Have you ever noticed how delicious the most ordinary food is, when cooked and eaten in the open air, after a day of reasonable exertion? Climbing, riding, and walking expand the lungs, and this means the absorption of immeasurably more oxygen. Weak stomachs, fickle appet.i.tes, dyspeptic symptoms, insomnia, blue devils and a score of the ills that human flesh is heir to, disappear before the floods of sunshine and oxygen that bathe the body, inside and out, of the man or woman who gladly accepts the outdoor life, even though only for a short time, in this Canyon region.

These philosophizings are aroused by the smell of bacon frying over the camp-fire, or the crack of a fine, mealy Arizona potato, roasting in the ashes, or a whiff from the coffee-pot, just about to topple over on the burning sticks. The fire is made of driftwood washed down possibly from some storm-swept region where a Mormon dwells with his numerous family; or, mayhap, from a forest where the elk of Wyoming still roam.

How real life in this Canyon now begins to be. It is opening up its secrets to us as we thus come into it. We are learning to love it, therefore it shows its heart to us. It no longer is a "thing" to be looked at; it is a real something, an individuality to love, to listen to, to question, to honor.

On the Tonto Trail. We are now ready to go over the old Tonto Trail the trail made centuries ago by mountain sheep, small bands of which are still to be found in the remoter corners of the Canyon--then followed by the Indians, whose moccasined feet made less impression upon it than did the hoofs of the sheep. And in the two or three decades just pa.s.sed, a few white men trod it. Perhaps Powell, or some of his men, or Stanton, walked where we now walk, or ride, and surely some of those early mining prospectors of the Canyon--Ashurst, McClure, Marshall, Hance, Boucher, Berry, Brashear,--once went this way.

In and out of the recesses of the much carved walls, up and down the wavy ridges of the plateaus, sometimes descending into deep side gorges, we ride, our guide leading the way to the Grand View Trail, and our pack-mules and burros following, while we occupy the rear of the procession. We stop for noon lunch in one of the side canyons where is a spring of clear water.

We take off the packs from the animals, and let them nibble away at the rich grama and gallinas gra.s.ses that flourish here after the summer rains.

Comfortable and contented after our meal, we lie on our backs under the shelter of a juniper or a friendly cottonwood, or in the shade of an immense block fallen from some cracked wall above. Already we are becoming familiar with the strata, and can call each one by name. The red wall limestone, we find, is known to the guides and miners as the "blue lime,"

owing to the fact that its capping stratum, where exposed, has a light blue color.

Cottonwood Creek and Horseshoe Mesa. In due time we reach Cottonwood Creek, which flows down to the left (west) of Grand View Point. Here the plateau opens out, but we leave it in order to follow the creek, on the Berry Trail down to the river. Perhaps we spend the night here, and in the morning ascend to the mesa on to the Tonto, then up the well-engineered trail to Grand View Cave (see description in chapter on Grand View Trail). Sending the pack animals on from here, we wait until some one descends from the near-by Horseshoe Mesa, where the camp of the Canyon Copper Company is located, with candles ready to conduct us through the wonders of this natural excavation in the red-wall limestone. This occupies the whole of our afternoon, so that when we reach the mesa, we are ready to partake of the substantial and cheery fare of the Camp, and then unroll our blankets, lie down, listen to the chat of the miners and guide, hear them recount some of their thrilling and exciting experiences, enjoy their singing of old-time melodies, with a peculiar western flavor to them, and then roll over to dreamless sleep.

Copper Mines. Half a day can be well spent on the morrow in the mines, and one is surprised to find here over half a mile of tunnels and shafts, with workings on seven levels, and ore so rich that under usual conditions it pays to mine, sort, pack on mules three miles or a little more to the rim, place in wagons, haul some fifteen or twenty miles to Apex, load on railway cars and ship--paying full freight, of course--about six hundred and eighty miles to El Paso, Texas, where it is "milled," and the copper, silver and gold extracted. These various processes are expensive. It costs to buy grain in Flagstaff, or Phoenix, and pay freight on it to Apex, and then haul it to the head of the trail, and thence to the stables on the plateau near the mine. Hay, too, has to come just as far. Every pound of the provisions used by the men has to be hauled in similar fashion over railroad, wagon road and canyon trail. Every pick, shovel, piece of iron or woodwork, every pound of powder, dynamite and fuse, every box of candles has to pay toll in like fashion, before it can be used in the mine. So we are not surprised to learn that the ore is rich, the first thousand tons mined going as high as thirty percent in copper, with several ounces of silver to the ton, and small but appreciable and valuable traces of gold.

(At the time of this writing, the mines are temporarily shut down.)

To the Old Hance Trail. The mouth of the mine enters the face of the cliff to the east, and overlooks the trail down which we descend into Hance Creek, where the old Hance Trail to the river used to be. It is an old friend, for we have been down it more times than once, and can recall every feature. We rest awhile here, in order to go down to the place where the side canyon through which the creek flows "narrows up." We pa.s.s through, and on the other side stand before the shattered Tonto sandstones that Thomas Moran, years ago, named the Temple of Set, and even further on, where we used to leave the horses and climb down a boulder, and up the face of the cliff, and down the rope ladder over the archaean rocks--here a crystalline mica schist--and so on, all the way to the river. So another day pa.s.ses, and we stretch out our blankets, and sleep on the very ledge on which we bunked years and years ago, when we made our first descent and camp in this canyon.

Red Canyon Trail. The next day we are ready to continue on to the west. We climb out of Hance Canyon, and cross the ridge into Mineral Canyon, ascend again, cross another ridge, and find ourselves in that wonderland of the geologist, the Red Canyon Trail.

What do I mean by the Wonderland of the Geologist? Ask of these tilted strata of red rock, that give the canyon its name, that the men wise in rocks call the non-conformable Algonkian strata! Ask of the folds, or, flexures, in the strata, which the untrained eye can readily discern!

The Algonkian. This is one of the spots that all geologists--from every part of the civilized world--aim for. They know it is one of the rare things of the known world, and they come here to see it. So make yourself as wise as you can while you are here and have the chance. Read Dr.

Walcott's monograph from the fourteenth report of the United States Geological Survey, Volume No. 2, ent.i.tled "Pre-Cambrian Igneous Rocks of the Unkar Terrane." Then read Major Powell's luminous earlier descriptions of these rocks in his "Explorations of the Colorado River of the West."

Learn from their own words what these geological masters say of these wonderful five hundred feet thick remnants of twelve thousand feet of strata that were once piled here above the archaean rocks. Imagine over two miles of strata thrust up into the air, and then pay strict attention as the scientists reason out their conclusions as to the how, why, where, and whence of the eleven thousand five hundred feet of washed away strata.

Asbestos Mines. If your guide knows how to compa.s.s it, cross the river here at the foot of the Red Canyon Trail, and visit the asbestos mines of the Hance Asbestos Mining Company of New York. Try to comprehend what asbestos is; how it is formed. See where it is located in these much burnt and much twisted strata.

If possible, go up and down the river, and see where the Inner Gorge--the granite or gneiss--really begins. It is not so very far away.

Then, when you are ready, watch the guide adjust the much-lightened pack, for the supply of "grub" is getting low; perhaps a.s.sist him swing the packs on the packsaddle, put on the canvas covering and throw the "diamond hitch," and then saddle your own horse--for by now you will have begun to feel some confidence and pride in doing things that the "tenderfoot"

generally leaves to the guide--and soon you are climbing up the trail on your way to the rim. As soon as you are on "top," you "push on" the pack animals and "hit the trail hard" by way of Hance's Ranch, now owned by Martin Buggel, to Grand View, and over the familiar road back to El Tovar.

Eastern Points. Or, before returning, one day or several more days can be spent in visiting the salient promontories--Moran, Zuni, Papago, Pinal and Lipan Points--and then descending the most eastern trail of the Grand Canyon, known as the Tanner-French Trail.

Imagine the gain after such a trip. Count up the store of knowledge acquired; the health, vim, vigor added to one's store; the capacity for energetic life developed; the experiences acc.u.mulated; the hardships laughed at and overcome; and then tell me whether any similar outlay of cash elsewhere can produce equal benefits in results.

This is but one of many such trips which I will now briefly and succinctly name, each one of which is different from every other one.

To Havasu Canyon. One, two, or three weeks (or more) can profitably be spent in going westward (twenty-five miles) over the Topocobya Road to the head of the Topocobya Trail into Havasu (Cataract) Canyon. This is a drive of forty miles. Camp over night there, and then descend in the cool of the morning down either arm of this stupendous cliff (see chapter on Havasu Canyon) to Topocobya Spring, and on down the wash into Havasu Canyon, fifteen miles or so to the Havasupai village.

Camp near, or in, one of the fields of the Indians, where good alfalfa can be purchased for the animals and fresh vegetables and fruit (in season) for one's own use. If you are not too squeamish to see aboriginal man in his primitive dirt, study him in his home. Try to learn to look at things from his standpoint. If possible, witness one of his dances--a religious ceremony--and arrange to enter his primitive toholwoh or sweat-house, where he will give you a most effective and powerful Russo-Turkish bath. Swim in Havasu Creek to your heart's content, several times a day. Climb to the old fort, where the Havasupais used to retire to defend themselves when pressed too closely by their hereditary foes, the Apaches. Listen to the stones, the legends, the myths about the stone figures your eye cannot fail to see soon after you reach the village, which command the widest part of the Canyon, where the Indians live, and which are called by them Hue-puk-eh-eh and Hue-gli-i-wa. Get one of the storytellers to recite to you the deeds of Tochopa, their good G.o.d, and Hokomata, their bad G.o.d, and ask them for the wonderfully fascinating legend of the mother of their tribe--the daughter of Tochopa, from whom the whole human race descended. Ask one of the old men to tell you the stories of some of their conflicts with the Apaches, and why Tochopa placed the Hue-gli-i-wa in so prominent and salient a position. If you desire something of a different nature, engage some of the younger men to get up a horse race. The wise and judicious expenditure of a few dollars will generally produce the desired effect.

Then, when you are ready to travel again, get a Havasupai to guide you--no one else can--up to the fascinating spring called Pack-a-tha-true-ye-ba, or to some of their side canyons where cliff-dwellings, corn-storage houses and pictographs abound.

Bridal Veil Falls. On your return, descend to Bridal Veil Falls, and see where a capitalist spent many thousands of dollars in unnecessary work because he had been deluded into the belief that platinum existed here.

Then forget men and their mad search for gold, and stand reverent before a secret shrine of beauty incomparable--this exquisite fall in its majestic setting. A day or more can be well spent here, and yet not exhaust the delight of this one fall. There are four ways of approach to it from the village above. Go over them all, as each has its own peculiar charm. Then strike off down the Canyon to Mooney Falls, and hear the story, as you cross and recross Havasu Creek, of the poor miner who was killed here and from whom the fall obtains its name. And finally, follow the winding of the pellucid stream until it is ejected through a narrow pa.s.sageway into the turbulent Colorado.

Cushing's Story of the Havasupais. On returning from the Havasupai village, come out by the Wallapai Trail or ascend the steep cleft of the Hopi Trail.

Both ought to be seen and gone over, in order to know something of the engineering skill of these Blue Water Indians. And if you can get hold of it, read Frank Hamilton Cushing's delightful account (in Volume 50 of the Atlantic Monthly) of his trip from Zuni and down the Hopi Trail to the village you have just left. Also, if you care to read more ancient history still, get Lieutenant Ives's fascinating report of his trip into this Canyon (published by the War Department) and, even earlier still, the diary of Padre Garces (see chapter on Garces), the man who camped with the ancestors of these hospitable Indians, while Jefferson, Adams, Washington and Hanc.o.c.k were defying the British and preparing to launch the Declaration of Independence.

To Powell Plateau and Point Sublime. Another two or three weeks' delightful experience can be gained by arranging to go down Ba.s.s's Trail, cross on his cable ferry, go up the Shinumo Trail to Powell Plateau, watch the herds of protected and preserved deer and antelope, look longingly upon the succulent and delicious pine-hens that live upon pinion nuts and roost in the branches of the pine trees of the Kaibab forest, and pleasantly saunter along out to Point Sublime. The guide will point out to you--or he is no guide--the spot where in 1873 Thomas Moran sat with Major Powell, and afterwards painted the memorable canvas of the Grand Canyon which now hangs in the Capitol at Washington. Sleep out on Point Sublime and remember Dutton, whose beautifully polished descriptions of the Canyon, written here, have thrilled thousands of civilized and cultured people. Then push on west to the Greenland Spring, over Walhalla Plateau to Naji Point, whence you can look down into Chuar Creek, where Dr. Walcott, with three Mormons, spent a snowy winter studying the Algonkian strata.

An Adventurous Trip. Or, better still, if you are ready for whatever adventure may befall on a seldom used trail, descend Dr. Walcott's old trail to the river, and there build a raft (it is perfectly feasible and not too dangerous, unless the river be at the flood) and cross to the other side, letting your horses swim over. Then come out by way of the Tanner Trail, after riding up and down the wide beach and sandy stretches of this part of the Canyon as far north and east as the Little Colorado.

Indeed you may walk up the boxed-in canyon of this side gorge--where few white men have trod--on your return.

Qver the Desert to Hopiland. A fascinating trip, not however connected with the Canyon, is suggested in the chapter on "An Historical Trail across the Grand Canyon Country." Arrange to go in mid-August, even though it be hot weather, if you have grown a little toughened, for then you will reach Hopiland at the time of the Snake Dance, which thrilling ceremony I have briefly, but truthfully, described in a special chapter.

Many such trips can be planned for those who really wish them, and he who is wise enough to take them will probably improve in health, gain a wonderful knowledge of one of the most fascinating regions of the earth, and fill the memory with treasures that nothing can destroy.

CHAPTER VIII. From El Tovar Down The Bright Angel Trail

The Start. Leaving El Tovar promptly at 8:30 A. M., fortified with a good breakfast, and suitably clothed, the trail party in a few minutes reaches the head of Bright Angel Trail near Bright Angel Camp. For three-quarters of a mile this trail descends, zigzagging back and forth until the top of the cross-bedded sandstone is reached.

Faulting in the Sandstones. Here the visitor should not fail to observe the faulting in the sandstone, there being a difference in the two sides of about two hundred feet. Without this fault there would have been no trail, for to the lifting up, or dropping down of the strata, is due their shattered condition, which alone makes trail-building possible. When about a mile down, the separation line between the cross-bedded sandstone and the upper red sandstone is clearly revealed to the left of the trail.

By this time all timidity has vanished, and you implicitly trust both mule and trail, even when going around that narrow ledge known as Cape Horn.

Now, immediately before us, the majestic pile known as the Battleship presents itself with new power. The ship itself is composed of the red sandstone. The base upon which it rests is the red-wall limestone.

A few feet further, and the cross-bedded sandstone may be seen far below on the right, out of plumb with the same ma.s.s on the left, to which it belongs, clearly showing that some convulsion of nature has either thrust the ma.s.s on the left up, or forced the ma.s.s on the right down.

From this spot a fine view is had of the red-wall limestone below and the Indian Garden; and, far below, at the end of Pipe Creek, the peculiar folding of the Algonkian strata. This folding is also to be seen on the other side of the river in the same rocks.

Trees, Flowers and Birds. While descending the first mile of trail, one sees plenty of flowers and shrubs, and many Douglas spruces. These do not exist on the rim, and, strange to say, the pines which abound there are never found on the trail. One will generally hear the sweet descending "pipe" of the canyon wren, and the harsh scolding of the blue-winged pinion jay. Hawks, owls, mocking-birds and robins are often seen. b.u.t.terflies, moths, and humming-birds wing their way to and fro and give a delicate touch of life to the stern rocky features. Time was when the visitor at El Tovar who went down the trail to the river might have seen mountain sheep, bear, deer, antelopes and coyotes.

Jacob's Ladder. When the "blue lime"--the top of the red-wall limestone--is reached, one may study a fine piece of real canyon trail-making, locally called Jacob's Ladder. Here steps have been cut in the slippery and solid rocks, in some places built up with timbers, and thus made perfectly safe.

It is customary for everybody to dismount here, so as to lighten the load.

The well-trained saddle mules of El Tovar stables go up and down this part of the trail without hesitation.

Red-Wall Limestone. Standing on the summit of the red-wall limestone, we are again forcefully reminded that it is the most prominent member of the Grand Canyon strata. Its insistent ma.s.s is a thousand feet in thickness.

The face of this wall, close before us, is carved into numerous alcoves, and as we near its base, we observe to the right a vast double-cornered recess known as Angel Alcove. From here it is interesting to look up to the rim and observe the peculiar and varied contour of the many pinnacles cut by wind and storm out of the cherty limestone.

Buddha and Manu Temples. From this point, also, the first good view, from below the rim, of Buddha Temple (seven thousand two hundred and eighteen feet) is obtained. It is to the left of Bright Angel Creek. Now look carefully at the ridge that leads the eye from Buddha Temple to Bright Angel Creek. It appears to be a portion of the main wall of the Kaibab Plateau. In reality it is three miles from the Kaibab wall, and, under suitable conditions, may be seen as a ma.s.sive temple, which has been named Manu Temple (seven thousand one hundred and ninety-two feet), after the great law-giver of the Hindoos.

Indian Garden and Cheops Pyramid. At the base of the red-wall limestone, the trail opens up a little, and permits easier breathing by the tyro on horseback; from now on to Indian Garden (three thousand eight hundred and seventy-six feet) we ride in a boulder bed, where large blocks of rock of every conceivable shape lie as they fell from the strata above. Small shrubs and plants abound, and tiny lizards and inquisitive swifts dart to and fro. Nearer to us is Cheops Pyramid (five thousand three hundred and fifty feet), a ma.s.sive monument, though less ornately carved than Buddha.

Isis and Shiva Temples. Above it and farther to the left, is Isis Temple (seven thousand and twenty-eight feet), the cap of which, at this angle, presents the appearance of two acorn-like structures resting upon their cups, the taller of which is carved out of the cross-bedded sandstone. It is the eastern supporter of Shiva Temple (seven thousand six hundred and fifty feet), of which Captain Dutton, who named it, wrote eloquently and vividly.

Brahma and Zoroaster Temples. Now turn the eye away from Shiva, across to the east of Bright Angel Creek. There, outlined against the sky, are two n.o.ble-profiled b.u.t.tes. The rear one is Brahma Temple (seven thousand five hundred and fifty-four feet), named after the first of the Hindoo triad, the Supreme Creator. The smaller b.u.t.te, an angular ma.s.s of solid, unrelieved rock, sloping in a peculiarly oblique fashion, is Zoroaster Temple (seven thousand one hundred and thirty feet), thus adding to the Hindoo pantheon a fane for the founder of the religion of the Irano-Persians.

Deva Temple, Obi, and Komo Points. Behind Brahma can be seen, when at the right angle, a flat-topped detached ma.s.s (seven thousand three hundred and forty-four feet) named Deva Temple. Behind and above it are two points, Obi (eight thousand feet) to the right, and Komo, about the same height, to the left. These are the salient points on Walhalla Plateau, overlooking the Ottoman Amphitheatre, the chief temples of which I have already named.