At the end of sixty-two miles the walls broke up into b.u.t.tes and pinnacles, thousands of them, suggesting immense organs, cathedrals, and almost anything the imagination pictured. One resembling a mighty cross lying down was in consequence called the "b.u.t.te of the Cross."* This was practically the end of Labyrinth Canyon, and sweeping around a beautiful bend, where the rocks again began to come together, we were in the beginning of the next canyon of the series, two years before named Stillwater. At the suggestion of Beaman, the bend was called Bonito.

On leaving our camp at this place the walls rapidly ran up, the current grew swifter, but the river remained smooth. The canyon was exceedingly "close," the rocks rising vertically from the edge of the water. There were few places where a landing could be made, but luckily no landing was necessary, except for night. The darkness fell before we found a suitable camp-ground. Some of our supplies had now to be used with caution, for it became evident that we would run short of food before we could get any more.

* Actually a pinnacle and a b.u.t.te--not a single ma.s.s.{See page 275}.

Long ago, no one knows how long, we might have been able to purchase of the natives who, a few miles below this camp, had tilled a small piece of arable land in an alcove. Small huts for storage were found there in the cliffs, and on a promontory, about thirty feet above the water, were the ruins of stone buildings, one of which, twelve by twenty feet in dimensions, had walls still standing about six feet high. The canyon here was some six hundred feet wide; the walls about nine hundred feet high, though the top of the plateau through which the canyon is carved is at least fifteen hundred feet above the river. We discovered the trail by which the old Puebloans had made their way in and out. Where necessity called for it, poles and tree-trunks had been placed against the rocks to aid the climbers. Some of our party trusted themselves to these ancient ladders, and with the aid of a rope also, reached the summit.

Beyond this place of ruins, the river flowed between walls not over four hundred and fifty feet apart at the top. The current was about three miles an hour, with scarcely a ripple, though it appeared much swifter because of the nearness of the cliffs. At the end of seven miles of winding canyon, there came a sharp turn to the east, which brought into view, at the other end, another canyon of nearly equal proportions and similar appearance. In the bottom of this flowed a river of almost the same size as the Green. The waters of the two came together with a good deal of a rush, the commingling being plainly visible. Neither overwhelmed the other; it was a perfect union, and in some respects it is quite appropriate that the combined waters of these streams should have a special name to represent them. The new tributary was Grand River, and when our boats floated on the united waters, we were at last on the back of the Dragon. Away sped the current of the Colorado, swirling along, spitefully lashing with its hungry tongue the narrow sand-banks fringing the rugged sh.o.r.es, so that we scarcely knew where to make a landing. Finally we halted on the right, constantly watching the boats' lines lest the sand should melt away and take our little ships with it. Along the bases of the cliffs above the high waters were narrow strips of rocky soil, supporting a few stunted cottonwoods and hackberry trees, which, with some stramonium bushes in blossom, were the sum total of vegetation. In every way the Junction is a desolate place. It is the beginning of Cataract Canyon, and forty-one miles must be put behind us before we would see its end--forty-one miles of bad river, too. From a point not far up the Green, which we easily reached with a boat, a number climbed out by means of a cleft about fifty feet wide, taking the photographic outfit along. The country above was a maze of crevices, pinnacles, and b.u.t.tes, and it seemed an impossibility for any human being to travel more than a few hundred yards in any direction. The character of the place may best be ill.u.s.trated by stating that Steward, who had gone up by a different route, was unable to reach us, though we could talk to him across a fissure. Many of these breaks could be jumped, but some of them were too wide for safety. The surface was largely barren sandstone, only a patch of sand here and there sustaining sometimes a bush or stunted cedar. It is the Land of Standing Rocks, as the Utes call it.

The supplies were now gone over and carefully and evenly divided, so that an accident to one boat should not cripple us any more than possible, and on Tuesday, the 19th of September, our bows were headed down the Colorado. A few miles below the Junction, a trail was seen coming down a canyon on the left, showing that the Utes have always known how to find the place. If Macomb had been properly guided he could have reached it. The familiar roar of rapids soon came to our ears, and thenceforth there was no respite from them. The first was so ugly that the boats were lowered by lines, the second was much the same, and then we reached a third which was even worse. The water was now growing cold, and as one's clothes are always wet when running rapids or portaging on the Colorado, we felt the effects of the deep shadows, combined with the cold drenchings. Our dinners were quickly prepared, for we were on allowance and Andy was not bothered with trying to satisfy our appet.i.tes; he cooked as much as directed, and if there were hungry men around it was not his fault. We all felt that short rations were so much ahead of nothing that there was no grumbling. The volume of water was now nearly double what it had been on the Green, and the force of the rapids was greatly augmented. Huge boulders on the bottom, which the Green would have turned over only once or twice, here were rolled along, when they started, for many yards sensible to not the eye but to the ear. This was a distinct feature of Cataract Canyon and shows the declivity to be very great and the boulders to be well worn. The declivity for a few miles is greater than in Lodore, perhaps the greatest on the river. Sometimes in Cataract the rumble of these boulders was mistaken for distant thunder. At one rapid I remember that a rock many feet square was swaying from the current. After dinner, the boats were lowered over the rapid, fall, cataract, or whatever it might be called, before which we had paused, and then in short order over four more tremendous ones. When we had run a fifth, in which we received a violent shaking-up, we went into camp on the left bank at the head of another roarer, or pair of them, and hastened to throw off our saturated clothes and put on the dry from out the friendly rubber sacks. I never before understood the comfort of being dry. The topographers recorded a good day's work: nine miles and eight powerful cataracts. Cataract, we decided was the proper name for these plunges, for though they were by no means vertical, they were more violent than what is ordinarily called a rapid. This was one part of the canyons where White, in his imaginary journey, found an easy pa.s.sage! The next day Powell took me with him on a climb to the top. We had little trouble in getting out. On the way back the Major's cut-off arm was on the rock side of a gulch we had followed up, and I found it necessary, two or three times, to place myself where he could step on my knee, as his stump had a tendency to throw him off his balance. Had he fallen at these points the drop would have been four hundred or five hundred feet. I mention this to show how he never permitted his one-armed condition to interfere with his doing things. The walls here were eighteen hundred feet, a gain of three hundred feet over the Junction. While we were away the men below had lowered the boats over two rapids, in one of which the Nell broke loose and went down alone with her cargo on board. As good fortune will have it, there is frequently an eddy or two at the foot of a rapid and into one of these she ran. By a desperate exertion of Hillers in swimming she was regained.

A boat must never be allowed to move without men aboard or lines attached. This would seem to go without saying, but for fear it does not I mention it for the sake of any who may want to try their skill at this work. In the morning there was a pleasant smooth stretch for some distance, but it was soon pa.s.sed, and cataract followed cataract till we counted ten. Seven we ran with exhilarating speed; the other three demanding more respectful treatment, we lowered the boats by lines, when the noon hour was at hand and a halt was made for refreshments, five miles from the starting-point of the morning. As soon as we had consumed the allowance of bread, bacon, and coffee, we took up our task by making two very difficult and tiring let-downs; that is, manoeuvring the boats in and out, among and over, the rocks alongsh.o.r.e by lines, with one or two men aboard, always on the lookout to prevent being caught by outer currents. This brought us face to face with a furious fall, but one that seemed free from obstructions, and the order was to run it. Accordingly, over we went, the boats shipping the great seas below and each one tapping the keel on a submerged rock at the start. Owing to the trend of the canyon, and the lateness of the season, the sun now pa.s.sed early from sight, the walls throwing the bottom of the gorge into deep shadow with a wintry chill that was quickly perceptible to us in our wet clothing. The result was that our teeth chattered in spite of all we could do to stop the uncomfortable performance, and our lips turned blue. To be soaked all day long near the end of September, in our climate, is not an agreeable condition. Though less than seven miles was made this day we were forced to stop when the shadow fell and make a camp at the first opportunity. It was only half-past three o'clock, but it had been sunset to us for half an hour. Thus each working day was sadly shortened, for even where the bends were most favourable, the warm sun shone upon us only for the middle hours. The walls were close together and very straight; they grew higher and more threatening with every mile of progress, so that it seemed as if another day or two would shut out the sun from the bottom altogether. On account of our limited larder, if for no other reason, we were obliged to push ahead as rapidly as possible. The next day we were at it early, easily running the first cataract, but just below it an immediate landing was imperative at the head of another which no man in his senses would think of running. Some hard work put us below that, and then came one far worse. The morning was gone before we saw its foam receding behind us. The following day, on summing up, after much severe toil, and stopping to repair boats, it was found that we had gone only a mile and a half! At this rate, we thought, when would we see the end of this gorge? But in the morning our wet clothes were put on without a murmur from any one, and once more we renewed the attack. The worst fall the next day was a drop of about twenty feet in twenty yards; a sharp plunge of the river in one ma.s.s.

As it seemed free from rocks in the middle a run was decided on. We therefore pulled squarely into it. On both sides the river was beaten to solid foam amongst the rocks, but in the middle, where we were, there was a clean chute, followed by a long tail of ugly waves. We were entirely successful, though the waves broke over my head till they almost took my breath away. The walls reached a height of twenty-five hundred feet, seeming to us almost perpendicular on both sides. It was the narrowest deep chasm we had yet seen, and beneath these majestic cliffs we ourselves appeared mere pigmies, creeping about with our feeble strength to overcome the tremendous difficulties. The loud reverberation of the roaring water, the rugged rocks, the toppling walls, the narrow sky, all combined to make this a fearful place, which no pen can adequately describe. Another day the Major and I climbed out, reaching an alt.i.tude, some distance back from the brink, 3135 feet above the river. The day after this climb the walls ran up to about twenty-seven hundred feet, apparently in places absolutely vertical, though Stanton, who came through here in 1890, said he did not think they were anywhere perpendicular to the top. The tongue of a bend we found always more or less broken, but in the curve the cliffs certainly had all the effect of absolute perpendicularity, and in one place I estimated that if a rock should fall from the brink it would have struck on or near our boat. This shows, at any rate, that the walls were very straight. The boats seemed mere wisps of straw by comparison, and once when I saw one which had preceded ours, lying at the end of a clear stretch, I was startled by the insignificance of the craft on which our lives depended. Beaman tried to take some photographs which should give this height in full, but the place was far beyond the power of any camera. In this locality there seemed to be no possibility of a man's finding a way to the summit. I concluded that at high water this part of Cataract Canyon would probably annihilate any human being venturing into it, though it is possible high water would make it easier. Where there was driftwood it was in tremendous piles, wedged together in inextricable confusion; hundreds of tree-trunks, large and small, battered and cut and limbless, with the ends pounded into a spongy lot of splinters. The interstices between the large logs were filled with smaller stuff, like boughs, railroad-ties, and pieces of dressed timber which had been swept away from the region above the Union Pacific Railway. Picture this narrow canyon twenty-seven hundred feet deep, at high water, with a muddy booming torrent at its bottom, sweeping along logs and all kinds of floating debris, and then think of being in there with a boat!

We proceeded as best we could with all caution. Every move was planned and carried out with the exactness of a battle; as if the falls were actual enemies striving to discover our weakness. One practice was to throw sticks in above them, and thus ascertain the trend of the chief currents, which enabled us to approach intelligently. The river here was not more than four hundred feet wide. As we continued, the canyon finally widened, and at one place there was a broad, rocky beach on the left. The opposite wall was nearly three thousand feet high. Beaman, by setting his camera far back on the rocks, was able to get a view to the top, with us in it by the river, while we were trying to work the boats past a rapid. This photograph is reproduced on this page {285}, and the figures, though very small, may be plainly seen. Not far below this the walls closed in again. Powell and Thompson tried to climb out, but they failed on the first trial and had no time to make a fresh start. They came back to camp and as soon as an early supper was over we started on--about five o'clock. The walls ran close together and at the water were perfectly vertical for a hundred feet or so, then there was a terrace. As we sailed down, the river was suddenly studded with pinnacles of rock, huge boulders or ma.s.ses fallen from the heights.

By steering carefully we could pa.s.s among these and, keeping in the dividing line of the current, make for the head of a rocky island, on each side of which the waters plunged against the cliffs with great force as they dropped away to a lower level. The danger lay in getting too far over either way, and it was somewhat difficult to dodge the pinnacles and steer for the island at the same time. The Canonita went on the wrong side of one, and we held our breath, for it seemed as if she could not retrieve her position in the dividing current, but she did. As we approached the head of the island our keel b.u.mped several times on the rocks, while the current changed from the simple dividing line and ran everywhere. At length we reached the shallow water, and as the keel struck gently on a rock we were overboard, soon pulling the boat on the island, where the others quickly followed. By hauling the craft down the right-hand side for about half the island's length, we were able to pull directly across the tail of waves from the right-hand rapid, and avoid being swept against the cliff on the left where the whole river set. So close did every boat go that the oars on that side could not be used for a moment or two; and then we were past. At a higher stage of water this place would be much simpler. The river became serene; night was falling; we drifted on with the current till a roar issuing from the darkness ahead admonished us to halt. Some broken rocks on the right gave a footing and there we remained till morning. In the night it rained, and the rain continued into the daylight till cascades came leaping and plunging from everywhere into the canyon. Two of these opposite our camp were exceedingly beautiful. One was about two feet wide and the other five. For one thousand feet they made a clear plunge, then vanished in spray, feathery and beautiful. These rain cascades are a delightful feature of the country and some day will be famous. Soon Millecrag Bend, marking the end of Cataract Canyon, came in sight. The walls were only broken by a deep canyon valley coming in on the left, and the next canyon. Narrow, then began, but it was not one with difficult waters, and, being only nine miles in length, we were soon through it. At its foot was the mouth of the Dirty Devil and the beginning of Mound Canyon, which was later combined with Monument under the name of Glen.

Our rations were now very low. For some time, each man had been allowed for a meal, only a thin slice of bacon, a chunk of bread about the size of one's fist, and all the coffee he desired. At long intervals a pot of Andy's rare bean-soup was added to the feast. It was necessary, therefore, to push on with all haste, or we would be starving. The Canonita was consequently taken out and "cached" under a huge rock which had fallen against the cliff, forming a natural house. Filling her with sand to keep her from "drying" to pieces we left her, feeling sure the party which was to come after her the next spring would find her safe.

She was forty feet above low water. We now went ahead with good speed, leaving as much work as possible for the prospective Canonita party to perform. All through Glen Canyon we found evidences of Puebloan occupation: house ruins, storage caves, etc. The river was tame, though the walls, about one thousand to sixteen hundred feet high, were beautiful, and often, in places, vertical. The low stage of water rendered progress somewhat difficult at times, but nevertheless we made fairly good time and on the 5th of October pa.s.sed the San Juan, a shallow stream at this season, entering through a wide canyon of about the same depth as that of the Colorado, that is, about twelve hundred or fourteen hundred feet. A short distance below it we stopped at the Music Temple, where the Rowlands and Dunn had carved their names. Reaching the vicinity of Navajo Mountain, Powell thought of climbing it, but an inquiry as to the state of the larder received from Andy the unpleasant information that we were down to the last of the supplies; two or three more scant meals would exhaust everything edible in the boats. So no halt was made. On the contrary, the oars were plied more vigorously, and on the 6th we saw a burned spot in the bushes on the right,--there were alluvial bottoms in the bends,--and though this burned spot was not food, it was an indication that there were human beings about; we hoped it indicated also our near approach to the Crossing of the Fathers.

Horses and men had recently been there. Noon came and the surroundings were as silent, unbroken, untrodden as they had been anywhere above the burned spot. Though there was little reason for it, we halted for a dinner camp, and Andy brought out a few last sc.r.a.ps for us to devour.

Hillers threw in a line baited with a small bit of bacon and pulled out a fish, then a second and several. It was the miracle of the loaves and fishes over again!

Bend after bend was turned and left behind, and still no Crossing, but late in the afternoon a shot was heard; then we saw a white rag on a pole; then we landed and beheld a large pile of rations, in charge of three men. These men, Dodds, Bonnemort, and Riley, as we were days overdue, had about made up their minds we were lost, and had contemplated departing in the morning and leaving the rations to their fate. Riley and Bonnemort were prospectors, who remained only to see us and make some inquiries about the river above. They told me afterward we were the roughest-looking set of men they had ever seen. Our clothes were about used up.

Powell prepared to go to Salt Lake, about five hundred miles away, to make preparations for our winter's mountain work, and we all wrote letters to send out. On the 10th of October they left us, Hillers going with Powell, while we were to run down thirty-five miles farther to the mouth of the Paria, and there cache the two boats for the winter.

Steward was now taken sick, and though some Navajos who came along kindly offered to carry him with them to Kanab, he preferred to stay with us, so we stretched him out, during our runs, on one of the cabins.

This was not entirely comfortable for him, but the river was smooth and easy as far as the Paria, so there was no danger of spilling him off, and he got on fairly well. At the Paria, Jones, who had made a misstep in one of the boats at the Junction and injured one leg, developed inflammatory rheumatism in it, and also in the other. Andy at Millecrag Bend had put on his shoe with an unseen scorpion in it, the sting of which caused him to grow thin and pale. Bishop's old wound troubled him; Beaman and W. C. Powell also felt "under the weather," so that of the whole party left here, Thompson and I were the only ones who remained entirely well. Arriving at the Paria, we hid the boats for the winter, and waited for the pack-train that was to bring us provisions, and take us out to Kanab, which would be headquarters. The pack-train, however, was misled by a man who pretended to be acquainted with the trail, and we ate up all the food we had before it arrived. It came over an extraordinary path. Lost on top of the Paria Plateau, it was only able to reach us by the discovery of a singular old trail coming down the two-thousand-foot cliffs three miles up the Paria. While waiting we had examined the immediate neighbourhood and had climbed to the summit of some sandstone peaks on the left, where the wall of Glen Canyon breaks away to the southward. The view was superb. Mountains, solid and solitary, rose up here and there, and lines of cliffs, strangely coloured, stretched everywhere across the wide horizon, while from our feet, like a veritable huge writhing dragon, Marble Canyon zigzagged its long, dark line into the blue distance, its narrow tributaries looking like the monster's many legs. I took it into my head to try to shoot from there into the water of Glen Canyon beneath us, and borrowed Bishop's 44-calibre Remington revolver for the purpose. When I pulled the trigger I was positively startled by the violence of the report, a deafening shock like a thousand thunder-claps in one; then dead silence.

Next, from far away there was a rattle as of musketry, and peal after peal of the echoing shot came back to us. The interval of silence was timed on another trial and was found to be exactly twenty seconds.*

The result was always the same, and from this unusual echo we named the place Echo Peaks.

* Should be twenty-four seconds.

I had made Jones a pair of crutches, by means of which he was able to hobble painfully around, and by the time the pack-train was ready to start for the settlement, about one hundred miles away, he could bear being lifted upon a horse. Steward, also, was able to ride, and with a number of us walking we left the Paria behind.

November's sharp days were upon us. We had only the remains of our summer clothing and few blankets, so that when the thermometer registered 11 degrees F. above zero we did not dispute it.

CHAPTER XII

Into the Jaws of the Dragon--A Useless Experiment--Wheeler Reaches Diamond Creek Going Up-stream--The Hurricane Ledge--Something about Names--A Trip from Kanab through Unknown Country to the Mouth of the Dirty Devil.

While our party, in September, was battling with the cataracts, another, as we afterwards learned, was starting from Camp Mohave on a perilous, impracticable, and needless expedition up the Colorado. How far this party originally expected to be able to proceed against the tremendous obstacles I have never understood, but the after-statement mentions Diamond Creek as the objective point. That such a wild, useless, and costly struggle should have been allowed by the War Department, which authorised it, seems singular, more particularly as little new was or could be, accomplished by it. The War Department must have known that Powell, two years before, had descended the river from Wyoming to the mouth of the Virgen, and that he was now more than half-way down the river on his second, more detailed exploration, authorised and paid for by the Government. Lieutenant Ives had also years before completely explored as high as the Vegas Wash, and there were therefore only the few miles, about twenty-five, between that Wash and the mouth of the Virgen, which might technically be considered unexplored, though only technically, for several parties had pa.s.sed over it. Then why was this forlorn hope inaugurated? What credit could any one expect to obtain by bucking for miles up the deep, dangerous gorge filled with difficult rapids, which Powell had found hazardous and well-nigh impossible, coming down with the current? The leader of this superfluous endeavour was Lieutenant Wheeler, of the Topographical Engineers, who had been roaming the Western country for several years with a large escort.

For some reason, Wheeler seems to have been disinclined to give Powell credit for his masterly achievement. On the map published in his Report, under the date 1879, TEN YEARS AFTER POWELL'S TRIUMPH, he omits his name entirely, and he also fails to give Ives credit on the river, though he records his land trail. In the text I fail to find any mention of Powell in the regular order, and only towards the end of the volume under a different heading. As the book gives an admirable and detailed review of explorations in the West, one is completely at a loss to understand the omission of credit to two of the most distinguished explorers of all.

Wheeler accepted White's story because one of his men who knew White at Camp Mohave, "corroborated" it. How could a man who knew nothing about the canyons give testimony worth consideration, for or against? Wheeler had also been informed by O. D. Ga.s.s, who, with three others, had worked his way up the Grand Canyon some few miles in 1864, that in his opinion it was impossible to go farther than he had gone. Yet White had reported this whole gorge as having only smooth water; his difficulties had all ended at the mouth of the Little Colorado. Ga.s.s's experience was worth a good deal as a gauge of White's story, and it proved the story false.

But Wheeler did not so consider it, and therefore prepared to make the attempt to go beyond Ga.s.s. The latter was about right in considering it impossible to go above his highest point, but when Wheeler found himself trapped in the chasm, he was desperate, and, being at the time favoured by a low stage of water, he finally managed to get through.

Wheeler's boats were built in San Francisco and sent by way of the mouth of the Colorado to Camp Mohave. No details are given of their construction, but from Dr. Gilbert I learn that they were flat-bottomed.

They were apparently about eighteen feet long. See page 302. There were three, and in addition a barge was taken from the quartermaster's department at Camp Mohave. There were two land parties with supplies, and the river party, the latter composed of the following persons: First Lieutenant George M. Wheeler, U. S. Topographical Engineers; G. K.

Gilbert, geologist; W. J. Hoffman, naturalist; P. W. Hamel, topographer; T. H. O'Sullivan, photographer; E. M. Richardson, a.s.sistant topographer and artist; Frank Hec.o.x, barometrical a.s.sistant; Frederick W. Loring, general a.s.sistant; six boatmen, six soldiers (one sergeant and five privates from Co. G, 12th Infantry, stationed at Mohave) and "Captain"

Asquit, and thirteen other Mohaves--in all thirty-four. It was the fate of three of these, after escaping from the dangers of the great chasm, to be killed by an attack of Apaches on the Wickenburg stage. These were Loring, Hamel, and Salmon. Loring was a brilliant young literary man from Boston, whose career was thus sadly ended.

The boats appear not to have been regularly named, though two of them, at least, received t.i.tles before long, one, the boat Gilbert was in, being called the Trilobite, and the other, the photographic boat, was termed the Picture. Leaving Mohave on September 16th (1871) they proceeded with little difficulty by towing and rowing, as far as Ives had taken the Explorer, to the foot of Black Canyon. From here the work was harder, but by the 18th they had arrived in the heart of this canyon. The rapids were now more severe, but as Ives had gone up easily, and also Johnson with his steamboat, and Rodgers with his, there was nothing to prevent the ascent of this party. On the tenth day, therefore, they pa.s.sed Fortification Rock and reached Las Vegas Wash, the termination of the Ives exploration. From here to the mouth of the Virgen was the stretch that had, technically, never been explored, though it had been traversed, at least, several times. There is one small canyon in the distance, called Boulder. Pa.s.sing the mouth of the Virgen, Wheeler entered the canyon through the Virgen Mountains, and this he named Virgin Canyon because, as he says, it was his "first canyon on entirely new ground." I am at a loss to understand his meaning. If he intended to convey the impression that he was the first to traverse this portion, it is an unwarranted a.s.sumption, and must be emphatically condemned. Powell had descended as far as the Virgen, and thus Wheeler was simply following his course backwards.

Pa.s.sing through another small unnamed canyon, to which he applied the term Iceberg on account of the contour of its northern walls, he finally, on October 3d, came to the Grand Wash. On the next day the Ute Crossing near the beginning of the Grand Canyon was reached. Two or three days before this he could see what seemed to be a high range of mountains apparently perpendicular, which was, as he surmised, the foot of the Grand Canyon. Progress was now very slow, for the river was swifter than it had been below. Perceiving the impossibility of taking such a craft farther, the barge was left behind at the Crossing, to form a base of supplies in case the difficulties of ascending necessitated falling back. Relief parties from the rendezvous at Truxton Springs were to go, one to the mouth of the canyon and the other to the mouth of Diamond Creek, about thirty-five miles distant from the Springs, but the situation was complicated by these parties having no orders to wait at these points. Putting all of his land force who were at the canyon mouth on the south side of "this turbid, unmanageable stream," and picking three crews of nine persons each, with rations for fifteen days, he was ready to go ahead with this unwise enterprise, "imagining," as he admits, "but few of the many difficulties that were to be met." It was on October 7th that they entered the mouth of the great gorge. At length "a full view, magnificent beyond description, of the walls of the Grand Canyon" was had, and they were fairly on the road; as rough a road, going down, as one can well imagine, but going up in the teeth of the torrential rapids, hemmed in by close granite walls, it is about as near the impossible as anything that is not absolutely so could be. Wheeler certainly deserves credit for one thing in this haphazard affair, and that is for a splendid courage and abundant nerve, in which he was well supported by Gilbert's cool fort.i.tude and indomitable spirit. Once, when I was discussing this journey with Stanton, who, at a later period, came down the gorge, he would hardly admit that Wheeler actually did reach Diamond Creek: he thought the ascent impossible. The second day in the canyon five rapids were pa.s.sed within two miles, and, on the next, nine were overcome before noon, and before sunset, fifteen, showing that the party were working with all the nerve and muscle they possessed. On this day they pa.s.sed the monument Ga.s.s and his companions had erected at their farthest point in 1864. The rapids were now "more formidable"

than any yet seen, and Wheeler was "satisfied" that no one had ever gone higher. This was true, and it is probable no one will ever try to go up this portion again. The way to make the pa.s.sage is from above, the work being less and the danger no greater. Wherever a portage can be made going up it can also be made going down. The river was compressed to seventy-five feet in one place on this day. On the 10th they made about five miles, and met with a serious accident: two of the boats were carried back over a rapid, but were luckily secured again without having suffered damage. The declivity was now very great, and the stream flowed along between solid granite, where footing was both difficult and dangerous, and pulling the boats up over the rocks taxed the combined strength of the crews. Everything had to be unloaded at one bad place and the first boat was nearly swamped. All could not be taken up before dark, so a "dreary camp is made among the debris of the slopes, where, cuddled up Indian-fashion, the weary hours of the night are pa.s.sed." The labour was tremendous, and two of the party became ill: one, a Mohave, who was badly bruised by being thrown upon the rocks. Wheeler now began to despair of reaching Diamond Creek, and well he might, but he concluded that he could get there if the men and the boats would but hold together. The next day, another series of rapids was surmounted, and then came a particularly bad-looking one. The first boat was filled instantly with water, swamped, and thrown back against the rocks "almost a perfect wreck, and its contents were washed down below the overhanging rocks." A package of Wheeler's valuable papers was lost, also a lot of expensive instruments, the astronomical and meteorological observations, and the entire cargo of rations. This was a discouraging disaster, and came near compelling the retreat of the whole party. Darkness came on, and they were obliged to drop back about half a mile to make a camp.

Wheeler was weary and dispirited, though he maintained an outward show of cheerfulness toward the men, and the next morning the Dragon was faced again. They tried to find some remnant of the lost cargo, but it had completely vanished. Everything had been swept away forever. All the party were despondent, one boat was badly damaged, and the diminution of the rations made the outlook gloomy. The damaged boat was therefore sent with a crew back to the place at the mouth of the canyon where the barge had been left. With the exception of Wheeler and Gilbert none of the party believed the cataracts now ahead could be surmounted.

"Mr. Gilbert and myself," writes Wheeler, "propose to rea.s.sure the men by taking the first boat across the rapids. Portage of the stores is made to the wash at the head of the rapids, which consumes the greater share of the day, and half an hour before twilight a rope is stretched and the emergency prepared for. The entire force is stationed along the line, and the cast-off is made. In five minutes the worst part of the rapid is over, and just as the sun sinks gloomily behind the canyon horizon, the worst rapid is triumphantly pa.s.sed amid the cheers and exultations of every member of the party."

The following day, October 13th, they reached the narrowest part of the river, a channel less than fifty feet wide, but the canyon on top is, of course, very broad. With many portages and other arduous toil the party slowly climbed up the river, sometimes making less than three miles, sometimes a little more. The rapids grew worse and worse, and the smooth stretches in between shorter and shorter. On the 15th Gilbert's boat broke away, and he and Hec.o.x were swept so far down the stream that the rest could not reach them. They were obliged to remain where they were through the night with nothing to eat. The main camp was at a place where there was barely room for the men to sleep amongst the rocks. They were all gloomy enough, and starvation was beginning to show its dreaded shadow amidst the spray. On the 16th they were compelled to carry the tow-line fully a hundred feet above the water to get it ahead. At another portage the rope broke and the boat was instantly thrown out into the rapid by the fierce current. Fortunately she was not capsized, and they managed again to secure her and make a second attempt, which succeeded. Climbing to the top of the granite they discovered it was comparatively level, and they believed they could travel over it, if necessary, as far as Diamond Creek. The rations for some time had to be dealt out on allowance, and at night, for safety, Wheeler put the entire stock under his head as a pillow. On the 17th they met with particularly bad rapids, one with a fall of ten and a half feet where the river was only thirty-five feet wide. The force of such pent-up waters may be imagined. The party had here one advantage over the river farther north, at this season; it was much warmer in this part of the Grand Canyon.

"Each day," writes Wheeler of this portion, "seems like an age, and the danger of complete disaster stares one so plainly in the face that a state of uneasiness naturally prevails." On the 18th, at one of the descents, a boat was again torn loose, and Gilbert and Salmon were thrown into the raging waters. They fortunately succeeded in getting out, and the party pushed ahead, making three and one-half miles. The boats were now in a dilapidated condition, leaking badly. On October 19th two messengers were started, by way of the summit of the granite, to Diamond Creek to catch the relief party there, and return with some food. Meanwhile Wheeler planned, if no relief came, to abandon the river on the 22nd, but on the evening of that same day, having made six miles up the river, the party had the joy of finally reaching Diamond Creek with the two boats. Wheeler had succeeded in a well-nigh hopeless task.

"The land party had left at ten in the morning," so Gilbert writes me, "and their camp was reached by our messengers on foot at 1 p.m. These facts were announced to us by a note one of our messengers sent down the river on a float." A number of the boat party were then sent out to the rendezvous camp, while the remainder turned about and began the perilous descent, having now to do just what would have been necessary if the start had been made from Diamond Creek. Mohave was reached in safety ON THE EVENING OF THE FIFTH DAY, whereas it had required about four weeks of extremely hard work to make the same distance against the current.

This is all the comment necessary on the two methods. The whole party that reached Diamond Creek was as follows: Lieutenant Wheeler, G. K.

Gilbert, P. W. Hamel, T. H. O'Sullivan, E. M. Richardson, Frank Hec.o.x, Wm. George Salmon, R. W. James, Thos. Hoagland, George Phifer, Wm.

Roberts, Privates Drew, Flynn, and Keegan, and six Mohaves, making twenty in all.

"The exploration of the Colorado River," says Wheeler, "may now be considered complete." The question may fairly be asked, Why was the exploration now any more complete than it was before Wheeler made this unnecessary trip? Powell, two years before, had been through the part ascended, and Wheeler, so far as I can determine, added little of value to what was known before. If he thought Powell had not completed the work of exploration, as his words imply, the exploration was still not complete, for there remained the distance to the Little Colorado, and to the Paria, and so on up to the source of the river, which Wheeler had not been over. If he accepted Powell's exploration ABOVE Diamond Creek, why did he not accept it below? His nerve and luck in accomplishing the ascent to Diamond Creek deserve great praise, but the trip itself cannot be considered anything but a needless waste of energy.

Meanwhile, as noted in the last chapter, our own party had pa.s.sed the Crossing of the Fathers, had arrived at the mouth, of the Paria, and, according to our plans, had cached our boats there for the winter while we proceeded to inaugurate our land work of triangulation. A number of us were left for a while in camp in a valley lying between the Kaibab Plateau, then called Buckskin Mountain, and what is now called Paria Plateau, at a spring in a gulch of the Vermilion Cliffs. Two large rocks at this place had fallen together in such a way that one could crawl under for shelter. This was on the old trail leading from the Mormon settlements to the Moki country, travelled about once a year by Jacob Hamblin and a party on a trading expedition to the other side of the river. Somebody on one of these trips had taken refuge beneath this rock, and on departing had written, in a facetious mood, along the top with a piece of charcoal, "Rock House Hotel." Naturally, in referring to the spring it was called, by the very few who knew it, Rock House Spring, and then the spring where the House Rock was, or House Rock Spring. From this came House Rock Valley, and the name was soon a fixture, and went on our maps. And thus easily are names established in a new country. All around were evidences of former occupation by the Puebloans, and I became greatly interested in examining the locality. At length, we were ordered across the Kaibab to the vicinity of Kanab, and I shall never fail to see distinctly the wonderful view from the summit we had of the bewildering cliff-land leading away northward to the Pink Cliffs. The lines of cliffs rose up like some giant stairway, while to the south-eastward the apparently level plain was separated by the dark line of Marble Canyon. On top of the plateau, which was covered with a fine growth of tall pines, we came about camping time to a shallow, open valley, where we decided to stay for the night. As it was on the top of the mountain Bishop recorded it in his notes as Summit Valley, and so it ever afterward remained. There was no spring, but a thin layer of snow eked out the water we had brought in kegs on the packs, and we and the animals were comfortable enough. The trail had not been travelled often, and was in places very dim, but we succeeded in following it without delay. The Kaibab, still frequently called the Buckskin Mountain, must have received this first name from its resemblance to a buckskin stretched out on the ground. The similarity is quite apparent in the relief map opposite page 41. As it was the home of the Kaibab band of Pai Utes, Powell decided to rename it after them. We arrived within eight miles of Kanab, where we made a headquarters camp at a fine spring, and trips from here and from a camp made later nearer Kanab were extended into the surrounding country. The Mormons had a year or two before come out from the St. George direction and established this new settlement of Kanab, composed then of a stockaded square of log houses and some few neat adobe houses outside; about fifty in all. The settlement was growing strong enough to scatter itself somewhat about the site marked off for the future town. One of the first things the Mormons always did in establishing a new settlement was to plant fruit and shade trees, and vines, and the like, so that in a very few years there was a condition of comfort only attained by a non-Mormon settlement after the lapse of a quarter of a century.

In the valley below Kanab a base line was measured nine miles long, and from this starting-point our work of triangulating the country was carried on. Trips with pack-trains to establish geodetic stations and examine the lay of the land were made in all directions. Of course the reader understands that up to this time no map had been made of this vast region north of the Colorado, and that many parts of it were entirely unknown. The Mormons had traversed certain districts, but they only knew their own trails and roads and had as yet not had time to carry on any unnecessary examinations away from the lines they travelled. Some of our experiences were interesting, but I have not the s.p.a.ce here for recording many of them. It was my first winter out of doors, and sleeping in snow-storms and all kinds of weather was a novelty, though the climate is fine and dry. It was only in the higher regions that we encountered much snow, yet the temperature in the valleys was quite cold enough. In leading the open-air life from summer to winter and to summer again, the system becomes adjusted, and one does not suffer as much as at first glance would seem probable; in fact, one suffers very little if any, provided there are plenty of good food and warm clothing.

On one occasion, when we were coming away from a snowy experience in the Uinkaret Mountains, we were enveloped in a severe flurry one morning soon after starting. When we had gone about a mile and a half, the whole world seemed to terminate. The air was dense with the fast-falling, snowflakes, and all beyond a certain line was white fog, up, down, and sideways. A halt was imperative, as we knew not which way to turn except back, and that was not our direction. Descending from our horses we stepped out in the direction of the illimitable whiteness, only to find that there was nothing there to travel on. The only thing to do was to camp, which we did forthwith. By our holding up a blanket at the four corners, and chopping some dry wood out of the side of a dead tree, Andy was able to a start a fire, and we waited for atmospheric developments.

Presently there were rifts in the white, and as we looked we could discern, far, far below our position, another land. As the storm broke away more and more, it was seen that we had arrived at the edge of a cliff with a sheer drop of one thousand feet. At last we were able to go on and hunted for a way to descend, which we did not find. Consequently we continued northwards and finally, on the second day, met with a waggon-track which we followed, reaching at last the edge where the cliff could be descended by way of a waggon-road the Mormons had cut out of the face for a mile and a quarter. This was the Hurricane Ledge, which extends across the country northwards from the Uinkaret Mountains to the Virgen River. Its course is well seen on the map opposite page 41, and also on the one on page 37. As the traveller comes to Hurricane Hill, the northern limit, from which the whole cliff takes its name, he has before him one of the most extraordinary views in all that region, if not in the world. Even the Grand Canyon itself is hardly more wonderful. To the right and below us lay the fair green fields of Toquerville, on the opposite side of the Virgen, and all around was such a labyrinth of mountains, canyons, cliffs, hills, valleys, rocks, and ravines, as fairly to make one's head swim. I think that perhaps, of all the views I have seen in the West, this was one of the weirdest and wildest. From Berry Spring in this valley a party of us returned to the Uinkaret district by following the country to the west of the Hurricane Ledge. On this occasion we again climbed Mt. Trumbull and some of the others of the group; and Dodds and I descended at the foot of the Toroweap to the river at the rapid called Lava Falls. It was a difficult climb.

In triangulating I often had occasion to take the bearings of two large b.u.t.tes lying to the north-west, and in order that my recorder could put down the readings so that I might identify them later I was obliged to give him t.i.tles for these. They had no names in our language, and I did not know the native ones, so, remembering that at the foot of one I had found some ant-hills covered with beautiful diamond-like quartz crystals, I called it Diamond b.u.t.te, and the other, having a dark, weird, forbidding look, I named on the spur of the moment Solitaire b.u.t.te. These names being used by the other members of the corps, they became fixtures and are now on all the maps. I had no idea at that time of their becoming permanent. This was also the case with a large b.u.t.te on the east side of Marble Canyon, which I had occasion to sight to from the Kaibab. It stood up so like a great altar, and, having in my mind the house-building Amerinds who had formerly occupied the country, and whom the Pai Utes called Shinumo, I called it Shinumo Altar, the name it now bears. Probably there are people who wonder where the altar is from which it was named. It was the appearance that suggested the t.i.tle, not any archaeological find. Once when we were in the Uinkaret country, Powell came in from a climb to the summit of what he named Mt. Logan, and said he had just seen a fine mountain off to the south-west which he would name after me. Of course I was much pleased at having my name thus perpetuated. The mountain turned out to be the culminating point of the Shewits Plateau. None of us visited it at that time, but Thompson went there later, and I crossed its slopes twice several years afterward. On the summit is a circular ruin about twenty feet in diameter with walls remaining two feet high.

It will be remembered that we had left one of our boats near the mouth of the Dirty Devil River. A party was to go overland to that point and bring this boat down to the Paria, and on the 25th of May (1872) Thompson started at the head of the party to try to explore a way in to the mouth of the Dirty Devil, at the same time investigating the country lying in between and examining the Unknown or Dirty Devil Mountains which had been seen from the river, just west of the course of the Dirty Devil River, now named Fremont River. We went west to a ranch called Johnson after the owner, thence north-westerly, pa.s.sing the little Mormon settlement of Clarkson, and then struck out into the wilderness.

Keeping a north-westerly course we crossed the upper waters of the Paria and made our way to the head of a stream flowing through what was called Potato Valley, and which the party of the previous year had followed down, endeavouring to find a trail by which to bring rations to us, under the impression that it was the head of the Dirty Devil. We also turned our course down it with the same idea. We had taken with us a Pai Ute guide whom we called Tom, but as we advanced into this region so far from his range, Tom got nervous and wanted to go back, and we saw him no more till our return. Six years before a Mormon reconnoitring party had penetrated as far as this, and in one place en route we pa.s.sed the spot where one of their number who had been killed by the Utes had been buried. The grave had been dug out by the wolves, and a few whitened bones lay scattered around. It was a place where there was no water and we could not stop to reinter them. Several days after this we reached a point where progress seemed to be impossible in that direction, and Thompson and Dodds climbed up on high ground to reconnoitre. When they came back they said we were not on the headwaters of the Dirty Devil at all, and would be obliged to change our course completely. The Dirty Devil entered the Colorado on the other side of the Unknown Range and the stream we were on joined it on this side, the west, therefore it was plain that we had made a mistake. Accordingly, our steps were retraced to a point where we managed to ascend to the slopes of what is now called the Aquarius Plateau. Three men were sent back to Kanab after more rations, while Thompson with the other six pushed on around the slopes, trying to find a way to cross the labyrinth of canyons to the Unknown Mountains. On the 9th of June we were at an alt.i.tude of ten thousand feet above sea-level, with all the wilderness of canyons, cliffs, and b.u.t.tes between us and the Colorado spreading below like a map, or rather like some kaleidoscopic phantasm. The slopes we were crossing were full of leaping torrents and clear lakes. They were so covered with these that the plateau afterwards was given the name Aquarius. Beaman, who had been photographer on our river trip, had left us, and we now had a new man from Salt Lake, named Fennemore. He was a frail man and the trip was almost too much for him. Down below we saw the smokes of native fires in several places, but we could not tell by what tribe they were made. At last we came to a point where the plateau broke back to the north, and we paused to search for a way to continue.

I was sent out in one direction with one man, and Thompson went in another. I had not gone half a mile before I found an old trail which had very recently been travelled by natives, and when I had followed it far enough to get its trend, and as far as I dared, for I feared running on the camp at any point, I returned to report. Thompson decided to take this trail. It led us across strange country, and in one place for a long distance over barren sandstone into a peculiar valley. Here we camped about three miles from a great smoke, and the next morning ran right on top of a Ute encampment. At first we expected trouble, but there were only seven of the warriors, and they were, as we learned later, out of powder, so when they sighted us they disappeared. At last they returned, and we had a talk with them, trying to induce one to go with us as guide. They described the trails, but refused to go along.

We camped one night near them, and then went on, arriving finally, after a great deal of trouble at the Unknown Mountains, since called the Henry Mountains, having taken a wrong trail. At one place we were obliged to take the whole packtrain up a cliff fifteen hundred feet high, making a trail as we went. On the top were some water-pockets. We watered the stock at one of these the next morning, when we were obliged fairly to lift the horses out of the gulch by putting our shoulders to their haunches. At last, however, we got to the mountains, and though it was now the 17th of June water froze one half inch thick in the kettles in our camp about fifteen hundred feet up the slopes. Thompson climbed one of the mountains, and I started up another, but my companion gave out.

We crossed through a pa.s.s, and on the 22d, after pursuing a winding and difficult road through canyons, succeeded in getting the whole train down to the Colorado a short distance below the mouth of the Dirty Devil. The Colorado was high, and swept along majestically. We found it had been up as far as the Canonita, and had almost washed away one of the oars. We soon ran her down to our camp, and there put her in order for the journey, which from here to the Paria could be nothing more than a pleasure trip. Thompson, Dodds, and Andy left the rest of us and returned on the trail towards Kanab. Those left for the boat's crew besides myself were Hillers, Fennemore, the photographer, and W. D.

Johnson. The latter was from Kanab, and was a Mormon, as was also the photographer, and both were fine fellows. The river was at flood and we had an easy time of it so far as travelling was concerned. Our investigations and photographing sometimes consumed half a day, but in the other half we made good progress, eight or nine miles without trying. The rations were limited in variety, but were abundant of their kind, being almost entirely bread and black coffee. When we tried, we made great runs, one day easily accomplishing about forty miles. The San Juan was now a powerful stream, as we saw on pa.s.sing. At the Music Temple we camped, and I cut Hillers's and my name on the rocks.

Fennemore made a picture of the place, given on page 215. On the 13th of July, we reached the Paria, where we expected to find several of our party, but they were not there. We discovered that someone had come in here since our last visit, and built a house. It proved to be John D.

Lee, of Mountain Meadow Ma.s.sacre notoriety, who had established a home here for one of his two remaining wives. He called the place Lonely Dell, and it was not a misnomer. It is now known as Lee's Ferry. Mrs.

Lee proved to be an agreeable woman, and she and her husband treated us very kindly, inviting us, as we had nothing but bread and coffee, to share their table, an offer we gladly accepted. Here Johnson and Fennemore left us, going out with Lee to Kanab, and two days later we were relieved to see some of our men arrive with a large amount of supplies and mail. We then waited for the coming of Powell and Thompson with the others, when we were to cast off and run the gauntlet of the Grand Canyon.

CHAPTER XIII

A Canyon through Marble--Mult.i.tudinous Rapids--Running the Sockdologer--A Difficult Portage, Rising Water, and a Trap--The Dean Upside Down--A Close Shave--Whirlpools and Fountains--The Kanab Canyon and the End of the Voyage.