Elisabeth Woodbridge - "More Jonathan Papers"

Harriet T. Comstock - "A Son of the Hills"

Edmond Holmes - "What Is and What Might Be"

Anonymous - "The Book Of The Thousand Nights And One Night, Volume III"

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




In the scant shelter of some greasewood bushes we devoured the repast
which the morning's exercise and the crisp air had made so welcome, and
each drank several cups of tea dipped from the camp-kettle wherein Andy
had boiled it. We had no formal table. When all was ready, the magic
words, "Well go fur it, boys," which Andy uttered stepping back from the
fire were ceremony enough. Each man took a tin plate and a cup and
served himself. Clem and Frank were sent back overland to the town for a
box of thermometers forgotten and for an extra steering oar left behind,
and the _Canonita_ waited for their return.

During the afternoon, as we glided on, the hills began to close in upon
us, and occasionally the river would cut into one making a high
precipitous wall, a forerunner of the character of the river banks
below. The order of going was, our boat, the _Emma Dean_, first, with
Major Powell on the deck of the middle cabin, or compartment, sitting in
his arm-chair, which was securely fastened there, but was easily
removable. S. V. Jones was at the steering oar, Jack Hillers pulled his
pair of oars in the after standing-room, while I was at the bow oars.
The second in line was the _Nellie Powell_, Professor A. H. Thompson
steering, J. F. Steward rowing aft, Captain F. M. Bishop forward, and
Frank Richardson sitting rather uncomfortably on the middle deck. The
third and last boat was the _Canonita_, which E. O. Beaman, the
photographer steered, while Andrew Hattan, rowed aft, and Clement
Powell, assistant photographer, forward. This order was preserved, with
a few exceptions, throughout the first season's work. It was the duty of
Prof. and Jones to make a traverse (or meander) of the river as we
descended. They were to sight ahead at each bend with prismatic
compasses and make estimates of the length of each sight, height of
walls, width of stream, etc., and Cap was to put the results on paper.
The Major on his first boat, kept a general lookout and gave commands
according to circumstances. He remembered the general character of the
river from his former descent, but he had to be on the _qui-vive_ as to
details. Besides every stage of water makes a change in the nature of
the river at every point. In addition to this outlook, the Major kept an
eye on the geology, as he was chief geologist; and Steward, being
assistant geologist did the same. Richardson was assistant to Steward.
Jack was general assistant and afterwards photographer. I was artist,
and later, assistant topographer also. It was my duty to make any sketch
that the geologists might want, and of course, as in the case of
everybody, to help in the navigation or anything else that came along.
Each man had a rifle and some had also revolvers. Most of the rifles
were Winchesters.[3] We had plenty of ammunition, and the rifles were
generally kept where we could get at them quickly.

In this order, and with these duties, we ran on down the Green, and so
far at least as I was concerned, feeling as if we had suddenly stepped
off into another world. Late in the afternoon we were astonished to
discover a solitary old man sitting on the right bank fishing. Who he
was we did not know but we gave him a cheer as we dashed by and were
carried beyond his surprised vision. As the sun began to reach the
horizon a lookout was kept for a good place for camp. I, for one, was
deeply interested, as I had never yet slept in the open. At length we
reached a spot where the hills were some distance back on the right
leaving quite a bottom where there were a number of cottonwood trees. A
deserted log cabin silently invited us to land and, as this was cordial
for the wilderness, we responded in the affirmative. The sky had a look
of storm about it and I was glad of even this excuse for a roof, though
the cabin was too small to shelter our whole party, except standing up,
and the beds were all put down on the ground outside. The night was very
cold and the fire which we made for Andy's operations was most
comforting. We had for supper another instalment of bacon,
saleratus-bread, and tea, which tasted just as good as had that prepared
at noon. Sitting on rocks and stumps we ate this meal, and presently the
raw air reminded some of the smokers that, while they had thrown their
tobacco away there was, in the boats, the quite large supply designed
for our Red friends, should we meet any. Of course we had more than was
absolutely necessary for them, and in a few minutes the pipes which had
been cast away at Green River appeared well filled and burning. Perhaps
we had pipes for the Indians too! I had not thrown my pipe away for it
was a beautifully carved meerschaum--a present. I knew just where it was
and lighted it up, though I was not a great smoker. The Indians did not
get as much of that tobacco as they might have wished.

To make our blankets go farther we bunked together two and two, and
Jones and I were bed-fellows. It was some time before I could go to
sleep. I kept studying the sky; watching the stars through the ragged
breaks in the flying clouds. The night was silent after the gale. The
river flowed on with little noise. The fire flickered and flickered, and
the cottonwoods appeared dark and strange as I finally went to sleep. I
had not been long in that happy state before I saw some men trying to
steal our boats on which our lives depended and I immediately attacked
them, pinning one to the ground. It was only Jones I was holding down,
and his shouts and struggles to reach his pistol woke me, and startled
the camp. He believed a real enemy was on him. There was a laugh at my
expense, and then sleep ruled again till about daylight when I was
roused by rain falling on my face. All were soon up. The rain changed to
snow which fell so heavily that we were driven to the cabin where a
glorious fire was made on the hearth, and by it Andy got the bread and
bacon and coffee ready for breakfast, and also for dinner, for the snow
was so thick we could not venture on the river till it stopped, and that
was not till afternoon.

The country through which we now passed was more broken. Cliffs, buttes,
mesas, were everywhere. Sometimes we were between high rocky banks, then
we saw a valley several miles wide, always without a sign of occupation
by white men, even though as yet we were not far from the railway in a
direct course. Very late in the afternoon we saw something moving in the
distance on the right. Our glasses made it out to be two or three men
on horseback. A signal was made which they saw, and consequently stopped
to await developments, and a bag of fossils, the Major had collected,
was sent out to them with a request to take it to Green River Station,
in which direction they were headed. They proved to be a party of
prospectors who agreed to deliver the fossils, and we went on our way.

The mornings and evenings were very cold and frosty, but during the day
the temperature was perfectly comfortable, and this was gratifying, for
the river in places spread into several channels, so that no one of them
was everywhere deep enough for the boats which drew, so heavily laden,
sixteen or eighteen inches. The keels grated frequently on the bottom
and we had to jump overboard to lighten the boats and pull them off into
deep water. We found as we went on that we must be ready every moment,
in all kinds of water, to get over into the river, and it was necessary
to do so with our clothes on, including our shoes, for the reason that
the rocky bottom would bruise and cut our feet without the shoes, rocks
would do the same to our legs, and for the further reason that there was
no time to remove garments. In the rapids further on we always shipped
water and consequently we were wet from this cause most of the time
anyhow. We had two suits of clothes, one for wear on the river in the
day time, and the other for evening in camp, the latter being kept in a
rubber bag, so that we always managed to be dry and warm at night. On
making camp the day suit was spread out on rocks or on a branch of a
tree if one were near, or on a bush to dry, and it was generally, though
not always, comfortably so, in the morning when it was again put on for
the river work. Sometimes, being still damp, the sensation for a few
moments was not agreeable.

We snapped several of the lighter oars in the cross currents, as the
boats were heavy and did not mind quickly, and to backwater suddenly on
one of the slender oars broke it like a reed. Some of the longer,
heavier oars were then cut down to eight feet and were found to be
entirely serviceable. The steering oars were cut down from eighteen to
sixteen feet. Extra oars were carried slung on each side of the boats
just under the gunwales, for the Major on the former journey had been
much hampered by being obliged to halt to search for timber suitable for
oars and then to make them. There was one thing about the boats which we
soon discovered was a mistake. This was the lack of iron on the keels.
The iron had been left off for the purpose of reducing the weight when
it should be necessary to carry the boats around bad places, but the
rocks and gravel cut the keels down alarmingly, till there was danger of
wearing out the bottoms in the long voyage to come.[4]

Jack was a great fisherman, and it was not long before he tried his luck
in the waters of the Green. No one knew what kind of fish might be
taken--at least no one in our party--and he began his fishing with some
curiosity. It was rewarded by a species of fish none of us had ever
before seen, a fish about ten to sixteen inches long, slim, with fine
scales and large fins. Their heads came down with a sudden curve to the
mouth, and their bodies tapered off to a very small circumference just
before the tail spread out. They were good to eat, and formed a welcome
addition to our larder. We were all eager for something fresh, and when
we saw a couple of deer run across the bluffs just before we reached our
fourth camp, our hopes of venison were roused to a high degree. Camp
number four was opposite the mouth of Black's Fork at an altitude above
sea level of 5940 feet, a descent of 135 feet from the railway bridge.
After this the channel was steadier and the water deeper, Black's Fork
being one of the largest tributaries of the upper river. We now came in
view of the snowy line of the Uinta Range stretching east and west
across our route and adding a beautiful alpine note to the wide barren
array of cliffs and buttes. It was twenty or thirty miles off, but so
clear was the air that we seemed to be almost upon it.

As we were drifting along with a swift current in the afternoon, the day
after passing Black's Fork, one of the party saw a deer on an island. A
rifle shot from our boat missed, and the animal dashing into the river
swam across and disappeared in the wide valley. But another was seen. A
landing was made immediately, and while some of the men held the boats
ready to pick up a prize, the others beat the island. I was assigned to
man our boat, and as we waited up against the bank under the bushes, we
could hear the rifles crack. Then all was still. Suddenly I heard a
crashing of bushes and a hundred yards above us a superb black-tail
sprang into the water and swam for the east bank. My sensation was
divided between a desire to see the deer escape, and a desire to
supplant the bacon with venison for a time. My cartridges were under the
hatches as it chanced, so I was unable to take action myself. With deep
interest I watched the animal swim and with regret that our fresh meat
was so fortunate, for it was two-thirds of the way across, before a
rifle cracked. The deer's efforts ceased instantly and she began to
drift down with the current. We ran our boat out and hauled the carcass
on board. At the same time as we were being carried down by the swift
current we got a view of the other side of the island where Cap. up to
his arms in the stream was trying to pull another deer ashore by the
horns. It looked as if both deer and Cap. would sail away and forever,
till another boat went to his rescue. Presently the third boat came down
bearing still another deer. The successful shots were from Prof., Andy,
and Steward. Our prospects for a feast were bright, and we had it. The
deer were speedily dressed, Frank displaying exceptional skill in this
line. Had we been able to stay in this region we would never have been
in want of fresh meat, but when we entered the canyons the conditions
were so different and the task of pursuing game so baffling and
exhausting that we never had such success again. The whole of the next
day we remained in a favourable spot at the foot of a strangely tilted
ledge, where we jerked the venison by the aid of sun and fire to
preserve it. Near this point as observations showed later we passed from
Wyoming into Utah.

About dusk we were surprised to discover a small craft with a single
individual aboard coming down the river. Then we saw it was a raft. We
watched its approach with deep interest wondering who the stranger could
be, but he turned out to be Steward who had gone geologising and had
taken this easier means of coming back. He tried it again farther down
and met with an experience which taught him to trust to the land
thereafter.

[Illustration: Flaming Gorge.

The Beginning of the Colorado River Canyons, N. E. Utah.

Photograph by E. O. Beaman, 1871.]

The next day our boat was held back for some special work while the
others proceeded toward a high spur of the Uintas, directly in front of
us. We followed with a fierce and blinding gale sweeping the river and
filling our eyes with sharp sand. Nevertheless we could see high up
before us some bright red rocks marking the first canyon of the
wonderful series that separates this river from the common world. From
these bright rocks glowing in the sunlight like a flame above the
grey-green of the ridge, the Major had bestowed on this place the name
of Flaming Gorge. As we passed down towards the mountain it seemed that
the river surely must end there, but suddenly just below the mouth of
Henry's Fork it doubled to the left and we found ourselves between two
low cliffs, then in a moment we dashed to the right into the beautiful
canyon, with the cliffs whose summit we had seen, rising about 1300 feet
on the right, and a steep slope on the left at the base of which was a
small bottom covered with tall cottonwood trees, whose green shone
resplendent against the red rocks. The other boats were swinging at
their lines and the smoke of Andy's fire whirling on the wind was a
cheerful sight to the ever-hungry inner-man. Constant exercise in the
open air produces a constant appetite. As long as we could protect our
cargoes, and make our connections with our supplies as planned, we would
surely not have to go hungry, but we had to consider that there was room
for some variation or degree of success. There was at least one
comforting feature about the river work and that was we never suffered
for drinking water. It was only on side trips, away from the river that
we met this difficulty, so common in the Rocky Mountain Region and all
the South-west.

When the barometrical observations were worked out we found we had now
descended 262 feet from our starting-point. That was four and a quarter
feet for each mile of the sixty-two we had put behind. We always
counted the miles put behind, for we knew they could not be retraced,
but it was ever the miles and the rapids ahead that we kept most in our
minds. We were now at the beginning of the real battle with the "Sunken
River." Henceforth, high and forbidding cliffs with few breaks, would
imprison the stream on both sides.

A loss of our provisions would mean a journey on foot, after climbing
out of the canyon, to Green River (Wyoming) to Salt Lake City or to the
Uinta Indian Agency. There was a trail from Brown's Hole (now Brown's
Park) back to the railway, but the difficulty would be to reach it if we
should be wrecked in Red Canyon. We did not give these matters great
concern at the time, but I emphasise them now to indicate some of the
difficulties of the situation and the importance of preventing the wreck
of even one boat.


FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 3: Two were of the original Henry pattern.]

[Footnote 4: For further description of these boats the reader is
referred to _The Romance of the Colorado River_, page 236, by F. S.
Dellenbaugh.]




CHAPTER III

The First Rapid--Horseshoe and Kingfisher Canyons--A Rough
Entrance into Red Canyon--Capsize of the _Nell_--The Grave of
a Bold Navigator--Discovery of a White Man's Camp--Good-bye to
Frank--At the Gate of Lodore.


Prof. now took observations for time and latitude in order to fix with
accuracy the geographical location of the camp in Flaming Gorge, and to
check the estimates of the topographers as they sighted the various
stretches of the river. It has been found that estimates of this kind
are quite accurate and that the variation from exactness is generally
the same in[5] the same individual. Hence one man may underestimate and
another may overestimate, but each will always make the same error, and
this error can be readily corrected by frequent observations to
determine latitude and longitude. A series of barometrical observations
was kept going whether we were on the move or not. That is, a mercurial
barometer was read three times a day, regularly, at seven, at one, and
at nine. We had aneroid barometers for work away from the river and
these were constantly compared with and adjusted to the mercurials. The
tubes of mercury sometimes got broken, and then a new one had to be
boiled to replace it. I believe the boiling of tubes has since that time
been abandoned, as there is not enough air in the tube to interfere with
the action of the mercury, but at that time it was deemed necessary for
accuracy, and it gave Prof. endless trouble. The wind was always
blowing, and no tent we could contrive from blankets, and waggon sheets
(we had no regular tents), sufficed to keep the flame of the alcohol
lamp from flickering. Nevertheless, Prof. whose patience and dexterity
were unlimited, always succeeded. The mercurial barometers were of the
kind with a buckskin pocket at the bottom of the cistern with a screw
for adjusting the column of mercury to a fixed point.

Most of the men climbed out in various directions and for various
objects. Prof. reached a high altitude whence he obtained a broad view
of the country, a grand sight with the quiet river below and snow-capped
mountains around, with rolling smoke and leaping flame, for there were
great mountain fires not far off. The Major and Steward went
geologising. Steward was rewarded by discovering a number of fossils,
among them the bones of an immense animal of the world's early day, with
a femur ten inches in diameter, and ribs two inches thick and six inches
wide. These bones were much exposed and could have been dug out, but we
had no means of transporting them.

Flaming Gorge is an easy place to get in and out of, even with a horse,
and doubtless in the old beaver-hunting days it was a favourite resort
of trappers. I am inclined to think that the double turn of the swirling
river where it enters Flaming Gorge is the place known at that time as
the Green River Suck. Our camp under the cottonwoods was delightful. We
took advantage of the halt to write up notes, clean guns, mend clothes,
do our washing, and all the other little things incident to a breathing
spell on a voyage of this kind. It was Sunday too, and when possible we
stopped on that account, though, of course, progress could not be
deferred for that reason alone.

Monday morning we left the pleasant camp in the grove and went on with
the tide. The river was rough from a heavy gale, but otherwise offered
no obstacle. At a sudden bend we cut to the left deeper into the
mountain till on both sides we were enclosed by almost perpendicular
precipices of carboniferous formation, limestone, about 1600 feet high.
The canyon was surprisingly beautiful and romantic. The river seemed to
change its mood here, and began to flow with an impetus it had exhibited
nowhere above. It swept on with a directness and a concentration of
purpose that had about it something ominous. And just here, at the foot
of the right hand wall which was perpendicular for 800 feet, with the
left more sloping, and clothed with cedar shrubs, we beheld our first
real rapid, gleaming like a jewel from its setting in the sunlight which
fell into the gorge, and it had as majestic a setting as could be
desired. For myself I can say that the place appeared the acme of the
romantic and picturesque. The rapid was small and swift, a mere chute,
and perhaps hardly worthy of mention had it not been the point where the
character of the river current changes making it distinguished because
of being the first of hundreds to come below. The river above had held a
continual descent accelerating here and retarding there with an average
current of two and a half miles an hour, but here began the quick drops
for which the canyons are now famous. There was one place where Prof.
noted a small rapid but it was not like this one, and I did not count it
at all.

[Illustration: Horseshoe Canyon.

Photograph by E. O. Beaman, 1871.]

The gorge we ran into so suddenly was short and by dinner-time we had
emerged into a wider, more broken place, though we were still bound in
by tremendous heights. We saw that we had described a complete horseshoe
and this fact determined the canyon's name--number two of the series.
When we landed for dinner, an examination was made of the locality from
that base before we dropped down a little distance to the mouth of a
fine clear creek coming in from the right. This was a fascinating place.
The great slopes were clothed with verdure and trees, and the creek ran
through luxuriant vegetation. A halt of a day was made for observation
purposes. The air was full of kingfishers darting about and we
immediately called the creek by their name.

I was sent with Steward on a geological expedition out over the right or
western cliffs. We consumed two hours in getting out, having to climb up
about 1000 feet over a difficult way. After a good deal of going up and
down across rough ridges, we finally worked our way around to the head
of Flaming Gorge. Here we reckoned up and found that eight steep ridges
intervened between us and camp by the way we had come, and we concluded
that we could get back easier through Flaming Gorge and thence by
climbing over the tongue or base of the horseshoe which was lower than
the end. Steward grew decidedly weary and I felt my legs getting heavy
too. Rain had fallen at intervals all day and we were wet as well as
tired and famished. We struck an old trail and followed it as long as it
went our way. Then it became too dark to see which way it went and we
climbed on as best we could. It was about half-past eight when we
reached our camp to find a splendid fire burning and a good supper
waiting for us.

The new canyon which closed in the next day had walls about 1500 feet in
height, that being the general height of the spur of the Uintas through
which we were travelling. The changes from one canyon to another were
only changes in the character of the bounding mountain walls, for there
was no break into open country. The name of Kingfisher we gave to the
new gorge for the same reason we had called the creek at our camp by
that name, and so numerous were these birds at one rounded promontory
that there was no escape from calling it Beehive Point, the resemblance
to a gigantic hive being perfect. Kingfisher Canyon like its two
predecessors was short, all three making a distance by the river of only
about ten miles. Flaming Gorge is the gateway, Horseshoe the vestibule,
and Kingfisher the ante-chamber to the whole grand series. At the foot
of Kingfisher the rocks fell back a little and steep slopes took their
place. Where the rocks closed in again, we halted on the threshold of
the next gorge, in a fine grove of cottonwoods. A significant roar came
to us out of the gate to Red Canyon, rolling up on the air with a
steady, unvarying monotony that had a sinister meaning. It was plain
that we were nearing something that was no paltry gem like the rapid we
had so much admired in Horseshoe Canyon.

The remainder of that day and all the next, which was June 1st, we
stayed at this camp completing records, investigating the surroundings,
and preparing for rough work ahead. On Friday morning the cabins were
packed carefully, the life preservers were inflated, and we pulled out
into the current. The cliffs shot up around us and rough water began at
once. The descent was almost continuous for a considerable distance, but
we divided it into three rapids in our notes, before we reached a sharp
turn to the right, and then one just as sharp to the left, with vertical
walls on both sides and a roaring torrent, broken by rocks, whirling
between. Our boat shot down with fierce rapidity and would have gone
through without a mishap had not the current dashed us so close to the
right-hand wall that Jack's starboard row-lock was ripped off by a
projection of the cliff as we were hurled along its rugged base. At the
same moment we saw the _Nell_ upsetting against some rocks on the left.
Then we swept out of view and I was obliged to pull with all my
strength, Jack's one oar being useless. We succeeded in gaining a little
cove on the left, and jumped out as soon as shallow enough, the Major
immediately climbing the cliffs to a high point where he could look down
on the unfortunate second boat. Prof., it seems, had misunderstood the
Major's signal and had done just what he did not think he ought to do.
He thought it meant to land on the left and he had tried to reach a
small strip of beach, but finding this was not possible he turned the
boat again into the current to retrieve his former position, but this
was not successful and the _Nell_ was thrown on some rocks projecting
from the left wall, in the midst of wild waters, striking hard enough to
crush some upper planks of the port side. She immediately rolled over,
and Frank slid under. Prof. clutched him and pulled him back while the
men all sprang for the rocks and saved themselves and the boat from
being washed away in this demoralised condition. With marvellous
celerity Cap. took a turn with a rope around a small tree which he
managed to reach, while Steward jumped to a position where he could
prevent the boat from pounding. In a minute she was righted and they got
her to the little beach where they had tried to land. Here they pulled
her out and, partially unloading, repaired her temporarily as well as
they could. This done they towed up to a point of vantage and made a
fresh start and cleared the rapid with no further incident. Meanwhile
the _Canonita_ had come in to where we were lying, and both boats were
held ready to rescue the men of the other. After about three-quarters of
an hour the unfortunate came down, her crew being rather elated over the
experience and the distinction of having the first capsize.

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