A Canyon Voyage

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

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25

When the snow fell less heavily we could peer down and then saw that the
cliff was continuous in both directions. By half-past two, with our kegs
and canteens filled with the snow water, we were again on the way
following along to find a place to go down, but we saw none that seemed
practicable, and at last, having made altogether five miles, we halted
for the night in a grove of cedars, where we had a good fire and were
comfortable though our rations were now growing scarce. Snow at
intervals continued all day up to bedtime. The next day was Sunday. We
travelled twenty miles along the line of cliffs and camped near a canyon
in which we found pools of good water. We saw an antelope during the day
but could not get it. Andy baked up the last of our flour for supper and
put on a pot of beans and one of dried peaches to cook for breakfast.
The beans were edible in the morning and we disposed of them and the
peaches and went on our way. After a day of many ups and downs we
arrived about two o'clock at a ranch called Gould's or Workman's, where
we bought five dollars worth of corn-meal and milk. We were now on what
the inhabitants of the region called Hurricane Hill, and from this we
applied the name Hurricane Ledge to the long line of sharp cliffs we had
followed, which begin at the Virgin River and extend, almost unbroken
and eight hundred to a thousand feet high, south to the Grand Canyon,
forming the western boundary of the Uinkaret Plateau. From Gould's we
had a waggon road and following it we were led to the brink of the
Hurricane Ledge, where a road had been constructed to the bottom. Before
descending we took a final look at the enchanting view opening away to
the north and north-west. At our feet was the Virgin Valley with the
green fields of Tokerville, while beyond rose magnificent cliffs
culminating to the north-west in the giant buttes and precipices of the
Mookoontoweap, or, as the Mormons call it, Little Zion Valley. Topping
the whole sweep of magnificent kaleidoscopic topography were the Pine
Valley Mountains and the lofty cliffs of the Colob and Markargunt
plateaus. It has ever since been my opinion that few outlooks in all
the world are superior for colour and form to that stretching north from
the northern part of the Hurricane Ledge.[29]

Descending to the valley we arrived just at dusk at Berry's Spring,
where our waggon under the direction of Jones had come with supplies.
The spring was an excellent one and the rivulet flowing away from it was
bordered with large wild-rose bushes. Though the waggon and supplies
were there Jones was not, for we had expected to come in from farther
west past Fort Pierce, and he had gone on to that place to tell us where
he had decided to camp. Clem had found his gun and come out with them,
the others of the party being Fennemore and George Adair. Jones came
back the next day and prepared to start with Andy and Johnson for
several days' work in the Pine Valley Mountains, while Jack, Captain
Dodds, Fennemore, and I were to return to the Uinkaret region to
complete certain work there. Some goods to be distributed to the natives
from the Indian Bureau arrived at St. George and Prof. went there with
George Adair to have a talk with the Indians to be found, and distribute
goods. We had seen no Indians at all in the Uinkaret region. He
discovered the Shewits who came in to be afraid of us, thinking we
wanted to kill them, but they were willing to accept anything they could
get in the line of presents. Hardly any would acknowledge themselves to
be either Uinkarets or Shewits.

On April 12th, according to the plan, Jack, Dodds, Fennemore, and I
started back to the Uinkaret Mountains, following the trail we had tried
to strike coming out. It led past a place called Fort Pierce, a small
stone building the settlers had formerly used as an advance post against
the Shewits and Uinkarets. There we spent the night, and the next day
after some trouble we got on the right trail, and on Monday, the 15th of
April, we again reached what we had called Oak Spring, near Mount
Trumbull, and the southern flow of lava already described. The following
day Jack and Fennemore went down to the brink of the Grand Canyon, at
the foot of a sort of valley the Uinkarets called Toroweap, while with
Dodds I climbed the peak later named after Senator Logan, and attempted
some triangulation, but the air was so murky I could not get my sights
and had to return for them the next morning. The day after that we
climbed Mount Trumbull, and I triangulated from there. One of my sights
from Logan was to a conical butte near which we had camped as we came
out, and near which we had found a large ant-hill covered with small,
perfect quartz crystals that sparkled in the sun like diamonds. When I
sighted to this butte, for want of a better name, I recorded it
temporarily as Diamond Butte, remembering the crystals, and the name
became fixed, which shows how unintentionally names are sometimes
bestowed. We examined the lava flows and the crater again, and I made a
sketch in pencil from another point of view from one I had made during
our former sojourn. Then we joined Jack and Fennemore, who had been
taking negatives at the canyon edge. On the 20th Dodds and I climbed
down the cliffs about three thousand feet to the water at a rapid called
Lava Falls. Across the river we could see a very large spring, but of
course we could not get over to it. Returning to Oak Spring, we spent
there another night, and in the morning, while the others started for
headquarters, I rode around to the ranch to inquire about a spring I had
heard something about existing on the St. George trail; but the solitary
man I found there, who came out of the woods in response to my shout, a
walking arsenal, did not know anything concerning it. After drinking a
quart or two of milk, which he kindly offered me, I rode on to join my
companions by continuing around the mountain, "running in" the trail as
I went with a prismatic compass. Presently I saw a cougar sitting
upright behind a big log, calmly staring at me, so I dismounted and sent
a Winchester bullet in his direction. My mule was highly nervous about
firearms, and having to restrain her antics by putting my arm through
the bridle rein, her snorting skittishness both at the rifle and the
cougar disturbed my aim and my shot went a trifle under. The bullet
seemed to clip the log, but if it hit the cougar the effect was not what
I expected, for with a rush like a sky-rocket the animal disappeared in
the top of the pine tree overhead, and I could see nothing more of it
though I rode about looking for it. Not wishing to dally here, I spurred
on to overtake my party, but in trying a short cut I passed beyond them,
as they had by that time halted in some cedars for lunch. The man at
the ranch had told me that Whitmore was due to arrive that day, and
having missed a part of the trail by the short cut, I could not judge by
the tracks as to where my party were, and not caring to waste time, I
rode on and on till I had gone so far I did not want to turn back.
Evening came, but there was a good moon, and I did not stop till eight
o'clock. The night was cold; the plain was barren and bleak. I had no
coat, but with the saddle blanket and a handful of dead brush, which I
burned by installments, I managed to warm myself enough to sleep by
short intervals. I was on my feet with the dawn, but my mule was nowhere
to be seen, though I had hoppled her well with my bridle reins. I
tracked the mule about five miles to a muddy place where there had been
water, caught her, and rode back to my saddle, when I continued my
journey, running in the trail as I went. I became pretty thirsty and
hungry, but the only thing for me to do was to continue to our main
camp. Had I gone back I might have missed our men again, for there had
been some talk about a short-cut trail, and I feared they might try it.
At two o'clock I reached Black Rock Canyon, where there was a
water-pocket full of warm and dirty water, but both the mule and I took
a drink and I rode on, passing Fort Pierce at sunset. Off on my right I
perceived ten or twelve Shewits Indians on foot travelling rapidly along
in Indian file, and as the darkness fell and I had to go through some
wooded gulches I confess I was a little uncomfortable and kept my rifle
in readiness; but I was not molested and reached camp about ten o'clock,
where I ate a large piece of bread with molasses, after a good drink of
water, and went to bed. The others arrived the following afternoon. I
had left notes for them by the trail in cleft-sticks, so they knew that
I was ahead. This was the longest trip I ever made without water or
food.

We prepared to start out again in different directions; one party was to
go to the Pine Valley Mountains, another to Pipe Spring and the mouth of
the Paria to look after our property there, a third up the Virgin Valley
for photographs, and a fourth to St. George and the Virgin range of
mountains south-west of that town. Prof. headed this last party, and he
took me as his topographical assistant. April 27th we rode into St.
George, a town I was much interested to see. I found a very pretty,
neat, well-ordered little city of about fifteen hundred population, with
a good schoolhouse, a stone tabernacle with a spire, and a court house,
the water running in ditches along the streets for irrigating purposes
as well as for drinking. About a mile below the town we camped, and we
could hear the band playing a serenade to one of the officials who was
to start the next day on a long journey. After several days of feeling
our way about in the rugged and dry region below St. George, we finally
discovered a good water-pocket, from which Prof. and I made a long, hard
ride and climb, and about sunset camped at the base of what is now
called Mount Bangs, the highest peak of the Virgin Mountains, for which
we were aiming. The next day we climbed an additional eleven hundred
feet to its summit, and completed our work in time by swift riding to
get to our main camp at the water-pocket by half-past six.

It was an easy trip back to St. George, following an old trail, and then
we made our way to Kanab again, where we put all our notes in shape and
fitted out for the journey to the mouth of the Dirty Devil across the
unknown country.

[Illustration: In the Unknown Country.

Photograph by J. K. Hillers, 1872.]

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 28: For the linguistic classification of stocks and tribes of
the United States, see Appendix, _The North Americans of Yesterday_, by
F. S. Dellenbaugh.]

[Footnote 29: For a description of Little Zion Valley, see "A New Valley
of Wonders," by F. S. Dellenbaugh, _Scribner's Magazine_, January,
1904.]

CHAPTER XIII

Off for the unknown Country--A lonely Grave--Climbing a
Hog-back to a green grassy Valley--Surprising a Ute
Camp--Towich-a-tick-a-boo--Following a Blind Trail--The
Unknown Mountains Become Known--Down a deep Canyon--To the
Paria with the _Canonita_--John D. Lee and Lonely Dell.

Andy and Captain Dodds, who had gone to the mouth of the Paria to
ascertain the condition of our boats, returned May 15th, reporting the
boats all right, but the caches we had left torn up by wolves and
prospectors. The latter had stolen oars and other things, and gone down
on a raft to be wrecked at the first rapid in Marble Canyon, where they
just escaped with their lives. A settler had established himself there a
short time before, the notorious John D. Lee, who was reputed to have
led the massacre of the unfortunate Missourians at Mountain Meadows in
1857, and who had eluded capture all these years. He had been "cut off,"
nominally at least, from the Mormon Church, and had lived in the most
out-of-the-way places, constantly on his guard. Our men took all our
ropes and remaining materials from the caches to his cabin, where they
would be safe till our arrival. We prepared for the trip eastward across
the unknown country to the mouth of the Dirty Devil River, and by the
22d of May I had completed the preliminary map of the region to westward
which we had just reconnoitred. Mrs. Thompson was to stay in Kanab, for
Prof. decided that it would not be advisable for her to accompany him on
this journey, although she was the most cheerful and resolute explorer
of the whole company. A large tent was erected for her in the corner of
Jacob's garden, and she was to take her meals with Sister Louisa, whose
house stood close by. With Fuzz, a most intelligent dog, for a companion
in her tent and the genial Sister Louisa for a near neighbour she was
satisfactorily settled. Fuzz had the peculiarity of sympathising with
the Navajos in their contempt for the Pai Utes. The latter roused his
ire on the instant, but when a Navajo came up, with his confident step,
Fuzz would lie still, with merely a roll of the eye to signify that he
was on guard.

Saturday, May 25th, our caravan of riders, pack animals, and a waggon
moved slowly toward Eight-Mile Spring, the first stop in prospect. I
rode a brisk little horse which had received the lofty name of Aaron.
When we reached Eight-Mile Spring about noon there was barely enough
water for our animals and for cooking dinner, which compelled our going
elsewhere to put on the finishing touches to our outfit before cutting
loose from the settlements, and Prof. directed the caravan to continue
to Johnson, farther east and up one of the canyons of the Vermilion
Cliffs. He returned to Kanab to make some final arrangements there,
while we kept on to Johnson, passing the little settlement of two or
three houses, and making a camp two miles above, where the canyon bottom
was wide and level. Here we went over everything to be sure that all was
in good order and nothing left behind. The animals were reshod where
necessary, which operation kept Andy and Dodds busy all of Sunday, the
26th. By thus making a start and proceeding a few miles all defects and
neglects become apparent before it is too late to remedy them. On Monday
Jack went back to Kanab with the waggon, returning toward night with
George Adair. Fennemore had started with them, but he had turned back
after something forgotten, and they did not know whether or not he had
come on. In the morning George went off to look for him, and met him
down at the settlement. He had followed on the day before, but instead
of turning up the Johnson road, according to instructions, he had gone
ahead on the road towards the Paria settlement. Finally concluding that
he was wrong he had tried to correct his mistake by moonlight, but after
a while gave it up, tied his mule, unsaddled, to a cedar, and claimed
the protection of another for himself. During the night the mule chewed
the bridle in two and departed for Kanab, leaving Fennemore, when
daylight came, to walk some eight miles under a hot sun without water or
breakfast to Johnson. He was considerably used up by this episode, and
put in the remainder of the day in recuperating. The evenings were
wonderfully beautiful, and looking from a height the scene was
exceptionally picturesque, with the red rocks, the warm sky, the camp
equipage, and the air so still that the smoke of the camp-fires rose
slender and unbroken till lost in the zenith.

Early Wednesday morning Prof. rode up on his powerful buckskin-coloured
horse, and with Johnson and me went over to our Point B some miles away
for some bearings, while Fennemore rode in search of his abandoned
saddle. By night there was nothing to interfere with our making the
final start, which we did May 30th, proceeding up the canyon without
Mormon, one of our strongest horses, which by an accident had been
injured so badly that he had to be left behind at Johnson. He was a
fractious, unruly beast, but with so great vitality that we were sorry
not to have his services. He died a week or two later. Towards night we
passed another very small settlement called Clarkston, and camped near
it, the last houses we would see for some time. Several Pai Utes hung
around, and Prof. engaged one called Tom to accompany us as interpreter
and, so far as he might know the country, as guide.

The next day, after sixteen miles north-easterly up canyons, we entered
about three o'clock an exceedingly beautiful little valley, with a fine
spring and a small lake or pond at the lower end. George Adair instantly
declared that he meant to come back here to live, and after dinner when
we reconnoitred the place he staked out his claim. All the next morning,
June 1st, our way led over rolling meadows covered with fine grass, but
about noon this ended and we entered the broken country of the upper
Paria, with gullies and gulches barren and dry the rest of the day,
except two, in which we crossed small branches of the Paria. In one of
the dry gulches we passed a grave, marked by a sandstone slab with E. A.
cut on it, which the wolves had dug out, leaving the human bones
scattered all around. We could not stop to reinter them. They were the
remains of Elijah Averett, a young Mormon, who was killed while pursuing
Pai Utes in 1866. Just before sunset we arrived at the banks of the
Paria, where we made camp, with plenty of wood, water, and grass.
Captain Dodds during the afternoon recognised a place he had been in
when hunting a way the autumn before, and we followed his old trail for
a time. Leaving the Paria the following day where it branches, we
followed the east fork to its head, twelve miles, climbing rapidly
through a narrow valley. We could plainly see on the left a high, flat,
cliff-bounded summit, which was called Table Mountain, and early in the
afternoon we reached a series of "hog-backs," and up one of which the
old Indian trail we were now following took its precarious way. The
hog-backs were narrow ridges of half-disintegrated clay-shale, with
sides like the roof of a house, the trail following the sharp
summit-line. Before we had fairly begun this very steep, slippery, and
narrow climb, the thunder boomed and the heavens threw down upon us
fierce torrents of rain, soaking everything and chilling us through and
through, while making the trail like wet soap. Part way up, at one of
the worst places, a pack came loose, and, slipping back, hung on the
rump of the horse. There was no room for bucking it off, and there was
no trouble so far as the beast of burden was concerned, for he realised
fully his own danger. Two of us managed to climb along past the other
animals to where he meekly stood waiting on the narrow ridge, with a
descent on each side of eight hundred or nine hundred feet, and set
things in order once more, when the cavalcade continued the ascent, the
total amount of which was some twelve hundred feet.

Arriving at the top we found ourselves almost immediately on the edge of
a delightful little valley, mossy and green with a fresh June dress,
down which we proceeded two or three miles to a spring where Dodds and
Jacob had made a cache of some flour the year before. The flour had
disappeared. We made a camp and dried out our clothes, blankets, etc.,
by means of large fires. Though it was summer the air was decidedly
chilly, for we were at an altitude of nearly 6000 feet. Our interpreter
that was to be did not enjoy the situation and I think he dreaded
meeting with the stranger Indians we might encounter. He declared he was
"heap sick," and begged to be allowed to return, so Prof. gave him
several days' rations and we saw him no more. There was a pretty creek
in this valley flowing eastward, which Dodds said was the head of the
Dirty Devil, the same stream he had followed down the year before in the
attempt to find a way to bring us rations. The weather was very bad but
we kept on down Potato Valley as it had been named, crossing three or
four swift tributaries. About four o'clock we stopped beside a raging
torrent and went into camp to reconnoitre. There were signs of some one
having been here about a month before, and as the animals were shod we
judged it was some prospector. The next day was so wet and Prof. was
feeling so sick that we kept our camp, having made tents out of paulins
and pack-covers, which gave me a chance to plot up the trail from Kanab
to this point, one hundred and three miles. Instead of crossing the
torrent the following day, June 5th, we went over the chief stream
before the union and travelled down the right-hand side till we arrived
within half a mile of the place where the river canyoned and received a
tributary from the left. It cut into the rocks very abruptly and being
high we could not enter the canyon as Dodds had done. While the party
camped here, Prof. and Dodds rode away to the south on a dim trail to
find out what move to make; how far we might be able to go down the
Dirty Devil the next day. When they got back they reported finding a
canyon twelve miles farther on, with many water-pockets, and concluded
to go there. We arrived about noon Thursday, June 6th, making camp.
Prof. and Dodds then climbed to where they could get a wide view, and
Dodds pointed out the locality he had before reached when he thought
himself so near the mouth of the Dirty Devil. No sooner had he done so
than Prof. perceived at once that we were not on the river we thought we
were on, for by this explanation he saw that the stream we were trying
to descend flowed into the Colorado far to the south-west of the Unknown
Mountains, whereas he knew positively that the Dirty Devil came in on
the north-east. Then the question was, "What river is this?" for we had
not noted a tributary of any size between the Dirty Devil and the San
Juan. It was a new river whose identity had not been fathomed. This
discovery put a different complexion on everything. The problem was more
complicated than Dodds had imagined when he was trying to reach the
mouth the year before.

Prof. declared it was impossible to proceed farther in this direction
towards our goal. The canyon of the river was narrow, and with the
stream swimming high it was out of the question as a path for us now,
and even had we been able to go down far enough to get out on the other
side, the region intervening between it and the distant mountains was a
heterogeneous conglomeration of unknown mesas and canyons that appeared
impassable. He concluded the only thing to do was to go north to the
summit of the Wasatch cliffs and keep along the high land north-east to
an angle where these slopes vanished to the north. From that point we
might be able to cross to the Dirty Devil or Unknown Mountains. Once at
these mountains we felt certain of finding a way to our former
camp-ground at the mouth of the Dirty Devil River. We retraced our path
to the foot of Potato Valley, and there Jones, Clem, and George Adair
were sent out to Kanab for additional rations, it being plain that we
were in for a longer effort than had been contemplated. They were to be
here again in twelve days to meet Prof. with his party, on the return
from starting down the _Canonita_ with a crew selected from the seven
remaining men. This seven, which included Prof., were now to strike up a
branch creek and reach the upper slopes of what he later called the
Aquarius Plateau, and along its verdant slopes continue our effort to
reach the Unknown Mountains. The two parties separated on Saturday, June
8th, our contingent travelling about eighteen miles nearly due north,
till just at sunset we entered a high valley in which flowed two
splendid creeks. There we camped with an abundance of everything needed
to make a comfortable rest for man and beast. In such travel as this the
beast is almost the first consideration, for without him movement is
slow and difficult and distance limited. We had gone up in altitude a
great deal, 1800 or 2000 feet, and the next day, which was Sunday, we
continued this upward course, seeing signs of deer and elk with an
occasional sight of a fat "pine hen" winging its heavy flight from tree
to tree. The pines were very tall and thick, interspersed with fir and
balsam as well as with the usual accompaniment of high altitude in the
West, the aspen. Our aneroids indicated 10,000 feet above sea-level, and
we could look down upon the vast canyoned desert to the south as on a
map. Descending into a deep canyon where a clear torrent was foaming
down at the rate of five hundred feet to the mile, we went up a branch
and finally passing over a sudden crest discovered before us a very
beautiful lake of an extent of some two hundred acres. It was now late,
and though we had come only ten miles we went into camp for the night.
There were several smaller lagoons nearby and we named the group the
Aspen Lakes. Around them in the dense groves huge snowbanks still
lingered from the heart of winter. A prettier mountain region than this
could not be imagined, while the magnificent outlook to the south and
east across the broken country was a bewildering sight, especially as
the night enveloped it, deepening the mystery of its entangled gorges
and cliffs. From every point we could see the Navajo Mountain and at
least we knew what there was at the foot of its majestic northern slope.
I climbed far above camp and crossing over a promontory looked down upon
the nebulous region to the eastward that we were to fathom, and it
seemed to me one of the most interesting sights I had ever beheld. The
night was so cold that ice formed in our kettles, for our altitude in
feet above sea was in the ten thousand still.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25