George William Curtis - "Ars Recte Vivende"

Elizabeth Davis Leavitt - "The Grasshopper Stories"

Dean S. Fansler - "Filipino Popular Tales"

William Shakespeare - "The Merry Devil"

Editorial
This paper argues that discourses of love in Ghanaian market literature for youth offer a view into complex negotiations of agency and empowerment. Drawing on Deborah Durham's notion of youth as "social `shifters'" and Francis Nyamnjoh's conception of the "interconnectedness" of agency, I take Ghanaian market literature as one specific case of how African literature for youth foregrounds questions of continuity and change as African societies enter into increasingly complex global relations. In this literature for youth, received notions of love, often constructed out of impressions from American pop and hip hop music, carry new notions of agency that compete with existing "domesticated" forms. Authors like Ike Tandoh and Evelyn Tay employ discourses of love to offer youth alternative avenues for empowerment in a context of socio-economic disenfranchizement. In a creative process of "straddling", this writing both reveals and reproduces the contradictions that obtain in youth configurations of agency.

A Canyon Voyage

F >> Frederick S. Dellenbaugh >> A Canyon Voyage




About five o'clock we were ready; everything was made snug and tight on
the boats, nothing being left out of the cabins but a camp kettle in
each standing-room for bailing, and we cast off. Each man had his
life-preserver where he could get it quickly, and the Major put his on,
for with only one arm he could not do this readily in case of necessity.
The current was swift. We were carried rapidly down to where the gorge
narrowed up with walls vertical on each side for a height of fifty to
one hundred feet. We soon dashed through a small rough rapid. A splash
of water over our bow dampened my clothes and made the air feel chilly.
The canyon was growing dim with the evening light. High above our heads
some lazy clouds were flecked with the sunset glow. Not far below the
small rapid we saw before us a complicated situation at the prevailing
stage of water, and immediately landed on the left, where there was
footing to reconnoitre. A considerable fall was divided by a rocky
island, a low mass that would be submerged with two or three feet more
water, and the river plunging down on each side boiled against the
cliffs. Between us and the island the stream was studded by immense
boulders which had dropped from the cliffs and almost like pinnacles
stood above the surface. One view was enough to show that on this stage
of water we could not safely run either side of the cataract; indeed
destruction would surely have rewarded any attempt. The right-hand
channel from the foot of the island swept powerfully across to meet the
left-hand one and together they boomed along the base of the left-hand
cliffs before swinging sharply to the right with the trend of the chasm
in that direction. There was no choice of a course. The only way was to
manoeuvre between the great boulders and keep in the dividing line of
the current till a landing could be effected on the head of the island
between the two falls. The difficulty was to avoid being drawn to either
side. Our boat went first and we succeeded, under the Major's quick eye
and fine judgment, in easily following the proposed course till the
_Dean_ began to bump on the rocks some twenty yards above the exposed
part of the island. I tested the depth of water here with an oar as Jack
pulled slowly along, the current being quite slack in the dividing line,
and as soon as practicable we jumped overboard and guided our craft
safely to the island. Prof. in the _Nell_ was equally precise, and as he
came in we waded out to catch his boat; but the _Canonita_ passed on the
wrong side of one of the pinnacles and, caught in the left current, came
near making a run of it down that side, which would have resulted
disastrously. Luckily they were able to extricate themselves and Beaman
steered in to us. Had the water been only high enough to prevent landing
on this island we would have been in a bad trap, but had it been so high
as to make navigation down the centre possible the rapid might perhaps
have been run safely.

We were now on the island, with darkness falling, and the problem was to
get off. While Prof. and the Major went down to the foot to make a plan
we sat in the diminishing light and waited. It was decided to pull the
boats down the right-hand side of the island as far as the foot of the
worst part of the right-hand rapid, and from there cut out into the tail
of waves, pulling through as quickly as we could to avoid contact with
the base of the left wall along which the current dashed. We must pull
fast enough to get across in the very short time it would take the river
to sweep us down to the crucial point. The gorge by this time was quite
sombre; even the clouds above were losing their evening colour. We must
act quickly. Our boat as usual made the first trial. As we shot out,
Jack and I bent to our oars with every muscle we possessed, the boat
headed slightly upstream, and in a few seconds we were flying along the
base of the cliffs, and so close that our starboard oars had to be
quickly unshipped to prevent their being broken. In a few seconds more
we were able to get out into the middle, and then we halted in an eddy
to wait for the other boats. They came on successfully and in the
gloaming we continued down the canyon looking for a place to camp, our
hearts much lightened with our triumph over the difficult rapid. Before
long night was full upon us and our wet clothes made us shiver. About a
mile below a warning roar dead ahead told us to make land at once, for
it would be far from prudent to attack a rapid in the dark. Fortunately
there was here room to camp on some rocks and sand on the right.
Scarcely had we become settled than a tornado broke over the canyon and
we were enveloped in a blinding whirl of rain and sand. Each man clung
to his blankets to prevent their departure and waited for the wind to
pass, which it did in less than ten minutes. The storm-clouds were
shattered and up the gorge, directly east from our position, from behind
a thousand needle-like spires that serrated the top of the cliffs, the
moon like a globe of dazzling silver rolled up with serene majesty,
flooding the canyon with a bright radiance. No moon-rise could have been
more dramatic. The storm-clouds were edged with light and the wet cliffs
sparkled and glittered as if set with jewels. Even the rapid below was
resplendent and silvery, the leaping waves and the spray scintillating
under the lustrous glare.

Morning brought a continuation of the rain, which fell in a deluge,
driving us to the shelter of a projecting ledge, from which
comparatively dry retreat we watched the rain cascades that soon began
their display. Everywhere they came plunging over the walls, all sizes,
and varying their volume with every variation in the downpour. Some
dropped a thousand feet to vanish in spray; others were broken into many
falls. By half-past eight we were able to proceed, running the rapid
without any trouble, but a wave drenched me so that all my efforts to
keep out of the rain went for nothing. By ten o'clock we had run four
more rapids, and arrived at the place the Major had named Millecrag
Bend, from the multitude of ragged pinnacles into which the cliffs
broke. On the left we camped to permit the Major and Prof. to make their
prospective climb to the top. A large canyon entered from the left,
terminating Cataract Canyon, which we credited with forty-one miles, and
in which I counted sixty-two rapids and cataracts, enough to give any
set of boatmen all the work they could desire. The Major and Prof.
reached the summit at an altitude of fifteen hundred feet. They had a
wide view over the unknown country, and saw mountains to the west with
snow on their summits. Snow in the canyons would not have surprised us
now, for the nights were cold and we had warmth only in the middle of
the day. Near our camp some caves were discovered, twenty feet deep and
nearly six feet in height, which had once been occupied by natives.
Walls had been laid across the entrances, and inside were corncobs and
other evidences usual in this region, now so well known. Pottery
fragments were also abundant. Another thing we found in the caves and
also in other places was a species of small scorpion. These venomous
creatures were always ready to strike, and somehow one got into Andy's
shoe, and when he put on the shoe he was bitten. No serious result
seemed to follow, but his general health was not so good after this for
a long time. He put tobacco on the wound and let it go. This was the
second accident to a member of the party, which now had been out four
months.

[Illustration: Narrow Canyon.

Photograph by Best Expedition, 1891.]

The last day of September found us up before daylight, and as soon as
breakfast was eaten, a small matter these days both in preparation and
consumption, we pulled away, intending to reach the mouth of the Dirty
Devil as soon as possible. The morning was decidedly autumnal, and when
we arrived at a small rapid, where we had to get overboard to help the
boats, nothing ever came harder than this cold bath, though it was
confined to our legs. Presently we saw a clear little rivulet coming in
on the left, and we ran up to that shore to examine it, hoping it was
drinkable. Like the first party, we were on the lookout for better water
to drink than the muddy Colorado. The rivulet proved to be sulphurous
and also hot, the temperature being about 91 F. We could not drink it,
but we warmed our feet by standing in the water. The walls of this new
canyon at their highest were about thirteen hundred feet, and so close
together and straight that the Major named it Narrow Canyon. Its length
is about nine miles. Through half of the next rapid we made a let-down,
running the remainder, and then, running two more below which were easy,
we could see through to the end of the canyon, and the picture framed by
the precipices was beautiful. The world seemed suddenly to open out
before us, and in the middle of it, clear and strong against a sky of
azure, accented by the daylight moon, stood the Unknown Mountains, weird
and silent in their untrodden mystery. By this token we knew that the
river of the Satanic name was near, and we had scarcely emerged from
Narrow Canyon, and noted the low bluffs of homogeneous red sandstone
which took the place of the high cliffs, when we perceived a sluggish
stream about 150 feet wide flowing through the barren sandstone on our
right. Landing on its west bank, we instantly agreed with Jack Sumner
when on the first trip he had proclaimed it a "Dirty Devil." Muddy,
alkaline, undrinkable, it slipped along between the low walls of smooth
sandstone to add its volume to that of the Colorado. Near us were the
remains of the Major's camp-fire of the other voyage, and there Steward
found a jack-knife lost at that time. At the Major's request he gave it
to him as a souvenir.

Our rising had been so early and our progress from Millecrag Bend so
easy that when our camp was established the hour was only nine o'clock,
giving us still a whole day. The Major and Prof. started off on an old
Indian trail to see if there was a way in to this place for horses, Cap.
took observations for time, and the others occupied themselves in
various ways, Andy counting the rations still left in our larder.

That night around our camp-fire we felt especially contented, for
Cataract and Narrow canyons were behind, and never would we be called
upon to battle with their rapids again. The descent from the mouth of
Grand River was 430 feet, most of it in the middle stretch of Cataract
Canyon.

[Illustration: The Mouth of Fremont River (The Dirty Devil River)

Photograph by the Brown Expedition, 1889]


FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 16: The pencil sketches I made on this trip were taken to
Washington, but I do not know what became of them.]

[Footnote 17: As mentioned in a previous footnote, the name D.
Julien--1836, was later found near this point and in two other places.
All these inscriptions appear to be on the same side of the river, the
east, and at accessible places.]

[Footnote 18: The next party to pass through this canyon was the Brown
Expedition, conducting a survey for the Denver, Colorado Canyon, and
Pacific Railway in 1889. At the first rapid they lost a raft, with
almost all their provisions, and they had much trouble. See _The Romance
of the Colorado River_, Chapter xiv. Another expedition in 1891--the
Best Expedition--was wrecked here.]




CHAPTER X

The _Canonita_ Left Behind--Shinumo Ruins--Troublesome Ledges
in the River--Alcoves and Amphitheatres--The Mouth of the San
Juan--Starvation Days and a Lookout for Rations--El Vado de
Los Padres--White Men Again--Given up for Lost--Navajo
Visitors--Peaks with a Great Echo--At the Mouth of the Paria.


Having now accomplished a distance down this turbulent river of nearly
six hundred miles, with a descent toward sea-level of 2645 feet, without
a serious accident, we were all in a happy frame of mind,
notwithstanding the exceedingly diminutive food supply that remained. We
felt that we could overcome almost anything in the line of rapids the
world might afford, and Steward declared our party was so efficient he
would be willing to "run the Gates of Hell" with them! Barring an
absence of heat Cataract Canyon had been quite a near approach to that
unwelcome entrance, and the locality of the mouth of the Dirty Devil
certainly resembled some of the more favoured portions of Satan's
notorious realm. Circumstances would prohibit our lingering here, for
our long stretch on short rations made the small amount we could allow
ourselves at each meal seem almost like nothing at all, and we were
desirous of reaching as soon as possible El Vado, something over a
hundred miles below, where our pack-train was doubtless now waiting.

The plan of leaving a boat at this place for a party to bring down,
which should penetrate the unknown country the next year and then
complete what we might now be compelled to slight, was carried out.
The _Canonita_ was chosen and the day after our arrival, Sunday,
October 1st, we ran her down a short distance on the right, and there
carried her back about two hundred feet to a low cliff and up thirty
or forty feet above the prevailing stage of water, where we hid her
under an enormous mass of rock which had so fallen from the top as to
lodge against the wall, forming a perfect shelter somewhat longer than
the boat. All of her cargo had been left at camp and we filled her
cabins and standing-rooms with sand, also piling sand and stones all
about her to prevent high water from carrying her off. When we were
satisfied that we had done our best we turned away feeling as one
might on leaving a friend, and hoping that she would be found intact
the following year. As nine o'clock only had arrived, the Major and
Jones then climbed out from this place, while Prof. with the _Nell_
ran down about a mile and a half to the mouth of a gulch on the right
where he and the Major had traced the old trail. The rest of us
returned to camp. Prof. and Cap. climbed out, after following the
trail up the gulch six miles, and they saw that it went toward the
Unknown Mountains, which now lay very near us on the west. Steward got
out by an attempt not so far up the canyon and reached an altitude of
1950 feet, where he had a clear, full view of the mountains. With his
glass he was able to study their formation and determined that lava
from below had spread out between the sedimentary strata, forming what
he called "blisters." He could see where one side of a blister had
been eroded, showing the surrounding stratification.[19]

When the Major and Jones came back we put the cargo of the _Canonita_ on
the _Dean_, and all of us embarked, seven in number, and ran down to
where the _Nell_ was moored. Here we camped for the night. The crews
were then rearranged, Beaman being assigned to my bow oars, Clem and
Andy going in the _Nell_, while I was to sit on the middle cabin of the
_Dean_ in front of the Major, where I could carry on my sketching. We
were now a shaggy-looking lot, for our clothes had been almost worn off
our bodies in the rapids. Our shoes, notwithstanding that the Major had
brought us a fresh supply at Gunnison Crossing, were about gone, and we
were tanned till we could hardly have been distinguished from the old
Shinumos themselves; but we were clean. Steward was a great lover of
Burns and could quote him by the page, though what he most liked to
repeat just now was:

"O wad some Power the giftie gie us
To see oursels as others see us!"

I think the _Address to the Deil_ would have been appropriate for this
particular environment, but I do not remember that Steward quoted:

"Hear me, auld Hangie, for a wee,
An' let poor damned bodies be;
I'm sure sma' pleasure it can gie,
E'en to the deil,
To skelp an' scaud poor dogs like me,
An' hear us squeel!"

The cargo of the _Canonita_ was distributed among the cabins of the
_Dean_ and the _Nell_, and Cap. was somewhat disturbed by having an
addition to the bow compartment in the _Nell_. Each man had charge of a
cabin and this was Cap.'s special pride. He daily packed it so
methodically that it became a standing joke with us, and we often asked
him whether he always placed that thermometer back of the fifth rib or
in front of the third, or some such nonsensical question, which of
course Cap. took in good part and only arranged his cabin still more
carefully.

The next morning, the 2d of October, at eight o'clock, we continued our
voyage, now entering a new canyon, then called Mound, but it was
afterwards consolidated with the portion below called Monument, and
together they now stand as Glen Canyon. In about three and one half
miles we ran several sharp little rapids, but they were not of much
consequence, and we stopped to examine a house ruin we saw standing up
boldly on a cliff on the left. It could be seen for a long distance in
both directions, and correspondingly its inmates in the old days could
see every approach. Doubtless the trail we had seen on the right had its
exit on the other side near it. The walls, neatly built of thin
sandstone slabs, still stood about fifteen feet high and fifteen inches
thick. The dimensions on the ground were 12 x 22 feet outside. It had
been of two or three stories, and exhibited considerable skill on the
part of the builders, the corners being plumb and square. Under the
brink of the cliff was a sort of gallery formed by the erosion of a soft
shale between heavy sandstone beds, forming a floor and roof about eight
or ten feet wide, separated by six or seven feet in vertical height. A
wall had been carried along the outer edge, and the space thus made was
divided by cross walls into a number of rooms. Potsherds and
arrow-heads, mostly broken ones, were strewn everywhere. There were also
numerous picture-writings, of which I made copies.

As we pulled on and on the Major frequently recited selections from the
poets, and one that he seemed to like very much, and said sometimes half
in reverie, was Longfellow's:

"Often I think of the beautiful town
That is seated by the sea;
Often in thought go up and down
The pleasant streets of that dear old town,
And my youth comes back to me.
And a verse of a Lapland song
Is haunting my memory still:
'A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.'"

He would repeat several times, with much feeling:

"A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

Another thing he enjoyed repeating was Whittier's _Skipper Ireson's
Ride_:

"Old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart,
Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart
By the women of Marblehead!"

Towards evening we came to another Shinumo ruin, where we made camp,
having run altogether sixteen miles, with ten rapids, all small, between
walls of red, homogeneous sandstone, averaging about one thousand feet
in height. The river, some three hundred and fifty feet wide, was low,
causing many shoals, which formed the small rapids. We often had to wade
alongside to lighten the boats, but otherwise these places were easy. A
trifle more water would have done away with them, or at least would have
enabled us to ignore them completely. The house ruin at our camp was
very old and broken down and had dimensions of about 20 x 30 feet. Prof.
climbed out to a point 1215 feet above the river, where he saw plainly
the Unknown Mountains, Navajo Mountain, and a wide sweep of country
formed largely of barren sandstone. Steward felt considerably under the
weather and remained as quiet as possible.

In the morning we were quickly on the water, pushing along under
conditions similar to those of the previous day, making twenty-seven
miles and passing eleven very small rapids, with a river four hundred
feet wide and the same walls of homogeneous red sandstone about one
thousand feet high. The cliffs in the bends were often slightly
overhanging, that is, the brink was outside of a perpendicular line,
but the opposite side would then generally be very much cut down,
usually to irregular, rounded slopes of smooth rock. The vertical
portions were unbroken by cracks or crevices or ledges, being extensive
flat surfaces, beautifully stained by iron, till one could imagine all
manner of tapestry effects. Along the river there were large patches of
alluvial soil which might easily be irrigated, though it is probable
that at certain periods they would be rapidly cut to pieces by high
water.

Prof. again climbed out at our noon camp, and saw little but naked
orange sandstone in rounded hills, except the usual mountains. In the
barren sandstone he found many pockets or pot-holes, a feature of this
formation, often thirty or forty feet deep, and frequently containing
water. Wherever we climbed out in this region we saw in the depressions
flat beds of sand, surrounded by hundreds of small round balls of stone
an inch or so in diameter, like marbles--concretions and hard fragments
which had been driven round and round by the winds till they were quite
true spheres.[20]

The next day, October 4th, we ran into a stratum of sandstone shale,
which at this low stage of water for about five miles gave us some
trouble. Ledge after ledge stretched across the swift river, which at
the same time spread to at least six hundred feet, sometimes one
thousand. We were obliged to walk in the water alongside for great
distances to lighten the boats and ease them over the ridges.
Occasionally the rock bottom was as smooth as a ballroom floor; again it
would be carved in the direction of the current into thousands of
narrow, sharp, polished ridges, from three to twelve inches apart, upon
which the boats pounded badly in spite of all exertions to prevent it.
The water was alternately shallow and ten feet deep, giving us all we
could do to protect the boats and at the same time avoid sudden duckings
in deep water. With all our care the _Nell_ got a bad knock, and leaked
so fast that one man continually bailing could barely keep the water
out. We repaired her at dinner-time, and, the shales running up above
the river, we escaped further annoyance from this cause. Even with this
interference our progress was fairly good, and by camping-time we had
made twenty-one miles.

We had a rapid shallow river again the following day, October 5th, but
the water was not so widely spread out and there were fewer delays. The
walls were of orange sandstone, strangely cut up by narrow side canyons
some not more than twenty feet wide and twisting back for a quarter of a
mile where they expanded into huge amphitheatres, domed and cave-like.
Alcoves filled with trees and shrubs also opened from the river, and
numerous springs were noted along the cliffs. Twelve miles below our
camp we passed a stream coming in on the left through a canyon about one
thousand feet deep, similar to that of the Colorado. This was the San
Juan, now shallow and some eight rods wide. We did not stop till noon
when we were two miles below it near one of the amphitheatres or
grottoes to which the first party had given the name of "Music Temple."
The entrance was by a narrow gorge which after some distance widened at
the bottom to about five hundred feet in diameter leaving the upper
walls arching over till they formed a dome-shaped cavern about two
hundred feet high with a narrow belt of sky visible above. In the
farther end was a pool of clear water, while five or six green
cottonwoods and some bushes marked the point of expansion. One side was
covered with bright ferns, mosses, and honeysuckle. Every whisper or
cough resounded. This was only one of a hundred such places but we had
no time to examine them. On a smooth space of rock we found carved by
themselves the names of Seneca Howland, O. G. Howland, and William Dunn,
the three men of the first party who were killed by the Shewits in 1869.
Prof. climbed up eight hundred feet and had a fine view of Navajo
Mountain which was now very near. We then chiefly called it Mount
Seneca Howland, applied by the Major in memory of that unfortunate
person but later, the peak already having to some extent been known as
Navajo Mountain, that name was finally adopted. No one had ever been to
it, so far as we knew, and the Major was desirous of reaching the
summit.

[Illustration: Glen Canyon.

Photograph by E. O. Beaman, 1871.]

Leaving the Music Temple, which seemed to us a sort of mausoleum to the
three men who had marked it with their names, we soon arrived at a
pretty rapid with a clear chute. It was not large but it was the only
real one we had seen in this canyon and we dashed through it with
pleasure. Just below we halted to look admiringly up at Navajo Mountain
which now loomed beside us on the left to an altitude of 10,416 feet
above sea level or more than 7100 feet above our position, as was later
determined. The Major contemplated stopping long enough for a climb to
the top but on appealing to Andy for information as to the state of the
supplies he found we were near the last crust and he decided that we had
better pull on as steadily as possible towards El Vado. We ran down a
considerable distance through some shallows and camped on the left
having accomplished about twenty miles in the day towards our goal. Here
the remaining food was divided into two portions, one for supper, the
other for breakfast in the morning. Though we were running so close to
the starvation line we felt no great concern about it. We always had
confidence in our ability somehow to get through with success. Andy,
particularly, never failed in his optimism. Generally he took no
interest in the nature of a rapid, lying half asleep while the others
examined the place, and entirely willing to run anything or make a
portage or even swim; he cared not. "Nothing ever happens to any outfit
I belong to," he would declare shifting to an easier position, "Let her
go!" and now so far as Andy's attitude was concerned we might have
possessed unlimited rations. Jack lightened the situation yet more with
his jolly songs and humorous expressions and no one viewing that camp
would have thought the ten men had before them a possibility of several
days without food, except what they might kill in the barren country,
and perhaps a walk from El Vado over an unknown trail about one hundred
miles out to Kanab. In the morning, Friday, October 6th, we got away as
quickly as we could and pulled down the river hoping that El Vado was
not far ahead and feeling somewhat as Escalante must have felt a century
before when he was trying to find it. He had the advantage of having
horses which could be eaten from time to time. Of course we knew from
the position of the San Juan and of Navajo Mountain, that we could reach
El Vado in at most two days, but the question was, "would we find any
one there with rations?" The Major apparently was unconcerned. He told
me a story about a farmer's son in his neighbourhood when himself a boy
who had no shoes, no good clothes, no decent hat, but who went to the
father and declared he wanted a "buzzum pin," and nothing but a buzzum
pin would he have, though his parent called his attention to his lack of
other necessaries, one after the other. "No Pa," the boy would repeat "I
want a buzzum pin."

Copyright (c) 2007. topboookz.com. All rights reserved.