o6 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS lili!!'' 1l!lir'lli!i|ii|'!lll!llll 017 063 151 1 # I F 788 .H63 Copy 1 •GR/\ND(HNON • • OP TH& OLORflDO RIVER •ARIZONA GRAND CANON COLOEADO EIYEE, ARIZONA. C. A. HIGdlXS. 28 6 7 (> < With Original Illustkations by Thomas Moran, H. F. Farny and F. H. Lung HEN. PASSENGER DEPARTMENT SAN'I'A FE ROUTE, ClIICACK), 1S98. THE HENRY O. SHEPARD COMPANY, Printers and bookbinders, 212-214 Monroe Street, Chicago. I. THE Colorado is one of the great rivers of North America. Formed in southern Utah by the conlluence of the Green and Grand, it intersects the nortliwestern corner of Arizona, and, becoming the eastern bonndary of Nevada and California, flows southward until it reaches tidewater in tlie Gulf of California, Mexico. It drains a territory of 300,000 square miles, and, traced back to the rise of its principal source, is 2,000 miles long. At two points, The Needles and Yuma, on the California boundary, it is crossed by a railroad. Elsewhere its course lies far from Caucasian settlements and far fi'om the routes of common travel, in the heart of a vast region fenced on the one hand by arid plains and on the other by formidable mountains. The early Spanish explorers first reported it to the civilized world in 1540, two separate expeditions becoming acquainted with the river for a comparatively short distance above its mouth, and another, journeying from the Moqui Puel)los northwestward across the desert, obtaining the first view of the Big Canon, failing in every effort to descend the cafion wall, and seeing the river only from afar. Again, in 1776, a Spanish priest traveling soutbward tln-ough Utah struck off from the Virgen River to the southeast and found a practicable crossing at a point that still bears the name " Vado de los Padres." For more than eighty years thereafter the Big Canon remained unvisited, except by the Indian, the Mormon herds- man and the trapper, although the Sitgreaves expedition of 1851, journeying westward, struck the Colorado about one hundred and fifty miles above Yuma, and Lieutenant Whipple in 1854 made a survey for a practicable railroad route along the thirty-fiftli parallel, where the Atlantic and Pacific Railroad has since been constructed. The establishment of military posts in New Mexico and Utah having made desirable the use of a water-way for the cheap trans- portation of supplies, in 1857 the War Department dispatched an expedition in eharge of Lieutenant Ives to explore the Colorado as far from its mouth as navigation should be found practicable. Ives ascended the river in a specially constructed steamboat to the head of Black Canon, a few miles below the confluence of the Virgen River in Nevada, where further navi- gation became impossible ; then, returning to The Needles, he set off across the country toward the northeast. He reached the Big Canon at Diamond Creek and at Cataract Creek in the spring of 1858, and from the latter point made a wide southward detour around the San Francisco peaks, thence northeastward to the ]\Ioqui Pueblos, thence eastward to Fort Defiance and so back to civilization. That is the history of the explorations of the Colorado up to twenty-five years ago. Its exact course was unknown for many hundred miles, even its origin in the junction of the Grand and Green Rivers being a matter of conjecture, it being difficult to approaeh within a distance of two or three miles from the channel, wliile descent to the river's edge could be hazarded only at wide intervals, inasmuch as it lay in an appalling fissure at the foot of seemingly impassable cliff terraces that led down from the bordering i)lateau ; and an attempt at its navigation would have been courting deatb. It was known in a general way that the entire channel between Nevada and Utah was of the same titanic character, reaching its culmination nearly midway in its course throui^h Arizona. In 1869 Maj. J. W. Powell, now in charge of the United States Geological Survey, undertook the exploration of the river with nine men and four boats, starting from Green River City, on the Green River, in Utah. The enterprise met with the most urgent remonstrance from those who were best acquainted with the region, including the Indians, who maintained that boats could not possibly live in any one of a score of rapids and falls known to them, to say nothing of the vast unknown stretches in which at any moment a Niagara might be disclosed. It was also currently believed that for hundreds of miles the river disappeared wholly beneath the surface of the earth. Powell launched his flotilla on May 24, and on August 30 landed at the mouth of the Virgen River, more than one thousand miles by the river channel from the place of starting, minus two boats and four men. One of the men had left the expedition by way of an Indian reservation agency before reaching Arizona, and three, after holding out against unprecedented terrors for many weeks, had finally become daunted, choosing to encounter the perils of an unknown desert rather than to lirave any longer the frightful menaces of that Stygian torrent. These three, 'unfortunately making their appearance on the plateau at a time when a recent depredation Avas coloralily chargeable upon them, were killed by Indians, their story of having come thus far down the river in boats being wholly discredited by their captors. Powell's journal of the trip is a fascinating tale, w"ritten in a compact and modest style, which, in spite of its reticence, tells an epic story of purest heroism. It definitely established the scene of his exploration as the most wonderful geological and spectacular i>henomenon known to man- kind, and justified the name which had been bestowed upon it — The Grand Canon ^ sublimest of gorges; Titan of chasms. Many r3cientists have since visited it, and, in the aggregate, a considerable number of unprofessional lovers of nature; but until recently no definite appeal was made to the general sightseer, and the world's most stupendous panorama has been known princii^ally through report, by reason of the discomforts and dilliculties of the trip, which deterred all except the most indefatigable enthusiasts. Even its geographical location has been the sul)ject of widespread misajiprehension. As stated by Captain Dutton, in his "Tertiary History of the Grand Caiion District," its title has been pirated for api>lication to relatively insignificant canons in distant parts of the country, and thousands of tourists have been led to believe that they were viewing the Grand Caflon when, in fact, they looked upon a totally different scene, between which and the real Grand Canon there is no more comparison " than there is between the Alleghanies or Trosachs and the Himalayas " There is but one Grand Canon. Nowhere in human experience can its like be found. II. IT lies wholly in tlie northern part of Arizona. It is accessible from the north only at the cost of w'eeks of arduous travel, necessitating a special expedition with camp outfit and pack animals. On the south it is easily reached in a single day's journey l.)y stage from the town of Flagstaff, an important station on the Atlantic and Pacific Railroad, which is a division of the Santa Fe Route. There is no other railroad within a distance of several hundred miles. In May, 1892, a tri-weekly stage line was permanently established between Flagstaff and the Grand Caiion. The entire distance is sixty-five miles, and it is t-overed in less than twelve hours, by the aid of three relays. The route is nearly level, traversing the iilatform district which, taking name from the river, is known as the Colorado Plateau. The excellence of the roadway needs no other testimony than the fact that the jonrney eonsnnies so little time. For long stretches it is as hard and smooth as a bonlevard. The stage leaves Flagstaff in the morn- ing, reaches a comfortable dinner station at noon, and dejiosits its passengers at a permanent camp on the rim of the most impressive poilion of the Canon l)efore nightfall. The Canon camp is a tiny tent village, picturesqnely located in a ]>ark of tall pines. Each tent is floored, and furnished with bed, talile, chairs and other articles of comfort. Excellent meals are regnlarly provided. Pending the construction of more pretentious accommodations, which are in prospect, no more satisfactory provision for the needs of the visitor conld be desired. Elevated more than 7,000 feet above sea-level, the air is pure and exhilarating, and the health-giving climate that is characteristic of the region, together with the charming environment of the pine forest, would make a week's stay at the Caiion camp a delightful and profitable outing, even were there no Grand Canon at hand. The stage returns from the Caiion to Flagstaff every other day, enabling tourists who are pressed for time, or transcontinental travelers on business intent, to obtain a view of this incom- MIDWAY STATION AT CEDAR RANCH. parable spectacle at the cost of little delay. If it is necessary to be satisfied with a few hours' inspection, one may return the following morning after arrival, and thus see the Grand Canon in but two days' absence from Flagstaff. While so superficial a view will reveal only a fraction of its protean splendors, it will prove an everlasting memory. III. THE journey to the Caiion is greatly diversified in interest. Plunging at once into one of the parks that are pt'culiar to Arizona — forests of pine free from undergrowth, streaked with sun- light and seductively carpeted with grass — for many miles the road closely skirts the splendid San Francisco peaks, emerging into open stretches where prairie dogs abound, again winding through rocky defiles, on past volcanic vent-lioles, in whose subterranean recesses tlie Cave Dwellers made their primitive home and where the hill slopes are thickly strewn with fragments of pottery ; past bare mountains of black cinder striped with red slag; over broad ranges where shee]) and cattle T)rowse and the tents of the herders gleam from the hillside where the infrequent 9 spring pours out its flow; threading the notches of slopes regularly set with cedar and i>inon; across gentle divides from whose summits the faint rosy hues of the Painted Desert may be seen in the northeast, and in the north the black jagged lines of mountain ranges indefinitely for away; then once more into the pines and down a short, steep descent to the terminus in a roman- tic glen near John Hance's cabin, some fifteen miles west of the confluence of the Little Colorado with the main river. In all the journey nothing has been encountered that could prepare the mind for trans- cendent scenery, save that in the last half mile two or three glimpses of what were guessed to be pinkish clifls far to right and left were shadowed fiiintly through the trees. And certainly there is nothing that portends the heroic in the sylvan scene where at last the traveler quits the stage. Small herbage and flowers of every hue grow at the foot of the pines, among pretty rock frag- ments of variegated color. Save for a single crag, whose gray crest barely tops the northward slope of the glen, a hundred yards away, there is no hint of any presence foreign to the peaceful air of a woodland glade, denizened by birds and squirrels, innocent even of the rumor of such a thing as the Grand Canon. The visitor, smitten with a sudden fear of bitter disappointment in store strides eagerly up the slope to put the vaunted Canon to the test. Without an instant's warning he finds himself upon the verge of an unearthly spectacle that stretches beneath his feet to the tiir horizon. Stolid is he, indeed, if he can front that awful scene without quaking knee or tremulous breath. IV. A N inferno, swathed in soft celestial fires; a whole chaotic under-world, just emptied of primeval floods and waiting for a new creative word ; a boding, terrible thing, unflinchingly real, yet spectral as a dream, eluding all sense of perspective or dimension, outstretching the faculty of measurement, overlapping the confines of definite apprehension. The beholder is at first unimpressed by any detail ; he is overwhelmed by the cuM'tiMc of a stupendous panorama, a thousand square miles in extent, that lies wholly l)eneath the eye, as if he stood upon a mountain peak instead of the level brink of a fearful chasm in the plateau whose opposite shore is thirteen miles away. A la)>yrinth of huge architectural forms, endlessly varied in design, fretted with ornamental devices, festooned with lace-like webs formed of talus from the upper clifls and painted with every color known to the palette in pure transparent tones of marvelous delicacy. Never was picture more harmonious, never flower more exquisitely beautiful. It flashes instant communication of all that architecture and painting and music for a thousand years have grop- ingly striven to express. It is the soul of JMichael Angelo and of Beethoven. A canon, truly, but not after the accepted type. An intricate system of canons, rather, all subordinate to the river channel in the midst, which in its turn is subordinate to the total effect. That river channel, the profoundest dei^th, and actually more than six thousand feet below the point of view, is in seeming a rather insignificant trench, attracting the eye more by reason of its somber tone and mysterious suggestion than by any appreciable characteristic of a chasm. It is nearly five miles distant in a straight line, and its uppermost rims are 3,000 feet beneath the observer, whose measuring capacity is entirely inadequate to the demand made by such magnitudes. One cannot believe the distance to be more than a mile as the crow flies, before descending the wall or attempting some other form of inchworm measurement. Mere brain knowledge counts for little against the illusion under which the organ of vision is doomed here to labor. That red clitf upon your right, fading through brown, yellow and gray to white at the top, is taller thai\ the Washington monument. The Auditorium in Chicago would not cover one-half its jierpendicular span. Yet it does not greatly impress you. You idly toss a 10 HEAD OF THE HANCE TRAIL. pebble toward it, and are surprised tliat your aim fell short. Sub- sequently you learn that the cliff is a good half mile distant. If you care for an al^iding sense of its true proportions, go over to the trail that begins beside its summit and clamber down to its base and back. You will return some hours later, and with a decided respect for a small Grand Canon cliff. Relatively it is insignificant ; in that sense your first estimate was correct. Were Vulcan to cast it bodily into the chasm directly beneath your feet, it would pass for a bowlder, if indeed it were discoverable to the unaided eye. Yet the imme- diate chasm itself is only the first step of a long terrace that leads down to the innermost gorge and the river. Roll a heavy stone to the rim and let it go. It falls slieer the height of a church or an Eiffel Tower, according to your position, and explodes like a bomb on a pro- jecting ledge. If, happily, any considerable fragments remain, they bound onward like elastic balls, leaping in wild parabola from point to point, snapping trees like straws, bursting, crash- ing, thundering down until they make a last plunge over the brink of a void, and then there comes languidly up the cliff sides a faint, distant roar, and your bowlder that had with- stood the buffets of centuries lies scattered as wide as Wycliffe's ashes, although the final frag- ment has lodged only a little way, so to speak, below the rim. Su(;h performances are fre- quently given in these amphi- theaters without human aid, by the mere undermining of the rain, or perhaps it is here that Sisyphus rehearses his unending task. Often in the silence of night a tremendous fragment may be heard crashing from terrace to terrace like shocks of thunder jseal. The spectacle is so symmetrical, and so completely excludes the outside world and its accustomed standards, it is with difficulty one can acquire any notion of its immensity. Were it half as deep, half as broad, it would be no less bewildering, so utterly does it baffle human grasp. Something may l)e gleaned from the account given by geologists. What is known to them as the Grand Caiion District lies principally in northwestern Arizona, its length from northwest to southeast in a straight line being about 180 miles, its width 125 miles, and its total THE STAGE TERMINUS. area some 15,000 square miles. Its northerly l)egiiining, at the high iilateaus in southern Utah, is a series of terraces, many miles broad, dropping like a stairway step by step to successively lower geological formations, until in Arizona the platform is reached which borders the real chasm and extends southward beyond far into the central part of that territory. It is the theory of geologists that 10,000 feet of strata have been swept by erosion from the surface of this entire platform, whose present uppermost formation is the Carboniferous ; the deduction being based upon the fact that the missing Permian, Mesozoic and Tertiary formations, which belong above this Carboniferous in the series, are found in their place at the beginning of the northern terraces referred to. The theory is fortified by many evidences sui^plied by examination of the district, where, more than anywhere else, mother earth has laid bare the seci-ets of her girl- hood. The climax in this extraordinary example of erosion is, of course, the chasm of the Grand Cafion proi^er, which, were the missing strata restored to the adjacent plateau, would l)e ir),000 feet deep. The layman is apt to stigmatize such an assertion as a vagary of theorists, and until the argument has been heard it does seem incredible that water should have carved such a trough in solid rock. Briefly, the whole region appears to have been reijcatedly lifted and submerged, both under the ocean and mider a fresh-water sea, and during the period of the last upheaval the river cut its gorge. Existing as the drainage system of a vast territory, it had the right of way, and as the plateau deliberately rose before the px'essure of the internal forces, slowh', as grind the mills of the gods, through a period not to be measured by years, the river kept its bed worn down to the level of erosion ; sawed its channel free, as the saw cuts the log that is thrust against it. Tributaries, tracealjle now