Charles Asbury Stephens - "Left on Labrador"

Maurice Joblin - "Cleveland Past and Present"

Marcel Proust - "A L'Ombre Des Jeunes Filles en Fleur, Volume 2"

Elias Owen - "Welsh Folk Lore"

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




[Illustration: The Grand Canyon.

From just below the Little Colorado.

Photograph by J. K. Hillers, 1872.]

A dark granite formation had run up at the foot of the last fall and it
rose rapidly higher, hemming the water in with steep, forbidding cliffs
close together. The river became much narrower and swirled with an
oily-looking current around the buttresses of granite that thrust
themselves from one side or the other into it. The declivity was not
great and the torrent was otherwise placid. After three miles of this
ominous docility, just as the dinner hour was near and the threatening
black granite had risen to one thousand feet above the water, we heard a
deep, sullen roar ahead and from the boats the whole river seemed to
vanish instantly from earth. At once we ran in on the right to a small
area of great broken rocks that protruded above the water at the foot of
the wall, and stepping out on these we could look down on one of the
most fearful places I ever saw or ever hope to see under like
circumstances,--a place that might have been the Gate to Hell that
Steward had mentioned. We were near the beginning of a tremendous fall.
The narrow river dropped suddenly and smoothly away, and then, beaten to
foam, plunged and boomed for a third of a mile through a descent of from
eighty to one hundred feet, the enormous waves leaping twenty or thirty
feet into the air and sending spray twice as high.[33] On each side were
the steep, ragged granitic walls, with the tumultuous waters lashing and
pounding against them in a way that precluded all idea of portage or
let-down. It needed no second glance to tell us that there was only one
way of getting below. If the rocks did not stop us we could "cross to
Killiloo," and when a driving rain had ceased Andy gathered the few
sticks of driftwood available for a fire, by which he prepared some
dinner in advance of the experiment. Jack and Clem took three negatives,
and when the dinner was disposed of we stowed all loose articles snugly
away in the cabins, except a camp-kettle in each standing-room to bail
with, and then battening down the hatches with extra care, and making
everything shipshape, we pulled the _Dean_ up-stream, leaving the
_Canonita_ and her crew to watch our success or failure and profit by
it. The Major had on his life-preserver and so had Jones, but Jack and I
put ours behind our seats, where we could catch them up quickly, for
they were so large we thought they impeded the handling of the oars.
Jack's back had fortunately now recovered, so that he was able to row
almost his usual stroke. We pulled up-stream about a quarter of a mile
close to the right-hand wall, in order that we might get well into the
middle of the river before making the great plunge, and then we turned
our bow out and secured the desired position as speedily as possible,
heading down upon the roaring enemy--roaring as if it would surely
swallow us at one gulp.

[Illustration: The Grand Canyon.

Running the Sockdologer.

From a sketch afterwards by F. S. Dellenbaugh.]

My back being towards the fall I could not see it, for I could not turn
round while waiting every instant for orders. Nearer and nearer came
the angry tumult; the Major shouted "Back water!" there was a sudden
dropping away of all support; then the mighty waves smote us. The boat
rose to them well, but we were flying at twenty-five miles an hour and
at every leap the breakers rolled over us. "Bail!" shouted the
Major,--"Bail for your lives!" and we dropped the oars to bail, though
bailing was almost useless. The oars could not get away, for they had
rawhide rings nailed around near the handle to prevent them from
slipping through the rowlocks. The boat rolled and pitched like a ship
in a tornado, and as she flew along Jack and I, who faced backwards,
could look up under the canopies of foam pouring over gigantic black
boulders, first on one side, then on the other. Why we did not land on
top of one of these and turn over I don't know, unless it might be that
the very fury of the current causes a recoil. However that may be, we
struck nothing but the waves, the boats riding finely and certainly
leaping at times almost half their length out of water, to bury
themselves quite as far at the next lunge. If you will take a watch and
count by it ninety seconds, you will probably have about the time we
were in this chaos, though it seemed much longer to me. Then we were
through, and immediately took advantage of an eddy on one side to lie to
and bail out, for the boat was full of water. Setting her to rights as
quickly as we could, we got ready to make a dash for the crew of the
_Canonita_ in case she fared worse than we did. We looked anxiously for
her to appear, and presently, at the top of what seemed to us now to be
a straight wall of foam, her small white bulk hung for an instant and
then vanished from our sight in the mad flood. Soon appearing at the
bottom uninjured, she ran in to where we were waiting. The _Canonita_,
being lighter than our boat, did not ship as much water as in some other
places, and altogether we agreed that notwithstanding its great descent
and furious aspect the passage was not more difficult than we had made
in several previous rapids.

Continuing on down the narrow and gloomy granite gorge, we encountered
about a mile farther down a singular rapid, which turned the _Canonita_
completely around. About four o'clock we found ourselves before another
tremendous fall, and a very ugly one. Landing on the left, we discovered
that to be the wrong side, and crossed over to a little cove where
there was a patch of gravel, surrounded by vertical walls, the crossing
being easily made because the water seemed to slacken before the plunge.
We did not intend to run the place if it could be avoided, and the south
side gave no opportunity whatever for a portage, while the north side
offered no very easy course. Prof. declared this to be one of the worst
rapids we had seen, and we were now about two hundred feet above the
head of it, with the vertical cliffs between. Immediately at the
beginning of the drop on the same side that we were on was a pile of
boulders, and our plan was to engineer the boats by lines from where we
had landed down to these rocks, from which we believed we could work
around over the rocks into an alcove there was there, and thence go down
till we reached the lower part of the descent, through which we could
navigate. Consequently several of the men entered one boat, and we
lowered her from the stern of the second as far as her line would reach,
and then lowered the second till the first lodged in the rocks at the
desired point at the head of the fall. Then, pulling up the second boat,
we who had remained got on board, and by clinging to the projections of
the wall, the current close in being quite slow, we succeeded in
arriving alongside the first boat. The next thing was to get around into
the alcove. The sky above was heavy and rain began to come down
steadily, making the dark granite blacker and intensifying the gloomy
character of the locality. By hard work we finally got our boats across
the rocks and down about two hundred feet farther into a cove, where
they rested easily. Up to this time we had made in all, during the day,
seven and one-quarter miles. As night was now dropping fast we had to
make camp on a pile of broken granite, where a close search yielded an
armful or two of small pieces of driftwood, all wet. Under a rock
several dry sticks were discovered, and by their aid a fire soon blazed
up by which the indomitable Andy proceeded to get supper. There was no
use changing wet clothes for dry ones from the rubber bags as long as
the rain fell, and it increased till water was dashing off the walls in
streams. The thunder roared and crashed as if it were knocking the
cliffs about to rearrange them all, and a deluge swept down in which
Andy's struggling little fire died with hardly a sputter. The only thing
remaining for us to do was to all stand with our backs against the foot
of the wall, which was still warm from the day, and wait for something
else to happen. The bread-pan seen through the dim and dismal light was
a tempestuous lake, with an island of dough in it, while Andy the
undaunted stood grimly gazing at it, the rain dribbling from his hat and
shoulders till he resembled the fabled ferryman of the River Styx. The
situation was so ludicrous that every one laughed, and the Weather God
finding that we were not downcast slackened the downpour immediately.
Then we put some oars against the wall and stretched a paulin to protect
our noble chef, who finally got the wet firewood once more ignited, and
succeeded in getting the bread almost baked and the coffee nearly hot
and some dried peaches almost stewed. The rain ceasing, we hurriedly
donned dry clothes and applied ourselves to the destruction of these
viands, which tasted better than might be imagined. Each man then took
his blankets, and, selecting rocks that in his judgment were the
softest, he went to sleep.

There was another alcove about three hundred yards below our camp, and
in the morning, Friday, August 30th, we proceeded to work our way down
to this, several men clambering along a ledge about 150 feet above the
water with the line, while I remained each time in the boat below with
an oar to keep the bow in against the wall, so that she could not take
the current on the wrong side--that is, on the side next to the
wall--and cut out into the river. In this way we got both boats down to
the alcove, whence we intended to pull out into the current and run the
lower portion of the rapid. It was only noon when we reached the place,
but then we discovered that both boats had been so pounded that they
badly needed repairs--in fact, it was imperative to halt there for this
purpose,--and we hauled them out on a patch of broken rocks, thirty or
forty feet square, filling the curve of the alcove and bounded by
vertical rocks and the river. While at work on them we happened to
notice that the river was rapidly rising, and, setting a mark, the rate
was found to be three feet an hour. The rocks on which we were standing
and where all the cargo was lying were being submerged. We looked around
for some way to get up the cliff, as it was now too late to think of
leaving. About fifteen feet above the top of the rocks on which we were
working there was a shelf five or six feet wide, to which some of the
men climbed, and we passed up every article to them. When the repairs
were done darkness was filling the great gorge. By means of lines from
above and much hard lifting we succeeded in raising the boats up the
side of the cliff, till they were four or five feet above the highest
rocks of the patch on which we stood. This insured their safety for the
time being, and if the river mounted to them we intended to haul them
still higher. The next thing was to find a place to sleep. By walking
out on a ledge from the shelf where our goods were we could turn a
jutting point above the rushing river by clinging closely to the rocks,
and walk back on a shelf on the other side to a considerable area of
finely broken rocks, thirty feet above the torrent, where there was room
enough for a camp. Rain fell at intervals, and the situation was
decidedly unpromising. While Andy and the others were getting the cook
outfit and rations around the point, I climbed the cliffs hunting for
wood. I found small pieces of driftwood lodged behind mesquite bushes
fully one hundred feet above the prevailing stage of water. I collected
quite an armful of half-dead mesquite, which has the advantage of being
so compact that it makes a fire hot as coal, and little is needed to
cook by. Supper was not long in being despatched, and then, every man
feeling about worn out, we put on dry clothes, the rain having ceased,
and went to sleep on the rocks. Before doing so we climbed back to
examine the boats, and found the river was not coming up farther, though
it had almost completely covered the rocks.

Saturday, the 21st of August, 1872, was about the gloomiest morning I
ever saw. Rain was falling, the clouds hung low over our heads like a
lid to the box-like chasm in the black, funereal granite enclosing us,
while the roar of the big rapid seemed to be intensified. We felt like
rats in a trap. Eating breakfast as quickly as possible, we got
everything together again on the shelf and lowered the boats. Though the
river was not rising, it beat and surged into the cove in a way that
made the boats jump and bounce the moment they touched the water. To
prevent their being broken by pounding, one man at each steadied them
while the others passed down the sacks and instrument boxes. Then it was
seen that either a new leak had sprung in the _Dean_ amidships or a hole
had not been caulked, for a stream as wide as two fingers was spurting
into the middle cabin. To repair her now meant hauling both boats back
against the side of the cliff and spending another day in this trap,
with the chance of the river rising much higher before night so that we
might not be able to get away at all--at least not for days. For an
instant the Major thought of pulling the boats out again, but as his
quick judgment reviewed the conditions he exclaimed, "By God, we'll
start! Load up!" It was the rarest thing for him to use an oath, and I
remember only one other occasion when he did so--in Marble Canyon when
he thought we were going to smash. We threw the things in as fast as we
could, jammed a bag of flour against the leak in the _Dean_, battened
down the hatches, threw our rifles into the bottom of the standing rooms
where the water and sand washed unheeded over them, and jumped to our
oars. The crew of the _Canonita_ held our stern till the bow swung out
into the river, and then at the signal Jack and I laid to with all our
strength--to shoot clear of an enormous rock about fifty feet below
against which the fierce current was dashing. The _Dean_ was so nearly
water-logged that she was sluggish in responding to the oars, but we
swept past the rock safely and rolled along down the river in the tail
of the rapid with barely an inch of gunwale to spare,--in fact I thought
the boat might sink. As soon as we saw a narrow talus on the right we
ran in and landed.

When the _Canonita_ was ready to start one of Clem's oars could not be
found, and Prof. had to delay to cut down one of the extras for him.
Then they got their boat up as far as they could, and while Prof. and
Andy kept her from pounding to pieces, Clem got in, bailed out, and took
his oars. Prof. then climbed in at the stern, but the current was so
strong that it pulled Andy off his feet and he was just able to get on,
the boat drifting down stern first toward the big rock. Prof. concluded
to let the stern strike and then try to throw the boat around into the
river. By this time Andy had got hold of his oars, and the eddy seemed
to carry them up-stream some twenty-five feet, so perverse and
capricious is the Colorado. They swung the bow to starboard into the
main current, and with a couple of strong oar-strokes the dreaded rock
was cleared, and down the _Canonita_ came to us over the long waves like
a hunted deer. We unloaded the _Dean_ and pulled her out for repairs,
but it was after four o'clock when we were able to go on again with a
fairly tight boat. Then for eight miles the river was a continuous rapid
broken by eight heavy falls, but luckily there were no rocks in any of
them at this stage of water, and we were able to dash through one after
another at top speed, stopping only once for examination. Two of these
rapids were portages on the former trip, proving the ease and advantage
of high water in some places; but the disadvantages are much greater.
Through a very narrow canyon on the right we caught a glimpse of a
pretty creek, but we were going so fast the view was brief and
imperfect. At 5:15 o'clock we ran up to a wide sandbank on which grew a
solitary willow tree and there Camp 99 was made. For a space the inner
canyon was much wider than above and the mouth of Bright Angel Creek was
just below us; a locality now well known because a trail from the Hotel
Tovar on the south rim comes down at this point. The name was applied by
the Major on his first trip to offset the name Dirty Devil applied
farther up.

[Illustration: The Grand Canyon.

From Top of Granite, South Side near Bright Angel Creek.]

The next day was Sunday, September 1st, and after the Major had climbed
the south wall for observations we started once more on a powerful
current. For the first three miles there was a continuous rapid with no
opportunity to land. We dashed through waves that tossed us badly and
filled the boats half full and then half full again before we had a
chance to bail. In fifteen minutes we made the three miles and a half
mile more, to arrive at a heavy rapid, which we ran and in two miles
reached another with fearful waves, which we also ran. In one Jones was
overbalanced by his oar hitting the top of a big wave behind the boat
and he was knocked out. He clung by his knees and hands, his back in the
water, and the boat careened till I thought she would go over. We could
not move to help him without upsetting and were compelled to leave him
to his own resources. In some way he succeeded in scrambling back. The
waves were tremendous and sometimes seemed to come from all directions
at once. There were whirlpools, too, that turned us round in spite of
every effort to prevent it. The river was about one hundred and fifty
feet wide. After an extremely strenuous morning we halted on the right
for dinner, continuing as soon as we had disposed of it. Presently we
arrived at a sharp fall of about twenty feet, where we made a portage,
and waited at the foot for the photographers to take some negatives and
also for repairing the _Canonita_. Finally it was decided to camp on
the spot. It was Camp 100. Our record for the day was a trifle over
seven miles with nine rapids run and one portage.

Almost the first thing in the morning of September 2d was a portage,
after which we had fair water for two or three miles, and then reached a
very heavy fall, where we landed on the left and had dinner before
making another portage. This accomplished, we proceeded on a river still
rising and ran a great many bad rapids, some of them having tremendous
falls. In one the fierce current set against the cliff so strongly that
we were carried within an oar's length of it, notwithstanding our severe
effort to avoid so close an acquaintance with the rough wall. Even
between rapids the velocity of the water was extremely high and we flew
along at terrific speed, while in the huge waves of the rapids the boats
leaped and plunged with startling violence. Toward night a sudden halt
was made on the left to examine a bad-looking place half a mile below.
The Major and Prof. tried to climb where they could get a good view of
it, but they failed. The Major said we would run it in the morning,
though Prof. was dubious about the feasibility of doing so successfully
and said he thought it about the worst place we had yet seen. We camped
on a rocky talus where we were. A small sandbank was found nearby for
our beds, and we made another discovery, a small pool of clear, pure
water, a rare treat after the muddy Colorado which we had been drinking
for so long. Twenty rapids were placed to our credit for this one day in
a trifle over fifteen miles, and we felt that we were vanquishing the
Grand Canyon with considerable success.

Our life now was so strenuous every hour of the day that our songs were
forgotten, and when night came every man was so used up that as soon as
supper was over rest and sleep were the only things that interested us.
Though our beds were as hard and rough as anything could be, we slept
with the intensity of the rocks themselves, and it never seemed more
than a few minutes before we were aroused by the Major's rising signal
"Oh-ho, boys!" and rose to our feet to pack the blankets in the rubber
bags, sometimes with a passing thought as to whether we would ever take
them out again. For my part, never before nor since have I been so
tired. One night when the Major called us to look out for the boats I
did not hear him and no one waked me so I slept on, learning about it
only the next morning. Our food supply was composed partly of jerked
beef, and as this could not be put in rubber because of the grease it
became more or less damp and there developed in it a peculiar kind of
worm, the largest about an inch long, with multitudinous legs. There
were a great many of them and they gave the beef a queer taste. In order
to clear the sacks as far as possible of these undesirable denizens I
several times emptied them on wide smooth rocks, and while the worms
were scrambling around I scraped up the beef without many of them, but
could not get rid of all. Andy's method of cooking this beef was to make
a gravy with bacon fat and scorched flour and then for a few moments
stew the beef in the gravy. Ordinarily this made a very palatable dish
but the peculiar flavour of the beef now detracted from it, though we
were so hungry that we could eat anything without a query, and our
diminishing supply of rations forbade the abandonment of the valuable
beef.

When we arose on the morning of September 3d the dubious rapid was
tossing its huge waves exactly as on the night before and humanity
seemed to be out of the reckoning. By eight o'clock we were ready for
it, and with everything in good trim we pushed off. The current was
strong from the start, and a small rapid just below camp gave additional
speed, so that we were soon bearing down on the big one with wild
velocity. The river dropped away abruptly, to rise again in a succession
of fearful billows whose crests leaped and danced high in air as if
rejoicing at the prospect of annihilating us. Just then the Major
changed his mind as to running the place, for now standing on the boat's
deck he could see it better than before from the region of our camp. He
ordered us to pull hard on our left, intending to land at a spot that
was propitious on the left or south bank, but no sooner had he given
this command than he perceived that no landing above the fall was
possible. He gave another order which put us straight in the middle
again and down we flew upon the descent. The Major as usual had put on
his life-preserver and I think Jones had on his, but Jack and I, as was
our custom, placed ours inflated immediately behind our seats, not
wishing to be hampered by them. The plunge was exceedingly sharp and
deep, and then we found ourselves tossing like a chip in a frightful
chaos of breakers which almost buried us, though the boats rose to them
as well as any craft possibly could. I bailed with a camp kettle rapidly
and Jack did the same, but the boat remained full to the gunwales as we
were swept on. We had passed the worst of it when, just as the _Dean_
mounted a giant wave at an angle perhaps of forty or fifty degrees, the
crest broke in a deluge against the port bow with a loud slap. In an
instant we were upside-down going over to starboard. I threw up my hand
instinctively to grasp something, and luckily caught hold of a spare oar
which was carried slung on the side, and by this means I pulled myself
above water. My hat was pasted down over my eyes. Freeing myself from
this I looked about. Bottom up the boat was clear of the rapid and
sweeping on down with the swift, boiling current toward a dark bend. The
_Canonita_ was nowhere to be seen. No living thing was visible. The
narrow black gorge rose in sombre majesty to the everlasting sky. What
was a mere human life or two in the span of eternity? I was about
preparing to climb up on the bottom of the boat when I perceived Jones
clinging to the ring in the stern, and in another second the Major and
Jack shot up alongside as if from a gun. The whole party had been kept
together in a kind of whirlpool, and the Major and Jack had been pulled
down head first till, as is the nature of these suctions on the
Colorado, it suddenly changed to an upward force and threw them out into
the air.

There was no time to lose, for we did not wish to go far in this
condition; another rapid might be in waiting around the corner. Jack and
I carefully got up on the bottom, leaving the Major at the bow and Jones
at the stern, and leaning over we took hold of the starboard gunwale
under water, and throwing ourselves back quickly together we brought the
_Dean_ up on her keel, though she came near rolling clear over the other
way. She was even full of water, but the cabins supported her. Jack
helped me in and then I balanced his effort so as not to capsize again.
The bailing kettles were gone, but as our hats had strangely enough
remained on our heads through it all we bailed with them as fast as
possible for a few seconds till we lowered the water sufficiently to
make it safe to get the others on board. The Major came aft along the
gunwale and I helped him in, then Jack helped Jones. The oars,
fortunately, had not come out of the locks, thanks to our excellent
arrangement, and grasping them, without trying to haul in the bow line
trailing a hundred feet in the water, we pulled hard for a slight eddy
on the left where we perceived a footing on the rocks, and as soon as we
were near enough I caught up the rope, made the leap, and threw the
bight over a projection, where I held the boat while Jack and Jones
bailed rapidly and set things in order so that we could go to the
assistance of the _Canonita_. The Major's Jurgenssen chronometer had
stopped at 8:26:30 from the wetting.

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