Here in the river was a cataract, called Lava Falls, so filled with jagged pieces of the black rock that a portage was advisable. The weather had not moderated any in the last week, and we were in the water a great deal as we lifted and lined the boats over the rocks at the edge of the rapids. We would work in the water until numbed with the cold, then would go down to the warm springs and thaw out for a while. This was a little quicker than standing by the fire, but the relief was only temporary. This portage was finished the next morning.

Another portage was made this same day, and the wide canyon where Major Powell found some Indian gardens was pa.s.sed in the afternoon.

The Indians were not at home when the Major called. His party felt they were justified in helping themselves to some pumpkins or squash, for their supplies were very low, and they could not go out to a settlement--as we expected to do in a day or two--and replenish them.

We found the fish would not bite, just as our friend, the miner, had said, but we did succeed in landing a fourteen-pound salmon, in one of the deep pools not many miles from this point, and it was served up in steaks the next day. If our method of securing the salmon was unsportsmanlike, we excused ourselves for the methods used, just as Major Powell justified his appropriation of the Indians' squash. If that fish was ever needed, it was then, and it was a most welcome addition to our rapidly disappearing stock of provisions. We were only sorry we had not taken more "bait."

The next day we did see a camp-fire, and on climbing the sh.o.r.e, found a little old prospector, clad in tattered garments, sitting in a little dugout about five feet square which he had shovelled out of the sand. He had roofed it with mesquite and an old blanket. A rapid, just below, made so much noise that he did not hear us until we were before his door. He looked at the rubber coats and the life-preservers, then said, with a matter-of-fact drawl, "Well, you fellows must have come by the river!" After talking awhile he asked: "What do you call yourselves?" This question would identify him as an old-time Westerner if we did not already know it. At one time it was not considered discreet to ask any one in these parts what their name was, or where they were from. He gave us a great deal of information about the country, and said that Diamond Creek was about six miles below. He had come across from Diamond Creek by a trail over a thousand foot ridge, with a burro and a pack mule, a month before. He had just been out near the top on the opposite side, doing some a.s.sessment work on some copper claims, crossing the river on a raft, and stated that on a previous occasion he had been drawn over the rapid, but got out.

When he learned that we had come through Utah, he stated that he belonged near Vernal, and had once been upset in the upper canyons, about twenty years before. He proved to be the Snyder of whom we had heard at Linwood, and also from the Chews, who had given him a horse so he could get out over the mountains. Yet here was, a thousand miles below, cheerful as a cricket, and sure that a few months at the most would bring him unlimited wealth. He asked us to "share his chuck"

with him, but we could see nothing but a very little flour, and a little bacon, so pleaded haste and pushed on for Diamond Creek.

The mouth of this canyon did not look unlike others we had seen in this section, and one could easily pa.s.s it without knowing that it ran back with a gentle slope for twenty miles, and that a wagon road came down close to the river. It contained a small, clear stream. The original tourist camp in the Grand Canyon was located up this canyon.

We packed all our plates and films, ready to take them out. The supplies left in the boats when we went out the next morning were:

5 pounds of flour, partly wet and crusted.

2 pounds mildewed Cream of Wheat.

3 or 4 cans (rusty) of dried beef.

Less than one pound of sugar.

We carried a lunch out with us. This was running a little too close for comfort.

The mouth of Diamond Creek Canyon was covered with a growth of large mesquite trees. Cattle trails wound through this th.o.r.n.y thicket down to the river's edge. The trees thinned out a short distance back, and the canyon widened as it receded from the river. A half mile back from the river was the old slab building that had served as headquarters for the campers. Here the canyon divided, one containing the small stream heading in the high walls to the southeast; while the other branch ran directly south, heading near the railroad at the little flag-station of Peach Springs, twenty-three miles distant.

It was flat-bottomed, growing wider and more valley-like with every mile, but not especially interesting to one who had seen the glory of all the canyons. Floods had spoiled what had once been a very pa.s.sable stage road, dropping 4000 feet in twenty miles, down to the very depths of the Grand Canyon. Some cattle, driven down by the snows, were sunning themselves near the building. Our appearance filled them with alarm, and they "high tailed it" to use a cattle man's expression, scampering up the rocky slopes.

A deer's track was seen in a snow-drift away from the river. On the sloping walls in the more open sections of this valley grew the stubby-thorned chaparral. The hackberry and the first specimens of the palo verde were found in this vicinity. The mesquite trees seen at the mouth of the canyon were real trees--about the size of a large apple tree--not the small bushes we had seen at the Little Colorado. All the growth was changing as we neared the lower alt.i.tudes and the mouth of the Grand Canyon, being that of the hot desert, which had found this artery or avenue leading to the heart of the rocky plateaus and had pushed its way into this foreign land.

Even the animal life of the desert has followed this same road.

Occasional Gila monsters, which are supposed to belong to the hot desert close to the Mexico line, have been found at Diamond Creek, and lizards of the Mojave Desert have been seen as far north as the foot of Bright Angel Trail.

But we saw little animal life at this time. There were occasional otters disporting themselves near our boats, in one instance unafraid, in another raising a gray-bearded head near our boat with a startled look in his eyes. Then he turned and began to swim on the surface until our laughter caused him to dive. Tracks of the civet-cat or the ring-tailed cat--that large-eyed and large-eared animal, somewhat like a racc.o.o.n and much resembling a weasel--were often seen along the sh.o.r.es. The gray fox, the wild-cat, and the coyote, all natives of this land, kept to the higher pinon-covered hills. The beaver seldom penetrates into the deep canyons because of the lack of vegetation, but is found in all sections in the open country from the headwaters to the delta in Mexico.

We went out by this canyon on January the 5th, and returned Sunday, January the 8th, bringing enough provisions to last us to the end of the big canyon. We imagined we would have no trouble getting what we needed in the open country below that. We sent some telegrams and received encouraging answers to them before returning. With us were two brothers, John and Will Nelson, cattle men who had given us a cattle man's welcome when we arrived at Peach Springs. There was no store at Peach Springs, and they supplied us with the provisions that we brought back. They drove a wagon for about half the distance, then the roads became impa.s.sable, so they unhitched and packed their bedding and our provisions in to the river. The Nelsons were anxious to see us run a rapid or two.

We found the nights to be just as cold on top as they ever get in this section--a little below zero--although the midday sun was warm enough to melt the snow and make it slushy. I arrived at the river with my feet so swollen that I had difficulty in walking, a condition brought on by a previous freezing they had received, being wet continually by the icy water in my boat--which was leaking badly since we left Bright Angel--and the walk out through the slush. I was glad there was little walking to do when once at the river, and changed my shoes for arctics, which were more roomy and less painful.

On the upper part of our trip there were occasional days when Emery was not feeling his best, while I had been most fortunate and had little complaint to make; now things seemed to be reversed. Emery, and Bert too, were having the time of their lives, while I was "getting mine" in no small doses.[6]

We had always imagined that the Grand Canyon lost its depth and impressiveness below Diamond Creek. We were to learn our mistake. The colour was missing, that was true, for the marble and sandstone walls were brown, dirty, or colourless, with few of the pleasing tones of the canyon found in the upper end. But it was still the Grand Canyon.

We were in the granite again--granite just as deep as any we had seen above, it may have been a little deeper, and in most cases it was very sheer. There was very little plateau, the limestone and sandstone rose above that, just as they had above Kanab Canyon. The light-coloured walls could not be seen.

Many of the rapids of this lower section were just as bad as any we had gone over; one or two have been considered worse by different parties. Two hours after leaving the Nelsons we were halted by a rapid that made us catch our breath. It was in two sections--the lower one so full of jagged rocks that it meant a wrecked boat. The upper part fell about twenty feet we should judge and was bad enough. It was a question if we could run this and keep from going over the lower part!

If we made a portage, our boats would have to be taken three or four hundred feet up the side of the cliff. The rapid was too strong to line a boat down. We concluded to risk running the first part. Bert climbed to the head of the second section of the rapid, where a projecting point of granite narrowed the stream, and formed a quiet eddy just above the foaming plunge. If we could keep out of the centre and land here we would be safe. Our shoes were removed, our trousers were rolled to our knees and we removed our coats. If we had to swim there, we were going to be prepared. The life-preservers were well inflated, and tied; then we made the plunge, Emery taking the lead, I following close behind. Our plan was to keep as near the sh.o.r.e as possible. Once I thought it was all over when I saw the _Edith_ pulled directly for a rock in spite of all Emery could do to pull away.

Nothing but a rebounding wave saved him. I went through the same experience. Several times we were threatened with an upset, but we landed in safety. The portage was short and easy. Flat granite rocks were covered with a thin coat of ice. The boats were unloaded and slid across, then dropped below the projecting rock. The _Defiance_ skidded less than two feet and struck a projecting k.n.o.b of rock the size of a goose egg. It punctured the side close to the stern, fortunately above the water line, and the wood was not entirely broken away.

Two miles below this we found another bad one. This was lined while Bert got supper up in a little sloping canyon; about as uncomfortable a camp as we had found. Many of the rapids run the next day were violent. The river seemed to be trying to make up for lost time. We pa.s.sed a canyon coming from the south containing two streams, one clear, and one muddy. The narrowest place we had seen on the river was a rapid run this day, not over forty feet wide. Evening brought us to a rapid with a lateral canyon coming in from each side, that on the right containing a muddy stream. The walls were sheer and jagged close to the rapid, with a break on the rugged slopes here and there. A sloping rock in the middle of the stream could be seen in the third section of the rapid. This was Separation Rapid, the point where the two Howland brothers and Dunn parted company with Major Powell and his party.

From our camp at the left side we could easily figure out a way to the upper plateau. Above that they would have a difficult climb as far as we could tell. That they did reach the top is well known. They met a tragic fate. The second day after getting out they were killed by some Indians--the Shewits Utes--who had treated them hospitably at first and provided them with something to eat. That night a visiting Indian brought a tale of depredations committed by some miners against another section of their tribe. These men were believed to be the guilty parties, and they were ambushed the next morning. Their fate remained a mystery for a year; then a Ute was seen with a watch belonging to one of the men. Later a Mormon who had a great deal of influence with the Indians got their story from them, and reported to Major Powell what he had learned. It was a deplorable and a tragic ending to what otherwise was one of the most successful, daring, and momentous explorations ever undertaken on this continent.

We find there is a current belief that it was cowardice and fear of this one rapid that caused these men to separate from the party. The more one hears of this separation, the more it seems that it was a difference of opinion on many matters, and not this one rapid, that caused them to leave. These men had been trappers and hunters, one might say pioneers, and one had been with Major Powell before the river exploration. They had gone through all the canyons, and had come through this far without a fatality. They had seen a great many rapids nearly as bad as this, and several that were worse, if one could judge by its nature when we found it. They were not being carried by others, but had charge of one boat. They did smash one boat in Disaster Rapid in Lodore Canyon, and at that time they claimed Major Powell gave them the wrong signal. This caused some feeling.

At the time of the split, the food question was a serious one. There were short rations for a long time; in fact there was practically no food. After an observation, Major Powell informed them that they were within forty-five miles of the Virgin River, in a direct line. Much of the country between the end of the canyon and the Virgin River was open, a few Mormon settlements could be found up the Virgin Valley. He offered them half of the small stock of provisions, when they persisted in leaving, but they refused to take any provisions whatever, feeling sure that they could kill enough game to subsist on.

This one instance would seem to be enough to clear them of the stigma of cowardice. The country on top was covered with volcanic cinders.

There was little water to be found, and in many ways it was just as inhospitable as the canyon. The cook had a pan of biscuits, which he left on a rock for them, after the men had helped the party lift the boats over the rocks at the head of the rapid. After landing in safety around a bend which hid them from sight, the boating party fired their guns, hoping they would hear the report, and follow in the abandoned boat. It is doubtful if they could hear the sound of the guns, above the roar of the rapid. If they did, they paid no attention to it. The younger Howland wished to remain with the party, but threw his lot with his brother, when he withdrew.

While these men did not have the Major's deep scientific interest in the successful completion of this exploration, they undoubtedly should have stayed with their leader, if their services were needed or desired. It is more than likely that they were insubordinate; they certainly made a misguided attempt, but in spite of these facts it scarcely seems just to brand them as cowards. Two days after they left, the boating party was camped at the end of the canyons.

CHAPTER XXIII

THE LAST PORTAGE AND THE LAST RAPIDS

The first section of Separation Rapid was run the first thing in the morning, a manoeuvre that was accomplished by starting on the left sh.o.r.e and crossing the swift centre clear to the other sh.o.r.e. This allowed us to reach some quiet water near a small deposit of rock and earth at the base of the sheer wall. Two feet of water would have covered this deposit; likewise two feet of water would have given us a clear channel over this second section. As it was, the rapid was rough, with many rocks very near the surface. Directly across from us, close to the left sh.o.r.e, was what looked like a ten-foot geyser, or fountain of water. This was caused by a rock in the path of a strong current rebounding from the sh.o.r.e. The water ran up on the side near the wall, then fell on all sides. It was seldom the water had force enough to carry to the top of a rock as large as that. This portage of the second section was one of the easiest we had made. By rolling a few large rocks around we could get a stream water across our small sh.o.r.e large enough to float an empty boat with a little help, so we lightened them of the cargo and floated them through our ca.n.a.l. While running the third section the _Edith_ was carried up on the sloping rock in the middle of the stream; she paused a moment, then came down like a shot and whirled around to the side without mishap. This made the thirteenth rapid in which both boats were lined or portaged. In three other rapids one boat was run through and one was portaged. Half of all these rapids were located in the Grand Canyon.

All this time we were anxiously looking forward to a rapid which Mr.

Stone had described as being the worst in the entire series, also the last rapid we would be likely to portage and had informed us that below this particular rapid everything could be run with little or no inspection. Naturally we were anxious to get that rapid behind us. It was described as being located below a small stream flowing from the south. The same rapid was described by Major Powell as having a bold, lava-capped escarpment at the head of the rapid, on the right. We had not seen any lava since leaving Diamond Creek, and an entry in my notes reads, "we have gone over Stone's 'big rapid' three times and it is still ahead of us." The knowledge that there was a big rapid in the indefinite somewhere that was likely to cause us trouble seemed to give us more anxious moments than the many unmentioned rapids we were finding all this time. We wondered how high the escarpment was, and if we could take our boats over its top. We tried to convince ourselves that it was behind us, although sure that it could not be. But the absence of lava puzzled us. After one "bad" rapid and several "good"

rapids we came to a sharp turn in the canyon. Emery was ahead and called back, "I see a little stream"; Bert joined with "I see the lava"; and the "Bold Escarpment Rapid," as we had been calling it for some time, was before us. It was more than a nasty rapid, it was a cataract!

What a din that water sent up! We had to yell to make ourselves heard.

The air vibrated with the impact of water against rock. The rapid was nearly half a mile long. There were two sections near its head staggered with great rocks, forty of them, just above or slightly submerged under the surface of the water. Our low stage of water helped us, so that we did not have to line the boats from the ledge, eighty feet above the water, as others had done. The rapid broke just below the lower end of the sheer rock, which extended twenty feet beyond the irregular sh.o.r.e. The _Edith_ went first, headed upstream, at a slight angle nearly touching the wall, dropping a few inches between each restraining stroke of the oars. Bert crouched on the bow, ready to spring with the rope, as soon as Emery pa.s.sed the wall and headed her in below the wall. Jumping to the sh.o.r.e, he took a snub around a boulder and kept her from being dragged into the rapid. Then they both caught the _Defiance_ as she swung in below the rock, and half the battle was won before we tackled the rapid.

Our days were short, and we did not take the boats down until the next day; but we did carry much of the camp material and cargo halfway down over ledges a hundred feet above the river. For a bad rapid we were very fortunate in getting past it as easily as we did. Logs were laid over rocks, the boats were skidded over them about their own length and dropped in again. Logs and boats were lined down in the swift, but less riotous water, to the next barrier, which was more difficult. A ten-foot rounded boulder lay close to the sh.o.r.e, with smaller rocks, smooth and ice-filmed, scattered between. Powerful currents swirled between these rocks and disappeared under two others, wedged closely together on top. Three times the logs were s.n.a.t.c.hed from our grasp as we tried to bridge them across this current, and they vanished in the foam, to shoot out end first, twenty feet below and race away on the leaping water. A boat would be smashed to kindling-wood if once carried under there. At last we got our logs wedged, and an hour of tugging, in which only two men could take part at the same time, landed both boats in safety below this barrier. We shot the remainder of the rapid on water so swift that the oars were s.n.a.t.c.hed from our hands if we tried to do more than keep the boats straight with the current. That rapid was no longer the "Bold Escarpment," but the "Last Portage" instead, and it was behind us.

The afternoon was half gone when we made ready pull away from the Last Portage. There were other rapids, but scarcely a pause was made in our two-hour run, and we camped away from the roar of water. The canyon was widening out a little at a time; the granite disappeared in the following day's run, at noon. Gra.s.s-covered slopes, with seeping mineral springs, took the place of precipitous walls; they dropped to 2500 feet in height; numerous side canyons cut the walls in regular sections like gigantic city blocks, instead of an unbroken avenue.

Small rapids continued to appear, there were a few small islands, and divided currents, so shallow they sometimes kept us guessing which one to take, but we continued to run them all without a pause. We would have run out of the canyon that day but for one thing. Five mountain-sheep were seen from our boats in one of the sloping gra.s.sy meadows above the river. We landed below, carried our cameras back, and spent half an hour in trying to see them again, but they had taken alarm.

Placer claim locations and fresh burro tracks were seen in the sand at our last Grand Canyon camp, and a half mile below us we could see out into open country. We found the walls, or the end of the table-land, to be about two thousand feet high, with the canyon emerging at a sharp angle so that a narrow ridge, or "hogs-back" lay on the left side of the stream. Once out in the open the walls were seen to be quite steep, but could be climbed to the top almost any place without trouble. Sat.u.r.day, January the 13th, we were out of the canyon at last, and the towering walls, now friendly, now menacing, were behind us. Three hundred and sixty-five large rapids, and nearly twice as many small rapids, were behind us and the dream of ten years was an accomplished fact. But best of all, there were no tragedies or fatalities to record. Perhaps we did look a little the worse for wear, but a few days away from the river would repair all that. The boats had a b.u.mp here and there, besides the one big patch on the _Edith_; a little mending and a little caulking would put both the _Edith_ and _Defiance_ in first-cla.s.s condition.

There is little of interest to record of our 175-mile run to Needles, California. It was a land of desolation--an extension of the Mojave Desert on the south, and the alkaline flats and mineral mountains of Nevada on the north, of Death Valley and the Funeral Mountains of California to the northwest--a burned-out land of grim-looking mountains extending north and south across our way; a dried-out, washed-out, and wind-swept land of extensive flats and arroyos; a land of rock and gravel cemented in marls and clay; ungraced with any but the desert plants,--cactus and th.o.r.n.y shrubs,--with little that was pleasing or attractive. A desert land it is true, but needing only the magic touch of water to transform much of it into a garden spot. Even as it was, a few months later it would be covered with the flaming blossoms of the desert growth, which seem to try to make amends in one or two short months for nearly a year of desolation.

A wash ran along the base of the plateau from which we had emerged. An abandoned road and ferry showed that this had once been a well-travelled route. The stream had a good current and we pulled away, only stopping once to see the last of our plateau before a turn and deepening banks hid it from view. We wondered if the water ever dropped in a precipitous fall over the face of the wall and worked back, a little every year, as it does at Niagara. We could hardly doubt that there were some such falls back in the dim past when these canyons were being carved.

In the middle of the afternoon we pa.s.sed a ranch or a house with a little garden, occupied by two miners, who hailed us from the sh.o.r.e. A half-mile below was the Scanlon Ferry, a binding tie between Arizona, on the south and what was now Nevada, on the north, for we had reached the boundary line shortly after emerging from the canyon. We still travelled nearly directly west. The ferry was in charge of a Cornishman who also had as pretty a little ranch as one could expect to find in such an unlikely place. A purling stream of water, piped from somewhere up in the hills, had caused the transformation. The ranch was very homey with cattle and horses, sheep and hogs, dogs and cats, all sleek and contented-looking. The garden proved that this country had a warm climate, although we were not suffering from heat at that time. An effort was being made to grow some orange trees, but with little promise of success; there were fig trees and date-palms, with frozen dates hanging on the branches, one effect of the coldest winter they had seen in this section.

The rancher told us he could not sell us anything that had to be brought in, for it was seventy miles to the railroad, but we could look over such supplies as he had. It ended by his selling us a chicken, two dozen eggs, five pounds of honey, and ten pounds of flour,--all for $2.50. We did not leave until the next morning, then bought another jar of honey, for we had no sugar, and two-thirds of the first jar was eaten before we left the ferry.

We pulled away in such a hurry the next morning that we forgot an axe that had been carried with us for the entire journey. A five-hour run brought us to the mouth of the Virgin River, a sand-bar a mile wide, and with a red-coloured stream little larger than Cataract Creek winding through it. We had once seen this stream near its head waters, a beautiful mountain creek, that seemed to bear no relation to this repulsive-looking stream that entered from the north. A large, flat-topped, adobe building, apparently deserted, stood off at one side of the stream. This was the head of navigation for flat-bottomed steamboats that once plied between here and the towns on the lower end of the river. They carried supplies for small mines scattered through the mountains and took out cargoes of ore, and of rock salt which was mined back in Nevada.

It was here at the Virgin River that Major Powell concluded his original voyage of exploration. Some of his men took the boats on down to Fort Mojave, a few miles above Needles; afterwards two of the party continued on to the Gulf. The country below the Virgin River had been explored by several parties, but previous to this time nothing definite was known of the gorges until this exploration by this most remarkable man. The difficulties of this hazardous trip were increased for him by the fact that he had lost an arm in the Civil War.

It is usually taken for granted that the United States government was back of this exploration. This was true of the second expedition, but not of the first. Major Powell was aided to a certain extent by the State College of Illinois, otherwise he bore all the expense himself.

We received $10,000 from the government to apply on the expenses of the second trip.

We felt that we had some reason to feel a justifiable pride for having duplicated, in some ways, this arduous journey. It was impossible for us to do more than guess what must have been the feelings and anxieties of this explorer. Added to the fact that we had boats, tested and constructed to meet the requirements of the river, and the benefit of others' experiences, was a knowledge that we were not likely to be precipitated over a waterfall, or if we lost everything and succeeded in climbing out, that there were a few ranches and distant settlements scattered through the country.

But we had traversed the same river and the same canyons which change but little from year to year, and had succeeded beyond our fondest hopes in having accomplished what we set out to do.