A Canyon Voyage

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

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We ran the base line up through Kanab and at the head of it pitched a
small observatory tent over a stone foundation on which Prof, set up a
large transit instrument for stellar observations. He got in connection,
by the telegraph, with Salt Lake City and made a series of close
observations. I began an hourly set of barometrical readings and as soon
as Clem came back he helped me to run them day and night for eight
consecutive days. Jack meanwhile was preparing for a trip to the Moki
Towns, the Major and Jones had gone off for some special work, and Andy
started with a waggon for Beaver to bring down rations. Occasional bands
of trading Navajos enlivened the days and I secured five good blankets
in exchange for old Yawger, who was now about useless for our purposes.
Prof. gave him to me to get what I could for him, and he also gave Clem
another derelict for the same purpose. On the 9th of October Jack, Andy,
and Clem, started with Jacob on his annual trip to the Mokis by way of
Lee's Lonely Dell while Jones went north to Long Valley on the head of
the Virgin, for topography. The Major on foot, with a Mormon companion
and a Pai Ute, explored from Long Valley down the narrow canyon of the
Virgin to Shunesburg, about 20 miles, a trip never before made.[37] The
canyon is about two thousand feet deep and in places only twenty or
thirty feet wide, twisting in such a way that the sky was not visible at
times, and the stream often filled it from side to side so that they had
to swim.

[Illustration: The Grand Canyon.

At the Bottom near Foot of Bass Trail.]

About eleven o'clock that night Prof. came to wake me up to say that a
telegram had arrived stating that Najavos again had been raiding and had
stolen seventy head of horses from Parowan. They were supposed to be
making for El Vado and nobody in the absence of Jacob seemed to know
just what to do about it. Prof. had advised them to organise a party and
cut off the raiders, but they preferred to consult Jacob before doing
anything. Prof. now asked me if I would be willing to ride at once to
the Navajo Well where Jacob had expected to camp and notify him of the
raid, no one else in town understanding where the well was, few besides
ourselves and Jacob ever having travelled that way. I said I would go if
I could have one companion. It was a lonely journey, and besides I might
come on the Navajos before reaching the well. Charley Riggs, a splendid
fellow whom I liked exceedingly, volunteered. Filling our overcoat
pockets with cartridges, and each with a good Winchester across his
saddle, we started about 12:30 under a fine moon and a clear sky. I knew
the way perfectly, even by moonlight. We took no wrong turns, had no
stops, and made excellent time toward the Navajo Well twenty miles away.
On we went over the open country, skirting the Vermilion Cliffs on our
left.

"Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place,"

but not at the headlong gallop by which they brought the news over a
first-class road to Aix, we rode steadily as fast as the ground would
permit, sometimes on a gallop, sometimes on a trot. About two o'clock,
as we neared a canyon where an old trail came down from the north which
the raiders might follow, we slowed up and advanced with caution. Dimly
we perceived what appeared to be a number of sleeping forms under the
ordinary Navajo dark-blue and white striped service blanket. Throwing
our guns up ready for action we rode ahead slowly to pass by a detour if
not discovered. We then saw that the objects were nothing but peculiar
bushes. With a feeling of sympathy for the dear Knight of La Mancha and
his worthy Sancho we spurred forward. At half-past four by the watch
dawn began to spread on the sky and we rode into the camp at the Navajo
Well. A shout and our hoofbeats had roused the sleepers. I delivered my
message to Jacob who immediately started for El Vado with Charley Riggs,
intending to add several more men to his band at the Paria settlement
which he would pass through; a route he had often before followed for a
like purpose. My leg was by no means well and it would have been
imprudent on this account for me to further lend my services. I let
Jacob have my rifle and ammunition and returned to Kanab, Jack, Andy,
and Clem going on to Lee's to wait. I reached the settlement before
noon, when George Adair and Tom Stewart started heavily armed to join
Jacob at the earliest moment. A Pai Ute later came in with a report that
a fresh party of Navajos on a trading trip had recently come across the
Colorado, and from this we concluded that the alarm was false, or that
the culprits were Utes who went off into the Dirty Devil country. Prof.
with Adams went out towards the Paria and then to the Kaibab to do some
topographic work along the north rim of the Grand Canyon and I was left
without any of our party in the village, it being deemed inadvisable for
me to do much riding or walking till my wound, which was now doing well,
had more nearly healed. I devoted my time to plotting up notes,
finishing sketches, drawings of pictographs, etc., and took my meals at
Sister Louisa's. I became much interested in the story of her
experiences which she told us from time to time, especially as she was
one of the women who had pushed a handcart across the plains. After a
few days the Major came in from a trip accompanied by several Pai Utes,
among whom was Chuarooumpeak, the young chief of the Kaibab band,
usually called Frank by the settlers and Chuar by his own people. The
Pai Utes having no "F" in their language pronounced his English name
"Brank," just as they called me "Bred." Their usual name for me was
Untokarowits, derived from the dark red colour of my hair. Frank was a
remarkably good man. He had been constantly devoted to the safety and
welfare of the whites. A most fluent speaker in his native tongue, he
would address his people with long flights of uninterrupted rhetorical
skill.

Old Patnish came in occasionally. Though he did not look particularly
dangerous his eye was keen and his bearing positive. Nobody would have
interfered with him unless prepared for a fight to the finish. One day I
rode to Johnson by the trail and learned when I got back that Patnish
had arrived at Kanab by the road, so I just missed an interview. The
term "old" Patnish signifies "that scoundrel" Patnish, but when the
people spoke of "old" Jacob the prefix was one of respect and
affection--so contrary is the meaning that can be put into three
letters. Charley Riggs and George Adair came back from El Vado saying
that no raiding Navajos had been seen, so our opinion of the false alarm
was confirmed.

[Illustration:

E. Showing results of recent re-survey of part of the Grand Canyon near
Bright Angel Creek by the Geological Survey with ample time for detail.
Compare with Map C at page 246, the south end of Kaibab Plateau.]

On the 27th of October we had the first snow of the season, which lasted
only a few hours, snow never being heavy at Kanab. The Major had planned
another journey to the Uinkaret region and we started November 2d,
taking with us three of the Kaibab band--Chuar, another called George,
or, as they pronounced it, "Judge," and Waytoots; the Major desiring to
talk to them in our camps to continue his vocabulary and the collection
of other linguistic material which he had been gathering from them and
others in and around Kanab at every opportunity. Our party proceeded to
Pipe Spring, camping half a mile below the houses and striking the next
day, Monday, November 4th, for the Wild Band Pocket. Finding no water
there the natives led on toward a spring they knew of in a low line of
cliffs. I was riding a broncho broken only a few weeks before, and at an
unexpected moment I was suddenly deemed _persona non grata_, but I kept
my seat and vanquished the beast after a vigorous circus, meeting
thereafter with no further opposition. We saw a band of twenty wild
horses spinning across the plain one behind another like a train of
railway cars, a huge stallion playing locomotive. Perhaps my broncho
felt the call of the band! Darkness dropped down on us before we could
get to the spring. We had to make a camp that was not exactly dry,
though there was no drinking water, for a drizzling rain, half snow, set
in, the snow serving to hold the accompanying rain on the surface. We
were wading in slush and it was a task to find a decent place for one's
blankets. Jones and I bunked together. His side of the bed was a slight
hollow, in consequence of which the melting slush formed under him a
chilly pool that interfered seriously with his slumbers. I happened to
be lying on a lump or ridge and kept fairly dry by never stirring the
whole night.

The rain ceased by morning and all day Tuesday we travelled toward the
Uinkaret Mountains over a comparatively level desert, but not going
rapidly, as we had a waggon. The ground having been softened by the rain
the wheels cut deeply, there being of course no road. A flock of
antelope blew by. We did not give them a second glance, as they were too
far off to be hunted. It was after dark when we arrived at the rocky
pool where we had before camped in March, which we learned now from
Chuar the natives called the Innupin (or Oonupin) Picavu, or Witch
Water-pocket. They said the locality was a favourite haunt of witches.
These were often troublesome and had to be driven away or they might
hurt one. There was plenty of wood and we were soon comfortable, with a
keen November wind to emphasise our blessings. The water in the pocket
was clear and pure, but it was full of small "wigglers." We tried to dip
up a pail which should be free from them. The Major, seeing our efforts,
took a cup and without looking drank it down with the nonchalant remark,
"I haven't seen any wigglers." The Pai Utes had killed some rabbits,
which they now skinned and cooked. I say cooked, but perhaps I should
say warmed. Dexterously stripping off the skins they slit open the
abdomen, removed the entrails, and, after squeezing out the contents by
drawing between thumb and fingers, they replaced the interminable string
in the cavity, closing the aperture with the ears, and stowed the
carcass in the hot ashes for a few minutes. Then they ate the whole
thing with complete satisfaction. We preferred to fry ours, without the
entrails, in a pan with bacon fat. Frequently the Major gave me little
talks on science, as he was much interested in my future career, and by
the fire this evening he instructed me in some of the fundamental
principles of natural philosophy. Chuar having had one of his men remove
his shoes, which were heavy "Mericats" ones, was reclining in a princely
way smoking a cigarette on a bank near the fire. Suddenly he rose to his
feet, intently listening and peering anxiously out through the
enveloping gloom of the pinons and cedars. I asked him what he heard.
"Oonupits," he whispered solemnly, never ceasing his watchful gaze. Then
cautiously aiming his long muzzle-loading rifle in the direction, he
fired a shot and seemed satisfied that the intruder was driven away or
destroyed. He described the noise of the Oonupits as a whistling sound.
He and his men had a habit of waking in the night in our various camps
and singing, first one beginning very low, the others joining in one by
one, and increasing the power as they did so till all were singing in
full voice. This woke us up. We threw things at them, but with no
effect. "What do you do it for?" said I to Chuar. "To drive away the
Oonupits," he answered.[38]

In the morning, November 6th, the Major, Prof. and I went off
reconnoitring and did not get back to camp till after dark, when we
found there a short, fat, Uinkaret whom Chuar introduced as
Teemaroomtekai, chief. In the settlements when he ventured to go there
he was known as Watermelon, according to Frank Hamblin, who was with us.
Teemaroomtekai had a companion and next day Prof. and the Major climbed
Mt. Trumbull with them. Wishing to have a talk with the Shewits we moved
on the 9th around to Oak Spring, near which some of them were encamped
with their kinsmen the Uinkarets. I was interested to see what the
slayers of the Howlands and Dunn looked like. Except for a wilder, more
defiant aspect, they differed little from other Pai Utes. Their country
being so isolated and unvisited they were surly and independent. The
Uinkarets on the other hand were rather genial, more like the Kaivavit
band. The Major traded for bags of food seeds, baskets, spoons made from
mountain sheep's horns, balls of compressed cactus fruit from which the
juice had been extracted for a kind of wine, rolls of oose-apple pulp,
which they ate like bread, etc., all for the Smithsonian Institution.

With the Shewits the Major and Prof. had a conference. Prof. wished to
make a reconnaissance through their region and explained to them what he
wanted to do. An agreement was reached by which he was to be permitted
without molestation of any kind to go anywhere and everywhere with two
Shewits for guides and one of our party as cook and helper, in order
that he could tell "Washington" about the country. The helper, however,
was to stick to the trail and remain in camp, so that he would know as
little as possible, and should not tell that little to the "Mormoni"
whom the Shewits disliked. Nathan Adams, a Mormon, was the man to
accompany Prof. and he did not enjoy the prospect at all. On Monday,
November 11th, the Major, Prof., and Jones climbed Mount Logan for more
data and took a general survey of the country, while I went out on foot,
climbed, measured and located eight large cinder-cones. When they came
down the Major said he had seen a fine, isolated mountain to the west
which he had called after me, and I naturally felt much pleased with the
honour of having my name stamped on the map.

The next day, November 12th, our party divided into three. Frank Hamblin
went out to St. George with the waggon after rations; Prof. with Nathan
Adams, one Shewits, named Paantung, and our guide "Judge," who may have
been a Shewits also for all we could tell, prepared for the entrance
into Shewits land, while the Major, Jones, and I proceeded to the foot
of the Toroweap, to a water-pocket near the edge of the Grand Canyon
called by the Uinkarets Teram Picavu. Chuar and Waytoots went back to
Kanab and we hired Uinkarets to carry our goods nine miles down to the
pocket, descending 1200 feet at one point over rough lava. After some
work at the canyon we went back to the spring on the 14th, the Uinkarets
again acting as our pack-horses. We had no salt left by this time and
very little food, but we killed some rabbits and cooked them on hot
coals, the adhering ashes making a substitute for salt. I reached the
spring first and found little, round, beaming, Teemaroomtekai, who knew
our plans, already there with a great big "Mericats" fire to welcome us,
as well as a large pile of wood for feeding it. The Major got in soon
after, but Jones failed to come at all, which worried us. Before we
could go in search of him in the morning he arrived. His horse had given
out, compelling him to stay where he was all night. We had travelled
hard up and down all kinds of hills, canyons, and mountains, with seldom
a trail, and it was wearing on the animals living only on bunch grass.

[Illustration: The Grand Canyon.

From North Side near Foot of Toroweap Valley, Uinkaret District.

Photograph by J. K. Hillers.]

I continued measuring and locating the oonagaritchets or cinder-cones,
of which there were more than sixty, and got in four more on the 15th.
Then the Major decided to move to another water-pocket the Uinkarets
told about, farther east across the lava, a pocket they called Tiravu
Picavu or Pocket-of-the-Plain. It was on the edge of the basaltic table
overlooking what they termed the Wonsits Tiravu or Antelope Plain. They
said there was no water now, but as one declared there was a little we
decided to go. While the Major followed a waggon-track leading to or
from St. George, wishing to make some special observations along it and
expecting to meet and stop Frank with the waggon now due, Jones and I
struck across on the moccasin trail, leaving our goods to be brought on
by the Uinkaret packers. At sunset we rounded a clump of cinder-cones
studding a black, barren waste. Far away across the Wonsits Tiravu rose
the red cliff land up and up to the eastern sky; behind was the great
bulk of Trumbull, together with scores of the smooth, verdureless heaps
of volcanic cinders. Everywhere near was the desert of basalt, with
nothing but the faint trail to point the way and the night slowly
enwrapping us. On we urged our stumbling, weary beasts, their iron
clinking on the metallic rocks; on till the thick blackness circled us
like a wall. Then we halted and built a little brush fire, thinking to
stay till dawn. At the instant a weird cry from far back fell leaden on
the strangely heavy winter air. Our packers saw where we were and
presently came to us. They were in a rage, pitching along in the dark
under their heavy loads. They were cold, tired, famished, for the way
had been long, the packs heavy. Frost was in the wind. They now
pretended not to know where the end was. I thought this was to see what
we would say or do. We did not care; we said and did nothing with all
the nonchalance born of the feeling that the further we went the worse
it was. Then one remembered. The pocket was near and he struck out for
it, the rest following as best we could through the thick night, the
guide occasionally lighting a torch of grass. After a quarter of a mile
he stopped in the bottom of a deep basaltic gulch. Here was the place.
The Uinkarets threw down their loads and squatted glum and silent. From
the hill Jones and I scraped together an armful of brush and got a small
fire started in the bottom of the desolate hollow. At the upper end of
it on a sort of bench eight feet wide was a depression covered with ice
three or four inches thick. With some difficulty pounding a hole through
this we found beneath a small amount of thick, slimy water, full of
green scum. We drank some, the Uinkarets drank some, but we could not
see well enough to get any out for the animals. We tied them to rocks to
prevent them from leaving in the night. The Indians thawed a little
under the influence of the fire, but they would barely speak when spoken
to. They skinned a wildcat they had killed on the way and boiled the red
meat briefly in our kettle and ate it like hungry wolves, while Jones
and I, all the time wondering what had become of the Major, made a light
lunch on some of our scanty supply. Then we climbed the hill, and
getting together a little more brush Jones sat keeping a signal fire
going as long as he had fuel. But the wind was keen and strong, wood
limited, and he gave it up. Spreading our blankets we went to sleep.
Morning came clear and sharp. I took my glasses and went up to scan the
country for some sign of the Major or our waggon and I rejoiced to
discover him not a quarter of a mile distant. He had headed for the
fire, and losing it kept on by a star till he thought he was near us,
when he made a small fire of his own, tied his mule, and waited for day.
We had a bite together and thawed out some of the ice in our kettle,
providing a diminutive drink for each horse; then leaving the natives in
charge of the baggage we rode down into the plain to find our waggon,
taking along our last bit of bread for lunch. In about ten miles we came
to it and Frank Hamblin gave us the latest news, "Grant elected and
Boston burned." After a lunch we turned back, making a camp at the foot
of the basalt, thawing out more ice for the animals, and giving the
Indians some food. About two o'clock the Major and I rode over to the
Innupin Picavu while Jones and the waggon went around, as it could not
cross the basalt. We arrived at seven, while the waggon did not come
till half past eleven, when we prepared a good supper for all hands,
turning in about three in the morning. Not a man awoke before ten,
though the strong sun fell on our faces. The animals were used up and we
did what we could on foot that day. I climbed four more cinder-cones,
reaching camp at dark. Every day I climbed several of the cones, but
some were so far away that I had to make a special camp from which to
operate. The waggon was loaded with ice from the water-pocket, and a
supply of provisions, and driven about seven miles to a basaltic gulch,
in a well-wooded locality on the edge of a treeless valley, where the
load was dropped and I was left with my horse. Before dark I gathered a
lot of wood, made a good fire, and melted some of the ice that formed my
water supply, in a brass kettle, watering my horse, which I then
tethered with a long rope where there was good grass. I did not intend
to waste time hunting my mount in the morning. After supper I spread my
blankets near the fire and by the light of a bright pinon blaze I began
to read _Great Expectations_, a paper edition with the last leaves gone
having gotten into camp. As I read Pip's interview in the twilight with
the convict on the dreary marshes I was in deep sympathy with the
desperate hunger of the terrible man, and when Mrs. Joe buttered the end
of the loaf and carved off the slices I myself was hungry enough to cook
supper over again. Butter had now been absent from my bill of fare, with
a few exceptions, for nearly two years. I was careful to place my fire
where it would be well screened and not easily seen from a distance. I
did not care to have any Shewits or even Uinkarets visit me and I hoped
they were all in their own camps, though I sometimes had a feeling that
one might be watching from the shadows of the great basaltic rocks.
This, of course, was due to the circumstances and not to any
probability, though I kept my Winchester near my hand. When I again got
back to the main camp the Major told me that the first night of my
absence several of the natives came in and, not seeing me around,
inquired my whereabouts. He gave them an evasive answer, believing that
it was quite as well not to apprise them of the situation.

The following day, Thursday, November 21st, I covered a wide territory,
climbing five cinder-cones a great distance apart and each quite high.
Several times I crossed recent moccasin tracks, but met no natives, and
at nightfall I was still a long way from my camp. When the darkness
became so dense that I could not see even faint outlines I took a star
for guidance till clouds blotted it out. Then I was completely adrift in
a sea of mountains. I could not tell one direction from another.
Throwing the reins on the broncho's neck I sat back in my saddle to see
what would come of it. Slowly, cautiously the animal plodded over
broken, rocky ground succeeded by smoother footing, as I could tell by
the motion, and in about an hour suddenly and quietly halted. I
perceived that I was in the midst of cedars. A light spot appeared
almost beneath. Dismounting I dropped to my hands and knees and found
that it was the ashes of my fire. The broncho, the same that had tried
to buck me off a few days before, had come back to the camp of a single
night, about the best example of horse sense that I ever experienced.
After another comfortable evening with Dickens I was prepared to go on
with my special task, and finished it in this place by climbing the
group of cones near the Tiravu Picavu the next day. About two in the
afternoon I got back to my camp with a very tired mount, but I loaded
all my traps on my saddle, the ice being almost exhausted, and started
to find a new locality where I was to meet the Major. My pack was high,
my broncho tired. While crossing a small open valley near sunset the
poor beast suddenly lay down with me. There being no water anywhere in
that locality, I was forced to use some brutality to get the animal up.
Without further incident I came to the place agreed on and found the
Major there in advance. We camped at the spot and the next day,
Saturday, November 23d, I climbed five more cones, reaching the camp at
sunset. Sunday the Major went on with his particular task while I added
six more of the cones to my list, getting back to the side camp late in
the day. The Major was to go in by himself when he was ready, so I took
all the outfit on my horse again, reached the Oak Spring trail at
sunset, and the main camp two hours after dark, glad enough to drop the
load of pails, bags, blankets, etc., in which my broncho sympathised
more deeply than could be expressed.

[Illustration: The Grand Canyon.

Storm Effect from South Rim.]

Monday morning, November 25th, we turned our faces toward Kanab, and I
climbed four more cones on the way out, overtaking the waggon about an
hour after dark. The night was very cold and I was ready to enjoy the
warmth of a fire by the time I reached the camp. In the morning we had a
visit from Lieutenant Dinwiddie of Lieut. Wheeler's survey. I rode over
to the cinder-cone region again and climbed the remaining ones, seven or
eight, reaching camp after dark, the days being very short at this time
of year. The camp had been moved nearer to the spring in the low line of
cliffs where we had halted coming out and the Major with his usual
original ideas had caused the waggon to be lowered by ropes into a deep
gulch. He had estimated that it was possible to go out through the
cliffs that way instead of going all the way around. His geological
knowledge did not lead him astray. There was no trouble whatever in
taking the waggon up the gulch, and when we emerged we were many miles
on the road to Pipe Spring, where the Major and I arrived in advance of
the others. We had dinner and he then went on alone to Kanab, where the
whole party arrived the next day--Thanksgiving Day. Prof. had come in on
the 25th by way of St. George, having had a successful tour through the
Shewits region, all agreements on both sides having been carried out to
the letter. He had been two weeks in the wild country and Adams declared
that to him the time was years, his only comfort being that he was
wearing his "endowment garment," a sure protection from all evil. Prof.
had climbed Mount Dellenbaugh, though the Shewits objected to Adams's
going up and he remained on the trail. It was found to be a basaltic
peak 6650 feet above sea-level, but only 1200 or 1500 above its base. On
the summit were the ruins of a Shinumo building circular in shape,
twenty feet in diameter, with walls remaining about two feet high. It
was not far from the base of this mountain that the Howlands and Dunn
were killed, Paantung, Prof.'s guide, saying it was done by some "no
sense" Shewits. Prof. was of the opinion that the guide had been of the
party himself.

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