on which we were travelling had 
 torn out the insufficiently supported head-gates. The 
 entire stream, instead of pushing slowly across the delta, 
 weltering in its own silt to the Gulf, poured into the bot- 
 tom of the basin nearly four hundred feet below the top 
 of this silt-made dam. In a single night it cut an eighty- 
 foot channel in the unyielding soil, and what had once 
 been the northern end of the California Gulf was turned 
 into an inland sea, filled with the turbid waters of the 
 Colorado, instead of the sparkling waters of the ocean. 
 Nothing but an almost superhuman fight finally rescued 
 the land from the grip of the water. 
 
ACROSS THE MEXICO BORDER 313 
 
 A short distance below, just across the Mexican line, 
 on the California side, was the new canal, dug in a firmer 
 soil and with strongly built gates anchored in rock back 
 from the river. 
 
 Half a mile away from the stream, on a spur railway, 
 was the Mexican custom-house. I had imagined that 
 it would be beside the river, and that guards would be 
 seen patrolling the shore. But aside from an Indian 
 fishing, there was no one to be seen. We walked out 
 to the custom-house, gave a list of the few things which 
 we had, assured them that we carried no guns, paid our 
 duty, and departed. We had imagined that our boat 
 would be inspected, but no one came near. 
 
 The border line makes a jog here at the river and 
 the Arizona-Mexico line was still a few miles down the 
 stream. We had passed the mouth of the old silt-dammed 
 Colorado channel, which flowed a little west of south ; 
 and we turned instead to the west into the spreading 
 delta or moraine. About this time I remarked that I 
 had seen no store at the custom-house and that I must 
 not neglect to get provisions at the next one or we would 
 be rather short. 
 
 "We passed our last custom-house back there." 
 Al replied, "That's likely the last place we will see until 
 we get to the ranch by the Gulf." 
 
 No custom-house ! No store ! This was a surprise. 
 What was a border for if not to have custom-houses and 
 
314 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 inspectors ? With all the talk of smuggling I had not 
 thought of anything else. And I could tell by Al's tone 
 that his estimation of my foresight had dropped several 
 degrees. This was only natural, for his disappointment 
 and the jibes still rankled. 
 
 At last we were wholly in Mexican territory. With 
 the States behind, all of our swiftly running water had 
 departed, and we now travelled on a stream that was 
 nearly stagnant. All the cottonwood logs which had 
 finally been carried down the stream after having been 
 deposited on a hundred shores, found here their final rest- 
 ing place. About each cluster of logs an island was 
 forming, covered with a rank grass and tules. 
 
 Ramified channels wound here and there. Two or 
 three times we found ourselves in a shallow channel, 
 and with some difficulty retraced our way. All channels 
 looked alike, but only one was deep. 
 
 Then the willow trees which were far distant on cither 
 shore began to close in and we travelled in a channel not 
 more than a hundred feet wide, growing smaller with 
 every mile. This new channel Is sometimes termed the 
 Bee River. It parallels the northern Mexico line; it 
 also parallels a twenty-five mile levee which the United 
 States government has constructed along the northern 
 edge of this fifty-mile wide dam shoved across the Cali- 
 fornia Gulf by the stream, building higher every year. 
 Except for the river channel the dam may be said to 
 
ACROSS THE MEXICO BORDER 315 
 
 reach unbroken from the Arizona-Sonora Mesa to the 
 Cocopah Mountains. The levee runs from a point of 
 rocks near the river to Lone Mountain, a solitary peak 
 some distance east of the main range. This levee, built 
 since the trouble with the canal, is all that prevents the 
 water from breaking into the basin in a dozen places. 
 
 We saw signs of two or three camp-fires close to the 
 stream, and with the memory of the stories haunting us a 
 little we built only a small fire when we cooked our even- 
 ing meal, then extinguished it, and camped on a dry 
 point of land a mile or two below. I think we were both 
 a little nervous that night ; I confess that I was, and if an 
 unwashed black-bearded individual had poked his head 
 out from the willows and said, "Woof!" or whatever 
 it is that they say when they want to start up a jack- 
 rabbit, we would both have stampeded clear across the 
 border. In fact I felt a little as I did when I played 
 truant from school and wondered what would happen 
 when I was found out. 
 
 Daybreak found us ready to resume our journey, 
 and with a rising sun any nervousness vanished. What 
 could any one want with two men who had nothing but 
 a flat-bottomed boat ? 
 
 All the morning we travelled west, the trees ever 
 drawing closer as our water departed on the south, run- 
 ning through the willows, arrow-weed, and cat-tails. 
 Then the channel opened into Volcanic Lake, a circular 
 
3l6 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 body of water, which is not a lake but simply a gathering 
 together of the streams we had been losing, and here the 
 water stands, depositing its mud. All the way across 
 it had no depth but a bottomless mud, so soft it would 
 engulf a person if he tried to wade across. 
 
 On the west there was no growth. The shore was 
 nothing but an ash-like powder, not a sand, but a rich 
 soil blown here and there, building in dunes against 
 every obstruction, ever moving before the wind. Here 
 were boiling, sputtering mud pots and steam vents build- 
 ing up and exhausting through mud pipe-stems, rising a 
 foot or two above the springs. Here was a shelter or 
 two of sun-warped boards constructed by those who 
 come here crippled with rheumatism and are supposed 
 to depart, cured. Here we saw signs of a wagon track 
 driven toward Calexico, the border town directly north 
 of the lake. The heat was scorching, the sun, reflected 
 from the sand and water, was blistering, and we could 
 well imagine what a walk across that ash-like soil would 
 mean. Mirages in the distance beckoned, trees and 
 lakes were seen over toward the mountains where we 
 had seen nothing but desert before ; heat waves rose and 
 fell. Our mouths began to puff from the reflected sun, 
 our faces burned and peeled, black and red in spots. There 
 was no Indication of the slightest breeze until about three 
 o'clock, when the wind moved gently across the lake. 
 
 We had skirted the northern part of the circle, pass- 
 
ACROSS THE MEXICO BORDER 317 
 
 ing a few small streams and then found one of the three 
 large channels which empty the lake. As it happened 
 we took the one on the outside, and the longest. The 
 growth grew thicker than ever, the stream choked down 
 to fifty feet. Now it began to loop backward and for- 
 ward and back again, as though trying to make the long- 
 est and crookedest channel possible in the smallest space. 
 The water in the channel was stagnant, swift streamlets 
 rushed in from the tules on the north, and rushed out 
 again on the south. It was not always a simple matter 
 to ascertain which was the main channel. Others just 
 as large were diverted from the stream. Twice we 
 attempted to cut across, but the water became shallow, 
 the tules stalled our boats, and we were glad to return, 
 sounding with a pole when in doubt. 
 
 Then we began to realize that we were not entirely 
 alone In this wilderness of water. We saw evidence of 
 another's passage, in broken cat-tails and blazed trees. 
 In many places he had pushed into the thickets. We 
 concluded it must be a trapper. At last, to our surprise, 
 we saw a telephone equipment, sheltered in a box nailed 
 on a water-surrounded tree. The line ran directly 
 across the stream. Here also we could see where a boat 
 had forced a way through, and the water plants had been 
 cut with a sharp instrument. What could it be ^ We 
 were certain no line ran to the only ranch at the Gulf. 
 We had Information of another ranch directly on the bor- 
 
3l8 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 der line, but did not think it came below the levee, and 
 as far as we had learned, there were no homes but the 
 wickiups of the Cocopah in the jungles. It was like one 
 of those thrilling stories of Old Sleuth and Dead Shot 
 Dick which we read, concealed in our schoolbooks, when 
 we were supposed to be studying the physical geography 
 of Mexico. But the telephone was no fiction, and had 
 recently been repaired, but for what purpose it was there 
 we could not imagine. After leaving the lake there was 
 no dry land. At night our boat, filled with green tules 
 for a bed, was tied to a willow tree, with its roots sub- 
 merged in tenfeetof water. Neverwere there such swarms 
 of mosquitos. In the morning our faces were corrugated 
 with lumps, not a single exposed spot remaining unbitten. 
 
 The loops continued with the next day's travel, but 
 we were gradually working to the southwest, then they 
 began to straighten out somewhat, as the diverted streams 
 returned. We thought early in the morning that we 
 would pass about ten miles to the east of the coast range, 
 but it was not to be. Directly to the base of the dark, 
 heat-vibrating rocks we pulled, and landed on the first 
 shore that we had seen for twenty-four hours. 
 
 Here was a recently used trail, and tracks where 
 horses came down to the water. Here too was the 
 track of a barefooted Cocopah, a tribe noted for its men 
 of gigantic build, and with great feet out of all propor- 
 tion to their size. If that footprint was to be fossilized, 
 
ACROSS THE MEXICO BORDER 319 
 
 future generations would marvel at the evidence of some 
 gigantic prehistoric animal, an alligator with a human- 
 shaped foot. These Indians have lived in these mud 
 bottoms so long, crossing the streams on rafts made of 
 bundles of tules, and only going to the higher land when 
 their homes are inundated by the floods, that they have 
 become a near approach to a web-footed human being. 
 
 Our stream merely touched the mountain, then turned 
 directly to the southeast in a gradually increasing stream. 
 Now we began to see the breeding places of the water- 
 birds of which we had heard. There was a confusion 
 of bird calls, sand-hill cranes were everywhere ; in some 
 cases with five stick-built nests in a single water-killed 
 tree. A blue heron flopped around as though it had 
 broken a wing, to decoy us from its nest. The snowy 
 white pelican waddled along the banks and mingled with 
 the cormorants. There were great numbers of gulls, 
 and occasional snipe. We were too late to see the ducks 
 which come here, literally by the million, during the win- 
 ter months. There were hawks' nests in the same groups 
 of trees as the cranes, with the young hawks stretching 
 their necks for the food which was to be had in such abun- 
 dance. And on another tree sat the parent hawks, com- 
 placently looking over the nests of the other birds, like 
 a coyote waiting for a horse to die. At Cocopah Moun- 
 tain a golden eagle soared, coming down close to the 
 ground as we rested under the mesquite. Then as we 
 
320 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 travelled clear streams of water began to pour in from 
 the north and east, those same streams we had lost above, 
 but cleared entirely of their silt. Now the willows grew 
 scarce, and instead of mud banks a dry, firm earth was 
 built up from the river's edge, and the stream increased 
 in size. Soon it was six or seven hundred feet wide and 
 running with a fair current. This was the Hardy River. 
 We noticed signs of falling water on the banks as though 
 the stream had dropped an inch or two. In a half-hour 
 the mark indicated a fall of eight inches or more ; then we 
 realized we were going out with the tide. A taste of 
 water proved it. The river water was well mixed with a 
 weak saline solution. We filled our canteens at once. 
 
 We saw a small building and a flagpole on the south 
 shore, but on nearing the place found it was deserted. 
 A few miles below were two other channels equally as 
 large as that on which we travelled, evidently fed by 
 streams similar to our own. There were numerous scat- 
 tered trees, some of them cottonwood, and we saw some 
 grazing cattle. We began to look for the ranch house, 
 which some one had said was at the point where the Colo- 
 rado and the Hardy joined, and which others told us was 
 at the Gulf. 
 
CHAPTER XXVII i 
 
 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 
 
 V 321 
 
322 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 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 chan- 
 nel 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 GULF OF CALIFORNIA 323 
 
 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, 
 
324 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 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 some- 
 where 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 some- 
 where 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 Mon- 
 tague 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, 
 
THE GULF OF CALIFORNIA 325 
 
 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 
 
326 THROUGH THE GkAND CANVON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 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 examina- 
 tion 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 adven- 
 ture, 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 Colo- 
 rado channel was fifteen miles from the mouth of the 
 river, and was not a slough as we had supposed. Doubt- 
 less 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, 
 

 \ 
 
 STEAM VENTS AND MUD POTS BESIDE VOLCANIC LAKE, MEXICO. 
 
 COCOPAH MOUNTAIN, MEXICO. 
 
THE GULF OF CALIFORNIA 327 
 
 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. 
 
 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 tied. 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 
 
328 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 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, scur- 
 ried across the plains. Mirages of trees bordering shim- 
 mering 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 some- 
 where 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. 
 
THE GULF OF CALIFORNIA 329 
 
 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 
 
330 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 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 unin- 
 formed 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 wc saw you !" And we felt the smiles 
 we could not see. 
 
 They said the large ranch had some Chinamen clear- 
 ing 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 
 
THE GULF OF CALIFORNIA 33 1 
 
 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. 
 
332 THROUGH THE GRAND CANYON FROM WYOMING TO MEXICO 
 
 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. 
 "Buenas dias," Al called as we pulled in to the landing. 
 
 "Buenas dias, Seiior," they answered with a smile. 
 
 They were employees of the Rancho La Bolso, which 
 was a half-mile up the stream. 
 
TEN MILES FROM THE GULF OF CALIFORNIA. COMING UP ON A TWENTV-FOOT 
 
 TIDE. 
 
 ^ UNSET ON THE LOWER COLORADO RIVER. 
 
THE GULF OF CALIFORNIA 333 
 
 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 chil- 
 dren 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 1" 
 
 THE IND 
 
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 look- 
 out by Brigham Young. The party were distributed as 
 follows : 
 
 The boats : i. Emma Dean. J. W. Powell, John C. Sum- 
 ner, Wm. H. Dunn. 
 
 2. Kitty Clyde's Sister. Walter Powell, G. Y. 
 
 Bradley. 
 
 3. No Name. O. G. Rowland, Seneca How- 
 
 land, 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. 
 
 335 
 
336 APPENDIX 
 
 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. Start- 
 ing 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 Can- 
 yon Saturday, Sept. 7, 1872. Here the voyage was discon- 
 tinued on account of high water, rising higher each day. 
 The crews of this party were distributed as follows : 
 
 1 871. I. Emma Dean. J. W. Powell, S. V. Jones, F. S. 
 Dellenbaugh, J. K. Hilliers. 
 
 2. Nellie Powell. A. H. Thompson, John F. Stew- 
 
 ard, F. M. Bishop, F. C. A. Richard- 
 son. 
 
 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 : 
 
APPENDIX 337 
 
 1872. I. 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 i, 1869. H. M. Hook and 
 one other were drowned in Red Canyon, and the expedi- 
 tion 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. 
 Julian, 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 tcm- 
 
338 APPENDIX 
 
 porarily 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 McDon- 
 ald, 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. Gallo- 
 
APPENDIX 339 
 
 way 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 com- 
 panion, 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 Hancc 
 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 
 
34© APPENDIX 
 
 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 re- 
 paired 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. 19, 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 Can- 
 yon, and one boat was left at this place. Purpose, 
 photographic exploration. 
 
 KOLB 
 
 On Sept. 8, 191 1, 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 fin- 
 
APPENDIX 341 
 
 Ished the trip at Needles with the Kolb brothers, Jan. 18, 
 191 2. Purpose, moving pictures and photographs. In 
 May, 191 3, 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, 1 89 1. 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 ac- 
 count of his experiences. 
 
 A. G. Turner, the Glen Canyon prospector, made 
 a successful passage through the rapids of this canyon 
 in 1907. 
 
342 APPENDIX 
 
 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 dis- 
 covered. 
 
 Charles Smith wrote us that he succeeded in getting 
 through after we saw him in 191 1. 
 
 In 191 2 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 Gal- 
 loway 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, 191 3, 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 con- 
 taining air chambers, succeed in getting through. 
 
 The writer believes that a passage can be made through 
 Cataract Canyon, in low water, without being com- 
 pelled to run more than one or two bad rapids, if great 
 
APPENDIX 343 
 
 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. Row- 
 locks, oars, paddles, and ropes should be carefully guarded 
 against breakage and loss. 
 
 The flood stage on the Colorado River, about 175,000 
 cubic second feet, equals the low water stage on the St. 
 Lawrence River at Niagara Falls, about 160,000 cubic 
 second feet. The maximum stage for 191 1 — ^78,000 cubic 
 second feet — came in June. The minimum for January 
 1912 — 3400 cubic second feet — was the lowest record 
 for many years. The descent in many rapids on th« 
 Colorado equals any rapids of the St. Lawrence. 
 
344 
 
 APPENDIX 
 
 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. 
 
 Flaming Gorge 
 Horseshoe 
 Kingfisher 
 Red 
 
 Lodore . . . 
 Whirlpool . , 
 Split Mountain 
 Desolation . . 
 Gray ... 
 Cataract 
 Marble . . 
 Grand Canyon 
 
 Length n« 
 Miles 
 
 35 
 
 20| 
 14 
 
 9 
 97 
 36 
 41 
 65^ 
 217 
 
 Greatest Depth 
 IN Feet 
 
 2700 
 
 2700-3000 * 
 
 2200 
 
 2000 
 
 2700 
 
 2000 
 
 2700-3000 * 
 
 3500 
 
 5000-6000* 
 
 ApPROXnCATE 
 
 Descent 
 
 350 
 
 425 
 
 140 
 
 90 
 
 550* 
 
 430 
 
 480 
 
 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. 
 
 1 Peaks dose to the canyon r«acb a height of 3000 ft. abort the river. 
 
 * The upper half of Desolation Canyon has no rapids. 
 
 * Maps give depth as 2700 ft. We believe some walls art higher. 
 
 * Greatest depth on the south side of the Grand Canyon is near 5000 ft., on the 
 north rim about 6000 ft. 
 
 Printed in the United States of Ameriaa. 
 
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