A Canyon Voyage

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

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It was decided to run the rapid, for there was a comparatively straight
channel about ten feet wide, and it was only a question of steering
right. As our boat was to take it first the other crews came to a point
where they could watch us to advantage and profit by our experience.
Sticks, as usual, had been thrown in to determine the trend of the main
current which must always be considered in dealing with any rapid. If it
dashes against a cliff below, means must be found to cut across before
reaching that point. On the other hand, if the main current has a
comparatively clear chute, running through is not a difficult matter as
in the present case. We pulled up-stream a short distance before putting
out into the middle. Then we took the rapid as squarely as possible. We
saw that we would have to go sharply to the left to avoid one line of
rocks, and then to the right to clear another, both of which actions
were successfully accomplished. Then we waited below for the others.
They had no trouble either, and the three boats sped on and on into the
greater depths beyond where wilder waters were foaming.

All rapids have "tails" of waves tapering out below, that is the waves
grow smaller as they increase the distance from the initial wave. These
waves are the reverse of sea waves, the form remaining in practically
one place while the water flies through. In many rapids there is an eddy
on each side of this tail in which a current runs up-river with great
force. If a boat is caught in this eddy it may be carried a second time
through a part of the rapid. We soon arrived at another rapid in which
this very thing happened to our boat. We were caught by the eddy and
carried up-stream to be launched directly into the path of the _Nell_,
which had started down. Prof. skilfully threw his boat to one side and
succeeded in avoiding a collision. Nothing could be done with our boat
but to let her go where she would for the moment. We then ran two other
rapids, rough ones too, but there was no trouble in them for any of the
boats. The velocity at this stage of water was astonishing, and the
opportunities to land in quiet water between the rapids now were few.

[Illustration: Canyon of Lodore.

Low water.

Photograph by J. K. Hillers, 1874.]

About dinner-time as we emerged at high speed from one rapid we saw
immediately below lying in ominous shadow, another. It had a forbidding
look. In Red Canyon owing to the east-and-west trend the sun fell to the
bottom for many more hours than in Lodore which has a north-and-south
trend. Hence here even at high noon, one side or the other might be in
deep shadow. In this particular case it was the left wall which came
down very straight to the river, the outside of a bend. Opposite was a
rocky, wooded point. Between these the rapid swept down. There was no
slack water separating the end of the rapid we left from the beginning
of this one so obscurely situated. Landing was no easy task at the speed
with which we were flying, but it would not do to try to run the rapid
without an examination. The only possible place to stop was on the right
where there was a cove with a little strip of beach, and we headed for
it instantly, pulling with every muscle. Yet we continued going on down
at railway speed. When at last we arrived within a few feet of the bank
the problem was how to stop. The water appeared shallow, though we could
not see bottom on account of its murky character, and there was only one
course, which was to jump out and make anchors of our legs. As we did so
we sank to our waists and were pulled along for a moment but our feet,
braced against the large rocks on the bottom, served the purpose and the
momentum was overcome. Once the velocity was gone it was easy to get the
boat to the beach, and she was tied there just in time to allow us to
rush to the help of the _Nell_.[7] Scarcely had the _Nell_ been tied up
than the _Canonita_ came darting for the same spot like a locomotive.
With the force on hand she was easily controlled, and the fact that she
carried the cook outfit as well as the cook added to our joy at having
her so speedily on the beach. Andy went to work immediately to build a
fire and prepare dinner while the rest overhauled the boats, took
observations, plotted notes, or did other necessary things, and the
Major and Prof. went down to take a close look at the rapid which had
caused us such sudden and violent exertion. They reported a clear
channel in the middle, and when we continued after dinner, we went
through easily and safely, as of course we could have done in the first
place if the Major had been willing to take an unknown risk. But in the
shadow the fall might have been almost anything and it would have been
foolhardy to run it without examination, even though we found it so hard
to stop. Below the rapid that had halted us so abruptly there was
nothing for about a mile but easy running, when we stopped in a cove to
examine another rapid. Prof. here started up eleven mountain sheep, but
by the time he had come back to the boats for a gun they were beyond
reach. Though this rapid could be easily run, there was just below it
only a short distance the fall where the _No-Name_ was wrecked on the
first trip, and we would have to be cautious, for the approach to that
fall we knew was treacherous.

The river comes at this point from the east, bends south, then west, and
it is just at the western bend that the steep rush of the big fall
begins and continues for three-quarters of a mile. On the right the
waters beat fiercely against the foot of the perpendicular wall, while
on the left they are confined by a rocky point, the end of which is
composed of enormous blocks. The space for the stream between this point
and the opposite cliff is narrow, while the river above it spreads
rather wide with a deep bay on the left where there is quiet water. This
bay is protected a quarter of a mile up by a jutting point, and is
merely back water. Just off the point the whole river suddenly becomes
saucer-like, and quite smooth, with all the currents drawing strongly in
from every direction and pouring toward and over the falls. An object
once within the grip of this "sag," as we called it, is obliged to pass
over the falls. The situation is peculiar and it occurs nowhere else on
the whole river. Not being understood on the first voyage one of the
boats, the _No-Name_, was trapped, driven over the falls, and broken to
fragments, though the men were rescued below. The disaster was the cause
of some unpleasantness on that voyage, the men blaming the Major for not
signalling properly and he blaming them for not landing quickly when he
signalled.

We were on the lookout for it and the Major having the wreck to
emphasise the peculiarities of the "sag" desired to have every boat turn
the point at the correct moment. Ours ran through the preliminary rapid
easily and we dropped cautiously down upon our great enemy, hugging the
left bank as closely as we could to reach the jutting point around which
the boat must pass to arrive in the safe waters of the bay. We turned
the point with no difficulty, and proceeded a distance across the bay
where we landed on a beach to watch for the other boats, the steersmen
having been informed as to the precariousness of the locality.
Nevertheless it was so deceptive that when the _Nell_ came in sight she
was not close enough to the left shore for safety. The Major signalled
vigorously with his hat, and Prof. took the warning instantly and turned
in, but when the _Canonita_ appeared we saw at once that she was
altogether too far out and for some seconds we stood almost petrified
while the Major again signalled with all his might. It seemed an even
chance; then she gained on the current and finally reached good water
whence she came to our position. Beaman had been a pilot on the Great
Lakes and was expert with a steering-oar, and probably for that reason
he was somewhat careless. There was hardly an excuse in this instance
for a boat not to take the proper course for the experience of the
_No-Name_ told the whole story, yet the place is so peculiar and unusual
that one even forewarned may fail. Across the bay pulling was safe and
we ran to a beach very close to the head of the falls where we made our
camp, the sun now being low and the huge cliffs casting a profound and
sombre shadow into the bottom. It was a wild, a fierce, an impressive
situation. The unending heavy roar of the tumbling river, the difficulty
if not impossibility of turning back even if such a thing had been
desired, the equal difficulty if not impossibility of scaling the walls
that stood more than 2000 feet above us, and the general sublimity of
the entire surroundings, rendered our position to my mind intensely
dramatic. Two years before, on this identical spot the Major had camped
with the loss of one of his boats bearing heavily on his mind, though
his magnificent will, his cheerful self-reliance, and his unconquerable
determination to dominate any situation gave him power and allied him to
the river itself. The place practically chose its own name, Disaster
Falls, and it was so recorded by the topographers.

A hard portage was ahead of us and all turned in early to prepare by a
good sleep for the long work of the next day. No tent as a rule was
erected unless there was rain, and then a large canvas from each boat
was put up on oars or other sticks, the ends being left open. In a
driving storm a blanket would answer to fill in. As there was now no
indication of a storm our beds were placed on the sand as usual with the
sides of the canyon for chamber walls and the multitudinous stars for
roof.

A short distance below the great rapid near which we were camped was a
second equally bad, the two together making up the three-quarter mile
descent of Disaster Falls. Between them the river became level for a
brief space and wider, and a deposit of boulders and gravel appeared
there in the middle above the surface at the present stage of water. It
was this island which had saved the occupants of the _No-Name_, and from
which they were rescued.

We were up very early in the morning, and began to carry the cargoes by
a trail we made over and around the huge boulders to a place below the
bad water of the first fall. The temperature was in the 90's and it was
hot work climbing with a fifty-pound sack on one's back, but at last
after many trips back and forth every article was below. Then the empty
boats were taken one at a time, and by pulling, lifting, and sliding on
skids of driftwood, and by floating wherever practicable in the quieter
edges of the water, we got them successfully past the first fall. Here
the loads were replaced, and with our good long and strong lines an inch
thick, the boats were sent down several hundred yards in the rather
level water referred to intervening between the foot of the upper fall
and the head of the lower, to the beginning of the second descent. This
all occupied much time, for nothing could be done rapidly, and noon
came, in the midst of our work. Anticipating this event Andy had gone
ahead with his cook outfit and had baked the dinner bread in his Dutch
oven. With the usual fried bacon and coffee the inner man was speedily
fortified for another wrestle with the difficult and laborious
situation. The dinner bread was baked from flour taken out of a
hundred-pound sack that was found lying on top of an immense boulder far
above the river. This was flour that had been rescued by the former
party from the wreckage of the _No-Name_, but as they could not add it
to their remaining heavily laden boats, the Major had been compelled to
leave it lying here. They needed it badly enough towards the end. It was
still sweet and good, but we could not take it either. We were so much
better provisioned than the former party that it was, besides, not
necessary for us, and we also left it where it was. Our supplies were
not likely to fail us at the mouth of the Uinta, and beyond that there
was not yet need to worry. Although there were only two points below
Gunnison Crossing in a distance of nearly 600 miles where it was known
that the river could be reached, the Crossing of the Fathers and the
mouth of the Paria not far below it, we felt sure that those who had
been charged with the bringing of supplies to the mouth of the "Dirty
Devil" would be able to get there, and as we were to stop for the season
at the Paria, we would have time to plan for beyond. In any case our
boats were carrying now all they could, and without a regret we turned
our backs on the outcast flour. It was an ordinary sack of bolted wheat
flour, first in a cotton bag then in a gunny bag and had been lying
unbroken for two years. The outside for half an inch was hard, but
inside of that the flour was in excellent condition. Two oars were also
found. They were doubtless from the _No-Name_.

[Illustration: F. S. Dellenbaugh

The Heart of Lodore.

Photograph by E. O. Beaman, 1871.]

After dinner we once more unloaded the boats and carried everything on
our backs up and across a long rocky hill, or point, down to a spot,
about a third of a mile altogether, where the goods were piled on a
smooth little beach at the margin of a quiet bay. It took many trips,
and it was exhausting work, but in addition to bringing the cargoes
down, we also by half past five got one of the boats there, by working
it over the rocks and along the edge. Here we camped and had supper as
soon as Andy could get it ready. It may be asked by some not familiar
with scientific work, how we always knew the time, but as we had the
necessary instruments for taking time astronomically, there was nothing
difficult about it. We also carried fine chronometers, and had a number
of watches.

In the sand near the camp, which place at highest water might have
formed an eddy behind some huge rocks, a few old knives, forks, a rusty
bake oven, and other articles were found, the wreckage from some party
prior to that of the Major's first. He said they had not left anything
of that sort, and he had noticed the same things on the former trip.

The total fall of the river here is about fifty feet, and no boat could
get through without smashing.

The morning of June 20th found us early at work bringing down the two
boats we had left, and as soon as this was accomplished the cargoes were
put on once more, and we lowered the three one at a time, along the left
bank by means of our hundred-foot hawsers, with everything in them,
about a quarter of a mile to another bad place which we called Lower
Disaster Falls. Here we unloaded and made a short portage while Andy was
getting dinner. When we had disposed of this and reloaded, we pulled
into the river, which averaged about 350 feet wide, with a current in
places of 15 miles or more, and quickly arrived at three bad rapids in
succession, all of which we ran triumphantly, though the former party
made portages around them. In the third our boat took in so much water
that we made a landing in order to bail out. Continuing immediately we
reached another heavy rapid, but ran it without even stopping to
reconnoitre, as the way seemed perfectly clear. We took the next rapid
with equal success, though our boat got caught in an eddy and was turned
completely round, while the others ran past us. They landed to wait, and
there we all took a little breathing spell before attempting to run
another rapid just below which we made camp in a grove of cedars, at the
beginning of a descent that looked so ugly it was decided to make a
"let-down" on the following day. Everybody was wet to the skin and glad
to get on some dry clothes, as soon as we could pull out our bags. The
cliffs had now reached an altitude of at least 2500 feet, and they
appeared to be nearly perpendicular, but generally not from the water's
edge where there was usually a bank of some kind or the foot of a steep
talus. There were box-elder and cottonwood trees here and there, and
cedars up the cliffs wherever they could find a footing. On the heights
tall pine trees could be seen. The cliff just opposite camp was almost
vertical from the rapid at its foot to the brink 2500 feet above, and
flame red.

After supper as we all sat in admiration and peering with some awe at
the narrow belt of sky, narrower than we had before seen it, the stars
slowly came out, and presently on the exact edge of the magnificent
precipice, set there like a diadem, appeared the Constellation of the
Harp. It was an impressive sight, and immediately the name was bestowed
"The Cliff of the Harp."[8]

Prof. read _Marmion_ aloud, and Jack gave us a song or two, before we
went to sleep feeling well satisfied with our progress into the heart of
Lodore.

This portion of the river has a very great declivity, the greatest as we
afterwards determined on the entire Green and Colorado with the
exception of a section of Cataract and a part of the First Granite Gorge
of the Grand Canyon, where the declivity is much the same, with Cataract
Canyon in the lead. A quarter-mile above our camp a fine little stream,
Cascade Creek, came in on the right. Beaman made some photographs in the
morning, and we began to work the boats down along the edge of the rapid
beside which we had camped. This took us till noon, and we had dinner
before venturing on. When we set forth we had good luck, and soon put
four rapids behind, running the first, letting down past two and running
the fourth which was a pretty bad one. Three-quarters of a mile of
smooth water then gave us a respite much appreciated, when we arrived at
a wild descent about as bad as Disaster Falls, though more safely
approached. This was called Triplet Falls by the first party. We went
into camp at the head of it on the left bank. This day we found a number
of fragments of the _No-Name_ here and there, besides an axe and a vise
abandoned by the first party, and a welcome addition to our library in a
copy of _Putnam's Magazine_. This was the first magazine ever to
penetrate to these extreme wilds. The river was from 300 to 400 feet
wide, and the walls ran along with little change, about 2500 feet high.
Opposite camp was Dunn's Cliff, the end of the Sierra Escalante, about
2800 feet high, named for one of the first party who was killed by the
Indians down in Arizona. We remained a day here to let the topographers
climb out if they could. They had little trouble in doing this, and
after a pleasant climb reached the top through a gulch at an altitude
above the river of 3200 feet. The view was extensive and their efforts
were rewarded by obtaining much topographical information. Late in the
day the sky grew dark, the thunder rolled, and just before supper we had
a good shower.

[Illustration: Canyon of Lodore--Dunn's Cliff.

2800 Feet above River.

Photograph by E. O. Beaman, 1871.]

On the 23d progress was continued and every one felt well after the
cessation for a day of the knocking about amidst the foam and boulders.
It took us, with hard work, till two o'clock to get past Triplet Falls
by means of a double portage. About half a mile below this we were
confronted by one of the worst looking places we had yet seen, and at
the suggestion of Steward it received the significant name of "Hell's
Half Mile." The entire river for more than half a mile was one sheet of
white foam. There was not a quiet spot in the whole distance, and the
water plunged and pounded in its fierce descent and sent up a deafening
roar. The only way one could be heard was to yell with full lung power.
Landing at the head of it easily we there unloaded the _Dean_ and let
her down by line for some distance. In the worst place she capsized but
was not damaged. Then the water, near the shore we were on, though
turbulent in the extreme became so shallow on account of the great width
of the rapid here that when we had again loaded the _Dean_ there were
places where we were forced to walk alongside and lift her over rocks,
but several men at the same time always had a strong hold on the shore
end of the line. In this way we got her down as far as was practicable
by that method. At this point the river changed. The water became more
concentrated and consequently deeper. It was necessary to unload the
boat again and work her on down with a couple of men in her and the rest
holding the line on shore as we had done above. When the roughest part
was past in this manner, we made her fast and proceeded to carry her
cargo down to this spot which took some time. It was there put on board
again and the hatches firmly secured. The boat was held firmly behind a
huge sheltering rock and when all was ready her crew took their places.
With the Major clinging to the middle cabin, as his chair had been left
above and would be carried down later, we shoved out into the swift
current, here free from rocks, and literally bounded over the waves that
formed the end of the descent, to clear water where we landed on a snug
little beach and made the boat secure for the night. Picking our way
along shore back to the head of the rapid, camp was made there as the
darkness was falling and nothing more could be done that night.

[Illustration: Jones, Hillers, F. S. Dellenbaugh

Canyon of Lodore.

Photograph by E. O. Beaman, 1871.]

It was next to impossible to converse, but every one being very tired it
was not long after supper before we took to the blankets and not a man
was kept awake by the noise. It seemed only a few moments before it was
time to go at it again. All hands were up early and the other two boats
were taken laboriously down in the same manner as the _Dean_ had been
engineered, but though we toiled steadily it was one o'clock by the time
we succeeded in placing them alongside that boat. Anticipating this,
Andy's utensils were taken down on the _Nell_, and while we were working
with the _Canonita_, our good chef prepared the dinner and we stopped
long enough to fortify ourselves with it. Having to build a trail in
some places in order to carry the goods across ridges and boulders, it
was not alone the work on lowering the boats which delayed us. While we
were absorbed in these operations the camp-fire of the morning in some
way spread unperceived into the thick sage-brush and cedars which
covered the point, and we vacated the place none too soon, for the
flames were leaping high, and by the time we had finished our dinner at
the foot of the rapid, the point we had so recently left was a horrible
furnace. The fire was jumping and playing amidst dense smoke which
rolled a mighty column, a thousand feet it seemed to me above the top of
the canyon; that is over 3000 feet into the tranquil air.

At two o'clock all three boats were again charging down on a stiff
current with rather bad conditions, though we ran two sharp rapids
without much trouble. In one the _Nell_ got on a smooth rock and came
near capsizing. The current at the spot happened to be not so swift and
she escaped with no damage. Then we were brought up by another rapid, a
very bad one. Evening was drawing on and every man was feeling somewhat
used up by the severe exertions of the day. Camp was therefore ordered
at the head of this rapid in the midst of scenery that has probably as
great beauty, picturesqueness, and grandeur as any to be found in the
whole West. I hardly know how to describe it. All day long the
surroundings had been supremely beautiful, majestic, but at this camp
everything was on a superlative scale and words seem colourless and
futile. The precipices on both sides, about 2200 feet high, conveyed the
impression of being almost vertical. Our camp was several hundred yards
from the rapid and we could talk with some comfort. After supper I
wandered alone down beside the furiously plunging waters and came upon a
brood of young magpies airing themselves on the sand. The roar of the
fall prevented their hearing and I walked among them, picked one up and
took it to camp to show their comicality, when I let it go back to the
rendezvous. I was censured especially by the Major, for cruelty to
animals.

The next day was Sunday and it came with a radiance that further
enhanced the remarkable grandeur around us. Near by was a side canyon of
the most picturesque type, down which a clear little brook danced from
ledge to ledge and from pool to pool, twenty to thirty feet at a time.
We named it Leaping Brook. The rocks were mossy, and fir trees, pines,
cedars, and cottonwoods added the charm of foliage to the brilliant
colours of the rocks and the sheen of falling water, here and there lost
in the most profound shadows. Beaman made a number of views while the
rest of the men climbed for various purposes. Steward, Clem, and I by a
circuitous route arrived at a point high up on Leaping Brook where the
scene was beyond description. To save trouble on the return we descended
the brook as it was easy to slide down places that could not be climbed.
In this manner we succeeded in getting to the last descent near camp, to
discover that it was higher than we thought and almost vertical with
rough rocks at the bottom. As we could not go back and had no desire to
break a leg, we were in trouble. Then we spied Jack in the camp a short
distance away and called to him to put a tree up for us. Good-natured
Jack, always ready to help, assumed a gruff tone and pretended he would
never help us, but we knew better, and presently he threw up a long dead
pine which we could reach by a short slide, and thus got to the river
level. It was now noon, and as soon as dinner was over the boats were
lowered by lines past the rapid beside camp and once below this we shot
on our way with a fine current, soon arriving at two moderate rapids
close together, which we ran. This brought us to a third with an ugly
look, but on examination Prof. and the Major decided to run it. Getting
a good entrance all the boats went through without the slightest mishap.
A mile below this place we landed at the mouth of a pretty little stream
entering through a picturesque and narrow canyon on the left. We called
it Alcove Brook.

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