Preliminary map of a portion of the northern part of the unknown country indicated by the blank space on MapA, at page 95, showing the course of part of Glen Canyon, the mouth of the Fremont (Dirty Devil) River, the Henry (Unknown) Mountains, and the trail of the first known party of white men to cross this area. The Escalante River which was mistaken for the Dirty Devil enters the Colorado just above the first letter "o" of Colorado at the bottom of the map. The Dirty Devil enters from the north at the upper right-hand side.
Showing results of recent re-survey of part of the Grand Canyon near Bright Angel Creek by the Geological Survey with ample time for detail. Compare with MapCat page 246—the south end of Kaibab Plateau.
line drawing: petroglyhs
line drawing: tipi
line drawing: boats on water
A River Entrapped—Acquaintance not Desired—Ives Explores the Lower Reaches—Powell the Conqueror—Reason for a Second Descent—Congressional Appropriation—Preparation—The Three Boats—The Mighty Wilderness—Ready for the Start.
A River Entrapped—Acquaintance not Desired—Ives Explores the Lower Reaches—Powell the Conqueror—Reason for a Second Descent—Congressional Appropriation—Preparation—The Three Boats—The Mighty Wilderness—Ready for the Start.
The upper continuation of the Colorado River of the West is Green River which heads in the Wind River Mountains at Frémont Peak. From this range southward to the Uinta Mountains, on the southern boundary of Wyoming, the river flows through an open country celebrated in the early days of Western exploration and fur trading as "Green River Valley," and at that period the meeting ground and "rendezvous" of the various companies and organisations, and of free trappers. By the year 1840 the vast region west of the Missouri had been completely investigated by the trappers and fur-hunters in the pursuit of trade, with the exception of the Green-and-Colorado River from the foot of Green River Valley to the termination of the now famous Grand Canyon of Arizona. The reason for this exception was that at the southern extremity of Green River Valley the solid obstacle of the Uinta Range was thrown in an easterly and westerly trend directly across the course of the river, which, finding no alternative, had carved its way, in the course of a long geological epoch, through the foundations of the mountains in a series of gorges with extremely precipitous sides; continuous parallel cliffs between whose forbidding precipices dashed the torrent towardsthe sea. Having thus entrapped itself, the turbulent stream, by the configuration of the succeeding region, was forced to continue its assault on the rocks, to reach the Gulf, and ground its fierce progress through canyon after canyon, with scarcely an intermission of open country, for a full thousand miles from the beginning of its entombment, the entrance of Flaming Gorge, at the foot of the historical Green River Valley. Some few attempts had been made to fathom the mystery of this long series of chasms, but with such small success that the exploration of the river was given up as too difficult and too dangerous. Ashley had gone through Red Canyon in 1825 and in one of the succeeding winters of that period a party had passed through Lodore on the ice. These trips proved that the canyons were not the haunt of beaver, that the navigation of them was vastly difficult, and that no man could tell what might befall in those gorges further down, that were deeper, longer, and still more remote from any touch with the outer world. Indeed it was even reported that there were places where the whole river disappeared underground. The Indians, as a rule, kept away from the canyons, for there was little to attract them. One bold Ute who attempted to shorten his trail by means of the river, shortened it to the Happy Hunting Grounds immediately, and there was nothing in his fate to inspire emulation.
The years then wore on and the Colorado remained unknown through its canyon division. Ives had come up to near the mouth of the Virgin from the Gulf of California in 1858, and the portion above Flaming Gorge, from the foot of Green River Valley, was fairly well known, with the Union Pacific Railway finally bridging it in Wyoming. One James White was picked up (1867) at a point below the mouth of the Virgin in an exhausted state, and it was assumed that he had made a large part of the terrible voyage on a raft, but this was not the case, and the Colorado River Canyons still waited for a conqueror. He came in 1869 in the person of John Wesley Powell, a late Major[1]in the Civil War, whosescientific studies had led him to the then territory of Colorado where his mind became fired with the intention of exploring the canyons. The idea was carried out, and the river was descended from the Union Pacific Railway crossing to the mouth of the Virgin, and two of the men went on to the sea. Thus the great feat was accomplished—one of the greatest feats of exploration ever executed on this continent.[2]
photo, skeleton
The Toll
Unidentified skeleton found April 1906 by C. C. Spaulding in the Grand Canyon 300 feet above the river, some miles below Bright Angel trail. There were daily papers of the early spring of 1900 in the pocket of the clothes.Photograph 1906 byKolb Bros.
Unidentified skeleton found April 1906 by C. C. Spaulding in the Grand Canyon 300 feet above the river, some miles below Bright Angel trail. There were daily papers of the early spring of 1900 in the pocket of the clothes.
Photograph 1906 byKolb Bros.
Circumstances had rendered the data collected both insufficient and incomplete. A second expedition was projected to supply deficiencies and to extend the work; an expedition so well equipped and planned that time could be taken for the purely scientific side of the venture. This expedition was the first one under the government, the former expedition having been a more or less private enterprise. Congress made appropriations and the party were to start in 1870. This was found to be inexpedient for several reasons, among which was the necessity of exploring a route by which rations could be brought in to them at the mouth of what we called Dirty Devil River—a euphonious title applied by the men of the first expedition. This stream entered the Colorado at the foot of what is now known as Narrow Canyon, a little below the 38th parallel,—the Frémont River of the present geographies. Arrangements for supplies to be brought in to the second expedition at this place were made by the Major during a special visit to southern Utah for the purpose.
By great good fortune I became a member of the second expedition. Scores of men were turned away, disappointed. The party was a small one, and it was full. We were to begin our voyage through the chain of great canyons, at the same point where the first expedition started, the point where the recently completed Union Pacific Railway crossed Green River in Wyoming, and we arrived there from the East early on the morning of April 29, 1871. We were all ravenous after the long night on the train and breakfast was the first consideration, but when this had re-established our energy we went to look for the flat car with our boats which had been sentahead from Chicago. The car was soon found on a siding and with the help of some railroad employés we pushed it along to the eastern end of the bridge over Green River and there, on the down side, put the boats into the waters against whose onslaughts they were to be our salvation. It was lucky perhaps that we did not pause to ponder on the importance of these little craft; on how much depended on their staunchness and stability; and on our possible success in preventing their destruction. The river was high from melting snows and the current was swift though ordinarily it is not a large river at this point. This season had been selected for the start because of the high water, which would tide us over the rocks till tributary streams should swell the normal volume; for our boats were to be well loaded, there being no chance to get supplies after leaving. We had some trouble in making a landing where we wanted to, in a little cove on the east side about half a mile down, which had been selected as a good place for our preparatory operations. Here the three boats were hauled out to receive the final touches. They were namedEmma Dean,Nellie Powell, andCañonita. A space was cleared in the thick willows for our general camp over which Andy was to be master of ceremonies, at least so far as the banqueting division was concerned, and here he became initiated into the chemistry necessary to transform raw materials into comparatively edible food. But it was not so hard a task, for our supplies were flour, beans, bacon, dried apples, and dried peaches, tea and coffee, with, of course, plenty of sugar. Canned goods at that time were not common, and besides, would have been too heavy. Bread must be baked three times a day in the Dutch oven, a sort of skillet of cast iron, about three inches deep, ten or twelve inches in diameter, with short legs, and a cast-iron cover with a turned-up rim that would hold hot coals. We had no other bread than was made in this oven, or in a frying-pan, with saleratus and cream of tartar to raise it. It was Andy's first experience as a cook, though he had been a soldier in the Civil War, as had almost every member of the party except the youngest three, Clem, Frank, and myself, I being the youngest of all.
For sleeping quarters we were disposed in two vacant wooden shanties about two hundred yards apart and a somewhat greater distance from the cook-camp. These shanties were mansions left over, like a group of roofless adobe ruins near by, from the opulent days of a year or two back when this place had been the terminus of the line during building operations. Little remained of its whilom grandeur; a section house, a railway station, a number of canvas-roofed domiciles, Field's "Outfitting Store," and the aforesaid shanties in which we secured refuge, being about all there was of the place. The region round about suggested the strangeness of the wild country below, through the midst of which led our trail. Arid and gravelly hills met the eye on all sides, accentuated by huge buttes and cliffs of brilliant colours, which in their turn were intensified by a clear sky of deep azure. In the midst of our operations, we found time to note the passing of the single express train each way daily. These trains seemed very friendly and the passengers gazed wonderingly from the windows at us and waved handkerchiefs. They perceived what we were about by the sign which I painted on cloth and fastened across the front of our house, which was near the track: "Powell's Colorado River Exploring Expedition." Above this was flying our general flag, the Stars and Stripes.
The white boats were thoroughly gone over with caulking-iron and paint. Upon the decks of the cabins, canvas, painted green, was stretched in such a way that it could be unbuttoned at the edges on three sides and thrown back when we wanted to take off the hatches. When in place this canvas kept the water, perfectly, out of the hatch joints. Each boat had three compartments, the middle one being about four feet long, about one-fifth the length of the boat, which was twenty-two feet over the top. Two places were left for the rowers, before and abaft the middle compartment, while the steersman with his long oar thrust behind was to sit on the deck of the after-cabin, all the decks being flush with the gunwale, except that of the forward cabin the deck of which was carried back in a straighter line than the sheer of the boat and thus formed a nose to help throw off the waves. It was believed that whenthe hatches were firmly in place and the canvases drawn taut over the decks, even if a boat turned over, as was expected sometimes might be the case, the contents of these cabins would remain intact and dry. As so much depended on keeping our goods dry, and as we knew from Powell's previous experience that the voyage would be a wet one, everything was carefully put in rubber sacks, each having a soft mouth inside a double lip with a row of eyelets in each lip through which ran a strong cord. When the soft mouth was rolled up and the bag squeezed, the air was forced out, and the lips could be drawn to a bunch by means of the cord. When in this condition the bag could be soaked a long time in water without wetting the contents. Each rubber bag was encased in a heavy cotton one to protect it; in short, we spared no effort to render our provisions proof against the destroying elements. At first we put the bacon into rubber, but it spoiled the rubber and then we saw that bacon can take care of itself, nothing can hurt it anyhow, and a gunny-sack was all that was necessary. Though the boats were five feet in the beam and about twenty-four inches in depth, their capacity was limited and the supplies we could take must correspond. Each man was restricted to one hundred pounds of baggage, including his blankets. He had one rubber bag for the latter and another for his clothing and personal effects. In the provision line we had twenty-two sacks of flour of fifty pounds each. There was no whiskey, so far as I ever knew, except a small flask containing about one gill which I had been given with a ditty-bag for the journey. This flask was never drawn upon and was intact till needed as medicine in October. Smoking was abandoned, though a case of smoking tobacco was taken for any Indians we might meet. Our photographic outfit was extremely bulky and heavy, for the dry plate had not been invented. We had to carry a large amount of glass and chemicals, as well as apparatus.
The numerous scientific instruments also were bulky, as they had to be fitted into wooden cases that were covered with canvas and then with rubber. Rations in quantity were not obtainable short of Salt Lake or Fort Bridger, and we hadCongressional authority to draw on the military posts for supplies. The Major and his colleague, Professor Thompson, went to Fort Bridger and to Salt Lake to secure what was necessary, and to make further arrangements for the supplies which were to be brought in to us at the three established points: the mouth of the Uinta, by way of the Uinta Indian Agency; the mouth of the Dirty Devil; and the place where Escalante had succeeded in crossing the Colorado in 1776, known as the Crossing of the Fathers, about on the line between Utah and Arizona.
photo, river canyon
Red Canyon.
Photograph byE. O. Beaman, 1871.
Mrs. Thompson and Mrs. Powell, who had come out on the same train with us, had gone on to Salt Lake, where they were to wait for news from the expedition, when we should get in touch with the Uinta Agency at the mouth of the Uinta River, something over two hundred miles further down. At length all was provided for and the Major and Prof. returned to our camp from Salt Lake bringing a new member of the party, Jack Hillers, to take the place of Jack Sumner of the former party who was unable to get to us on account of the deep snows in the mountains which surrounded the retreat where he had spent the winter trapping. Prof. brought back also an American flag for each boat with the name of the boat embroidered in the field of blue on one side while the stars were on the other. We all admired these flags greatly, especially as they had been made by Mrs. Thompson's own hands.
We had with us a diary which Jack Sumner had kept on the former voyage, and the casual way in which he repeatedly referred to running through a "hell of foam" gave us an inkling, if nothing more, of what was coming. Our careful preparations gave us a feeling of security against disaster, or, at least, induced us to expect some degree of liberality from Fortune. We had done our best to insure success and could go forward in some confidence. A delay was caused by the non-arrival of some extra heavy oars ordered from Chicago, but at length they came, and it was well we waited, for the lighter ones were quickly found to be too frail. Our preparations had taken three weeks. Considering that we were obliged to provideagainst every contingency that might occur in descending this torrent so completely locked in from assistance and supplies, the time was not too long. Below Green River City, Wyoming, where we were to start, there was not a single settler, nor a settlement of any kind, on or near the river for a distance of more than a thousand miles. From the river out, a hundred miles in an air line westward, across a practically trackless region, would be required to measure the distance to the nearest Mormon settlements on the Sevier, while eastward it was more than twice as far to the few pioneers who had crossed the Backbone of the Continent. The Uinta Indian Agency was the nearest establishment to Green River. It was forty miles west of the mouth of the Uinta. In southern Utah the newly formed Mormon settlement of Kanab offered the next haven, but no one understood exactly its relationship to the topography of the Colorado, except from the vicinity of the Crossing of the Fathers. Thus the country through which we were to pass was then a real wilderness, while the river itself was walled in for almost the entire way by more or less unscalable cliffs of great height.
Finally all of our preparations were completed to the last detail. The cabins of the boats were packed as one packs a trunk. A wooden arm-chair was obtained from Field and fastened to the middle deck of our boat by straps, as a seat for the Major, and to the left side of it—he had no right arm—his rubber life-preserver was attached. Each man had a similar life-preserver in a convenient place, and he was to keep this always ready to put on when we reached particularly dangerous rapids. On the evening of the 21st of May nothing more remained to be done. The Second Powell Expedition was ready to start.
line drawing, boat
FOOTNOTES:[1]Powell had received an appointment as Colonel before he left the Volunteer Service, but he was always called Major.[2]For the history of the Colorado River the reader is referred toThe Romance of the Colorado River, by F. S. Dellenbaugh.
[1]Powell had received an appointment as Colonel before he left the Volunteer Service, but he was always called Major.
[1]Powell had received an appointment as Colonel before he left the Volunteer Service, but he was always called Major.
[2]For the history of the Colorado River the reader is referred toThe Romance of the Colorado River, by F. S. Dellenbaugh.
[2]For the history of the Colorado River the reader is referred toThe Romance of the Colorado River, by F. S. Dellenbaugh.
photo, boats and crew
The dark box open.Cañonita; Andy, Clem, Beaman.Emma Dean; Jones, Jack, the Major, Fred.Nellie Powell; Prof., Steward, Cap., Frank.
Before the Start at Green River City, Wyoming.
Photograph byE. O. Beaman, 1871.
line drawing, river canyon
Into the Wilderness—The Order of Sailing—Tobacco for the Indians Comes Handy—A Lone Fisherman and Some Trappers—Jack Catches Strange Fish—The Snow-clad Uintas in View—A Larder Full of Venison—Entrance into Flaming Gorge.
Into the Wilderness—The Order of Sailing—Tobacco for the Indians Comes Handy—A Lone Fisherman and Some Trappers—Jack Catches Strange Fish—The Snow-clad Uintas in View—A Larder Full of Venison—Entrance into Flaming Gorge.
The 22d of May, 1871, gave us a brilliant sun and a sky of sapphire with a sparkling atmosphere characteristic of the Rocky Mountain Region. The great buttes near the station, which Moran has since made famous, shone with a splendour that was inspiring. To enable us to pick up the last ends more easily and to make our departure in general more convenient, we had breakfast that morning at Field's outfitting place, and an excellent breakfast it was. It was further distinguished by being the last meal that we should eat at a table for many a month. We were followed to the cove, where our loaded boats were moored, by a number of people; about the whole population in fact, and that did not make a crowd. None of the Chinamen came down, and there were no Indians in town that day. The only unpleasant circumstance was the persistent repetition by a deaf-mute of a pantomimic representation of the disaster that he believed was to overwhelm us. "Dummy," as we called him, showed us that we would be upset, and, unable to scale the cliffs, would surely all be drowned. This picture, as vividly presented as possible, seemed to give him and his brother great satisfaction. We laughed at his prophecy, but his efforts to talk were distressing. It may be said in excuse for him, that in some paddling up the river from that point, he had arrived at perhaps an honest conviction of what would happen to any one going below; and also, that other wise men of the town predicted that we would never see "Brown's Hole," at the end of Red Canyon.
At ten o'clock we pushed out into the current. There were "Good-bye and God-speed" from the shore with a cheer, and we responded with three and then we passed out of sight. The settlement, the railway, the people, were gone; the magnificent wilderness was ours. We swept down with a four-mile current between rather low banks, using the oars mainly for guidance, and meeting no difficulty worse than a shoal, on which the boats all grounded for a few moments, and the breaking of his oar by Jones who steered our boat. About noon having run three miles, a landing was made on a broad gravelly island, to enable Andy to concoct a dinner. A heavy gale was tearing fiercely across the bleak spot. The sand flew in stinging clouds, but we got a fire started and then it burned like a furnace. Andy made another sample of his biscuits, this time liberally incorporated with sand, and he fried some bacon. The sand mainly settled to the bottom of the frying pan, for this bacon was no fancy breakfast table variety but was clear fat three or four inches thick. But how good it was! And the grease poured on bread! And yet while at the railway I had scorned it; in fact I had even declared that I would never touch it, whereat the others only smiled a grim and confident smile. And now, at the first noon camp, I was ready to pronounce it one of the greatest delicacies I had ever tasted! They jeered at me, but their jeers were kind, friendly jeers, and I recall them with pleasure. In warm-hearted companionship no set of men that I have ever since been associated with has been superior to these fellow voyageurs, and the Major's big way of treating things has been a lesson all my life. We had all become fast true friends at once. With the exception of the Major, whom I had first met about two months before, and Frank whom I had known for a year or two, I had been acquainted with them only since we had met on the train on the way out.
In the scant shelter of some greasewood bushes we devoured the repast which the morning's exercise and the crisp air had made so welcome, and each drank several cups of tea dipped from the camp-kettle wherein Andy had boiled it. We had no formal table. When all was ready, the magic words,"Well go fur it, boys," which Andy uttered stepping back from the fire were ceremony enough. Each man took a tin plate and a cup and served himself. Clem and Frank were sent back overland to the town for a box of thermometers forgotten and for an extra steering oar left behind, and theCañonitawaited for their return.
During the afternoon, as we glided on, the hills began to close in upon us, and occasionally the river would cut into one making a high precipitous wall, a forerunner of the character of the river banks below. The order of going was, our boat, theEmma Dean, first, with Major Powell on the deck of the middle cabin, or compartment, sitting in his arm-chair, which was securely fastened there, but was easily removable. S. V. Jones was at the steering oar, Jack Hillers pulled his pair of oars in the after standing-room, while I was at the bow oars. The second in line was theNellie Powell, Professor A. H. Thompson steering, J. F. Steward rowing aft, Captain F. M. Bishop forward, and Frank Richardson sitting rather uncomfortably on the middle deck. The third and last boat was theCañonita, which E. O. Beaman, the photographer steered, while Andrew Hattan, rowed aft, and Clement Powell, assistant photographer, forward. This order was preserved, with a few exceptions, throughout the first season's work. It was the duty of Prof. and Jones to make a traverse (or meander) of the river as we descended. They were to sight ahead at each bend with prismatic compasses and make estimates of the length of each sight, height of walls, width of stream, etc., and Cap was to put the results on paper. The Major on his first boat, kept a general lookout and gave commands according to circumstances. He remembered the general character of the river from his former descent, but he had to be on thequi-viveas to details. Besides every stage of water makes a change in the nature of the river at every point. In addition to this outlook, the Major kept an eye on the geology, as he was chief geologist; and Steward, being assistant geologist did the same. Richardson was assistant to Steward. Jack was general assistant and afterwards photographer. I was artist, and later, assistant topographer also. It was my duty to makeany sketch that the geologists might want, and of course, as in the case of everybody, to help in the navigation or anything else that came along. Each man had a rifle and some had also revolvers. Most of the rifles were Winchesters.[3]We had plenty of ammunition, and the rifles were generally kept where we could get at them quickly.
In this order, and with these duties, we ran on down the Green, and so far at least as I was concerned, feeling as if we had suddenly stepped off into another world. Late in the afternoon we were astonished to discover a solitary old man sitting on the right bank fishing. Who he was we did not know but we gave him a cheer as we dashed by and were carried beyond his surprised vision. As the sun began to reach the horizon a lookout was kept for a good place for camp. I, for one, was deeply interested, as I had never yet slept in the open. At length we reached a spot where the hills were some distance back on the right leaving quite a bottom where there were a number of cottonwood trees. A deserted log cabin silently invited us to land and, as this was cordial for the wilderness, we responded in the affirmative. The sky had a look of storm about it and I was glad of even this excuse for a roof, though the cabin was too small to shelter our whole party, except standing up, and the beds were all put down on the ground outside. The night was very cold and the fire which we made for Andy's operations was most comforting. We had for supper another instalment of bacon, saleratus-bread, and tea, which tasted just as good as had that prepared at noon. Sitting on rocks and stumps we ate this meal, and presently the raw air reminded some of the smokers that, while they had thrown their tobacco away there was, in the boats, the quite large supply designed for our Red friends, should we meet any. Of course we had more than was absolutely necessary for them, and in a few minutes the pipes which had been cast away at Green River appeared well filled and burning. Perhaps we had pipes for the Indians too! I had not thrown my pipe away for it was a beautifully carved meerschaum—apresent. I knew just where it was and lighted it up, though I was not a great smoker. The Indians did not get as much of that tobacco as they might have wished.
To make our blankets go farther we bunked together two and two, and Jones and I were bed-fellows. It was some time before I could go to sleep. I kept studying the sky; watching the stars through the ragged breaks in the flying clouds. The night was silent after the gale. The river flowed on with little noise. The fire flickered and flickered, and the cottonwoods appeared dark and strange as I finally went to sleep. I had not been long in that happy state before I saw some men trying to steal our boats on which our lives depended and I immediately attacked them, pinning one to the ground. It was only Jones I was holding down, and his shouts and struggles to reach his pistol woke me, and startled the camp. He believed a real enemy was on him. There was a laugh at my expense, and then sleep ruled again till about daylight when I was roused by rain falling on my face. All were soon up. The rain changed to snow which fell so heavily that we were driven to the cabin where a glorious fire was made on the hearth, and by it Andy got the bread and bacon and coffee ready for breakfast, and also for dinner, for the snow was so thick we could not venture on the river till it stopped, and that was not till afternoon.
The country through which we now passed was more broken. Cliffs, buttes, mesas, were everywhere. Sometimes we were between high rocky banks, then we saw a valley several miles wide, always without a sign of occupation by white men, even though as yet we were not far from the railway in a direct course. Very late in the afternoon we saw something moving in the distance on the right. Our glasses made it out to be two or three men on horseback. A signal was made which they saw, and consequently stopped to await developments, and a bag of fossils, the Major had collected, was sent out to them with a request to take it to Green River Station, in which direction they were headed. They proved to be a party of prospectors who agreed to deliver the fossils, and we went on our way.
The mornings and evenings were very cold and frosty, but during the day the temperature was perfectly comfortable, and this was gratifying, for the river in places spread into several channels, so that no one of them was everywhere deep enough for the boats which drew, so heavily laden, sixteen or eighteen inches. The keels grated frequently on the bottom and we had to jump overboard to lighten the boats and pull them off into deep water. We found as we went on that we must be ready every moment, in all kinds of water, to get over into the river, and it was necessary to do so with our clothes on, including our shoes, for the reason that the rocky bottom would bruise and cut our feet without the shoes, rocks would do the same to our legs, and for the further reason that there was no time to remove garments. In the rapids further on we always shipped water and consequently we were wet from this cause most of the time anyhow. We had two suits of clothes, one for wear on the river in the day time, and the other for evening in camp, the latter being kept in a rubber bag, so that we always managed to be dry and warm at night. On making camp the day suit was spread out on rocks or on a branch of a tree if one were near, or on a bush to dry, and it was generally, though not always, comfortably so, in the morning when it was again put on for the river work. Sometimes, being still damp, the sensation for a few moments was not agreeable.
We snapped several of the lighter oars in the cross currents, as the boats were heavy and did not mind quickly, and to backwater suddenly on one of the slender oars broke it like a reed. Some of the longer, heavier oars were then cut down to eight feet and were found to be entirely serviceable. The steering oars were cut down from eighteen to sixteen feet. Extra oars were carried slung on each side of the boats just under the gunwales, for the Major on the former journey had been much hampered by being obliged to halt to search for timber suitable for oars and then to make them. There was one thing about the boats which we soon discovered was a mistake. This was the lack of iron on the keels. The iron had been left off for the purpose of reducing the weight when it should be necessary to carry the boats around bad places, but the rocks and gravel cut the keels down alarmingly, till there was danger of wearing out the bottoms in the long voyage to come.[4]
Jack was a great fisherman, and it was not long before he tried his luck in the waters of the Green. No one knew what kind of fish might be taken—at least no one in our party—and he began his fishing with some curiosity. It was rewarded by a species of fish none of us had ever before seen, a fish about ten to sixteen inches long, slim, with fine scales and large fins. Their heads came down with a sudden curve to the mouth, and their bodies tapered off to a very small circumference just before the tail spread out. They were good to eat, and formed a welcome addition to our larder. We were all eager for something fresh, and when we saw a couple of deer run across the bluffs just before we reached our fourth camp, our hopes of venison were roused to a high degree. Camp number four was opposite the mouth of Black's Fork at an altitude above sea level of 5940 feet, a descent of 135 feet from the railway bridge. After this the channel was steadier and the water deeper, Black's Fork being one of the largest tributaries of the upper river. We now came in view of the snowy line of the Uinta Range stretching east and west across our route and adding a beautiful alpine note to the wide barren array of cliffs and buttes. It was twenty or thirty miles off, but so clear was the air that we seemed to be almost upon it.
As we were drifting along with a swift current in the afternoon, the day after passing Black's Fork, one of the party saw a deer on an island. A rifle shot from our boat missed, and the animal dashing into the river swam across and disappeared in the wide valley. But another was seen. A landing was made immediately, and while some of the men held the boats ready to pick up a prize, the others beat the island. I was assigned to man our boat, and as we waited up against the bank under the bushes, we could hear the rifles crack. Then all was still. Suddenly I heard a crashing of bushes and a hundred yards above us a superb black-tail sprang into the waterand swam for the east bank. My sensation was divided between a desire to see the deer escape, and a desire to supplant the bacon with venison for a time. My cartridges were under the hatches as it chanced, so I was unable to take action myself. With deep interest I watched the animal swim and with regret that our fresh meat was so fortunate, for it was two-thirds of the way across, before a rifle cracked. The deer's efforts ceased instantly and she began to drift down with the current. We ran our boat out and hauled the carcass on board. At the same time as we were being carried down by the swift current we got a view of the other side of the island where Cap. up to his arms in the stream was trying to pull another deer ashore by the horns. It looked as if both deer and Cap. would sail away and forever, till another boat went to his rescue. Presently the third boat came down bearing still another deer. The successful shots were from Prof., Andy, and Steward. Our prospects for a feast were bright, and we had it. The deer were speedily dressed, Frank displaying exceptional skill in this line. Had we been able to stay in this region we would never have been in want of fresh meat, but when we entered the canyons the conditions were so different and the task of pursuing game so baffling and exhausting that we never had such success again. The whole of the next day we remained in a favourable spot at the foot of a strangely tilted ledge, where we jerked the venison by the aid of sun and fire to preserve it. Near this point as observations showed later we passed from Wyoming into Utah.
About dusk we were surprised to discover a small craft with a single individual aboard coming down the river. Then we saw it was a raft. We watched its approach with deep interest wondering who the stranger could be, but he turned out to be Steward who had gone geologising and had taken this easier means of coming back. He tried it again farther down and met with an experience which taught him to trust to the land thereafter.
photo, gorge
Flaming Gorge.
The Beginning of the Colorado River Canyons, N. E. Utah.Photograph byE. O. Beaman, 1871.
The next day our boat was held back for some special work while the others proceeded toward a high spur of the Uintas, directly in front of us. We followed with a fierce and blindinggale sweeping the river and filling our eyes with sharp sand. Nevertheless we could see high up before us some bright red rocks marking the first canyon of the wonderful series that separates this river from the common world. From these bright rocks glowing in the sunlight like a flame above the grey-green of the ridge, the Major had bestowed on this place the name of Flaming Gorge. As we passed down towards the mountain it seemed that the river surely must end there, but suddenly just below the mouth of Henry's Fork it doubled to the left and we found ourselves between two low cliffs, then in a moment we dashed to the right into the beautiful canyon, with the cliffs whose summit we had seen, rising about 1300 feet on the right, and a steep slope on the left at the base of which was a small bottom covered with tall cottonwood trees, whose green shone resplendent against the red rocks. The other boats were swinging at their lines and the smoke of Andy's fire whirling on the wind was a cheerful sight to the ever-hungry inner-man. Constant exercise in the open air produces a constant appetite. As long as we could protect our cargoes, and make our connections with our supplies as planned, we would surely not have to go hungry, but we had to consider that there was room for some variation or degree of success. There was at least one comforting feature about the river work and that was we never suffered for drinking water. It was only on side trips, away from the river that we met this difficulty, so common in the Rocky Mountain Region and all the South-west.
When the barometrical observations were worked out we found we had now descended 262 feet from our starting-point. That was four and a quarter feet for each mile of the sixty-two we had put behind. We always counted the miles put behind, for we knew they could not be retraced, but it was ever the miles and the rapids ahead that we kept most in our minds. We were now at the beginning of the real battle with the "Sunken River." Henceforth, high and forbidding cliffs with few breaks, would imprison the stream on both sides.
A loss of our provisions would mean a journey on foot, after climbing out of the canyon, to Green River (Wyoming) to Salt Lake City or to the Uinta Indian Agency. There was a trail fromBrown's Hole (now Brown's Park) back to the railway, but the difficulty would be to reach it if we should be wrecked in Red Canyon. We did not give these matters great concern at the time, but I emphasise them now to indicate some of the difficulties of the situation and the importance of preventing the wreck of even one boat.
line drawing, deer
FOOTNOTES:[3]Two were of the original Henry pattern.[4]For further description of these boats the reader is referred toThe Romance of the Colorado River, page 236, by F. S. Dellenbaugh.
[3]Two were of the original Henry pattern.
[3]Two were of the original Henry pattern.
[4]For further description of these boats the reader is referred toThe Romance of the Colorado River, page 236, by F. S. Dellenbaugh.
[4]For further description of these boats the reader is referred toThe Romance of the Colorado River, page 236, by F. S. Dellenbaugh.
line drawing, boat in rapid
The First Rapid—Horseshoe and Kingfisher Canyons—A Rough Entrance into Red Canyon—Capsize of theNell—The Grave of a Bold Navigator—Discovery of a White Man's Camp—Good-bye to Frank—At the Gate of Lodore.
The First Rapid—Horseshoe and Kingfisher Canyons—A Rough Entrance into Red Canyon—Capsize of theNell—The Grave of a Bold Navigator—Discovery of a White Man's Camp—Good-bye to Frank—At the Gate of Lodore.
Prof. now took observations for time and latitude in order to fix with accuracy the geographical location of the camp in Flaming Gorge, and to check the estimates of the topographers as they sighted the various stretches of the river. It has been found that estimates of this kind are quite accurate and that the variation from exactness is generally the same in[5]the same individual. Hence one man may underestimate and another may overestimate, but each will always make the same error, and this error can be readily corrected by frequent observations to determine latitude and longitude. A series of barometrical observations was kept going whether we were on the move or not. That is, a mercurial barometer was read three times a day, regularly, at seven, at one, and at nine. We had aneroid barometers for work away from the river and these were constantly compared with and adjusted to the mercurials. The tubes of mercury sometimes got broken, and then a new one had to be boiled to replace it. I believe the boiling of tubes has since that time been abandoned, as there is not enough air in the tube to interfere with the action of the mercury, but at that time it was deemed necessary for accuracy, and it gave Prof. endless trouble. The wind was always blowing, and no tent we could contrive from blankets, and waggon sheets (we had no regular tents), sufficed to keep theflame of the alcohol lamp from flickering. Nevertheless, Prof. whose patience and dexterity were unlimited, always succeeded. The mercurial barometers were of the kind with a buckskin pocket at the bottom of the cistern with a screw for adjusting the column of mercury to a fixed point.
Most of the men climbed out in various directions and for various objects. Prof. reached a high altitude whence he obtained a broad view of the country, a grand sight with the quiet river below and snow-capped mountains around, with rolling smoke and leaping flame, for there were great mountain fires not far off. The Major and Steward went geologising. Steward was rewarded by discovering a number of fossils, among them the bones of an immense animal of the world's early day, with a femur ten inches in diameter, and ribs two inches thick and six inches wide. These bones were much exposed and could have been dug out, but we had no means of transporting them.
Flaming Gorge is an easy place to get in and out of, even with a horse, and doubtless in the old beaver-hunting days it was a favourite resort of trappers. I am inclined to think that the double turn of the swirling river where it enters Flaming Gorge is the place known at that time as the Green River Suck. Our camp under the cottonwoods was delightful. We took advantage of the halt to write up notes, clean guns, mend clothes, do our washing, and all the other little things incident to a breathing spell on a voyage of this kind. It was Sunday too, and when possible we stopped on that account, though, of course, progress could not be deferred for that reason alone.
Monday morning we left the pleasant camp in the grove and went on with the tide. The river was rough from a heavy gale, but otherwise offered no obstacle. At a sudden bend we cut to the left deeper into the mountain till on both sides we were enclosed by almost perpendicular precipices of carboniferous formation, limestone, about 1600 feet high. The canyon was surprisingly beautiful and romantic. The river seemed to change its mood here, and began to flow with an impetus it had exhibited nowhere above. It swept on with a directness and a concentration of purpose that had about it something ominous. And just here, at the foot of the right hand wallwhich was perpendicular for 800 feet, with the left more sloping, and clothed with cedar shrubs, we beheld our first real rapid, gleaming like a jewel from its setting in the sunlight which fell into the gorge, and it had as majestic a setting as could be desired. For myself I can say that the place appeared the acme of the romantic and picturesque. The rapid was small and swift, a mere chute, and perhaps hardly worthy of mention had it not been the point where the character of the river current changes making it distinguished because of being the first of hundreds to come below. The river above had held a continual descent accelerating here and retarding there with an average current of two and a half miles an hour, but here began the quick drops for which the canyons are now famous. There was one place where Prof. noted a small rapid but it was not like this one, and I did not count it at all.
photo, canyon