Thomas Henry Huxley - "This is Essay #2 from Science and Hebrew Tradition"

Victor Hugo - "Actes et Paroles, vol. 3"

Washington Irving - "The Crayon Papers"

Woods Hutchinson - "A Handbook of Health"

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




At the Agency Prof. found out that Douglas Boy had eloped from the White
River country with his squaw, who was betrothed to another, and when we
first met him he was engaged in eluding pursuit. According to Ute law if
he could avoid capture for a certain time he would be free to return
without molestation to his village. Beaman photographed him and a number
of the Uintas under the direction of the Major, who wished to secure all
the information possible about the natives, their language, customs, and
costumes. We now spent several days arranging our new supplies in the
rubber sacks, putting the iron strips on the boat-keels, and doing what
final repairing was necessary. The topographers plotted the map work,
and all finished up their necessary notes and data. By the afternoon of
Friday, August 4th, all was in readiness for continuing the voyage. We
had now descended 1450 feet from our starting point towards sea-level
and we knew that the next canyon would add considerably to these
figures.


FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 10: Two days after crossing the San Clemente, as he called
White River, Escalante crossed the Rio San Buenaventura (Green River)
somewhere above the mouth of White River. Here were six large "black
poplars," on one of which they left an inscription. After resting two
days they went south-west along the Buenaventura, ten leagues, and from
a hill saw the junction of the San Clemente. He evidently went very near
the mouth of the Uinta, and then struck westward. The Uinta he called
Rio de San Cosme.]

[Footnote 11: A regiment of California volunteers marched this way from
Salt Lake on the way to Denver during the Civil War.]




CHAPTER VII

On to Battle--A Concert Repertory--Good-bye to Douglas
Boy--The Busy, Busy Beaver--In the Embrace of the Rocks Once
More--A Relic of the Cliff-Dwellers--Low Water and Hard
Work--A Canyon of Desolation--Log-cabin Cliff--Rapids and
Rapids and Rapids--A Horse, Whose Horse?--Through Gray Canyon
to the Rendezvous.


We were up early on the morning of August 5th prepared to leave Camp
32. Prof. took a lunar observation, and at eight we entered the boats
and turned our backs on "Fort" Robideau, the only house on or near the
whole river at that time from the mouth of the Virgin, to our Camp No. 1
where we had the snow-storm, a distance of about one thousand miles. We
had vanquished many rapids and now we pushed on ready for our next
battle with the river in the Canyon of Desolation, just before us. The
order of going was slightly changed in the absence of the Major, for
Prof., being now in sole command, went ahead with his boat, the _Nellie
Powell_, while ours, the _Emma Dean_, for the time being took second
place. The river for a brief distance ran smoothly with only enough
current, about two miles an hour, to help us along without hard rowing.
I missed the Major while we were on the water, probably more than any
one else in the party, for as we were facing each other the whole time
and were not separated enough to interfere with conversation we had
frequent talks. He sometimes described incidents which happened on the
first voyage, or told me something about the men of that famous and
unrivalled journey. Besides this he was very apt to sing, especially
where the river was not turbulent and the outlook was tranquil, some
favourite song, and these songs greatly interested me. While he had no
fine voice he sang from his heart, and the songs were those he had
learned at home singing with his brothers and sisters. One of these was
an old-fashioned hymn, _The Home of the Soul_, or rather the first two
verses of it. These verses were among his special favourites.[12]

"I will sing you a song of that beautiful land,
The far away home of the soul,
Where no storms ever beat on the glittering strand,
While the years of eternity roll,
While the years of eternity roll;
Where no storms ever beat on the glittering strand
While the years of eternity roll.

"Oh! that home of the soul in my visions and dreams,
Its bright jasper walls I can see;
Till I fancy but thinly the veil intervenes
Between the fair city and me
Till I fancy, etc."

Another was a pretty four-part song, _The Laugh of a Child_, of which he
sang the air. The words ran:

"I love it, I love it, the laugh of a child.
Now rippling, now gentle, now merry and wild.
It rings through the air with an innocent gush,
Like the trill of a bird at the twilight's soft hush,
It floats on the breeze like the tones of a bell,
Or music that dwells in the heart of a shell.
Oh, the laugh of a child is so wild and so free
'T is the merriest sound in the world to me."

Still another of which he sang the English words often was the
well-known air from _Figaro_. I give a few bars:

[Illustration:

_NON PIU ANDRAI_--PLAY NO MORE.
Air. Figaro.

Non piu andrai, far-fal-lo-ne a-mo-ro-so,
Not-te gior-no d'in-tor-no gi-ran-do;
Del-le bel-le tur-ban-do il ri-po-so,
Nar-ci-set-to, A-don-ci-no d'a-mor!
Del-le bel-le tur-ban-do il ri-po-so,
Nar-ci-set-to, A-don-ci-no d'a-mor!

Play no more, boy, the part of a lov-er,
Nor a-bout beau-ty fool-ish-ly hov-er;
In the wars you'll more pleasure dis-cov-er,
When your heart beats to glo-ry and fame!
In the wars you'll more pleasure dis-cov-er,
When your heart beats to glo-ry and fame!]

At times he imitated a certain pathetic yet comical old woman he had
heard singing at some camp-meeting, "The dear blessed Bible, the
Fam-i-ly Bible," etc. He told me one day that this fondness for singing,
especially amid extremely unpromising or gloomy circumstances, had on
more than one occasion led the men of the first expedition to suspect
his sanity. When he was singing, I could see that frequently he was
really not thinking about his song at all, but of something quite
foreign to it, and the singing was a mere accompaniment. Our party as a
whole commanded an extensive repertory of song for an exploring
expedition and while most of the voices were somewhat below concert
requirement, there was no one to object, and one of us, Jack, did have
an excellent voice. A song often heard was, _Shells of Ocean_ and also
that one most appropriate, _What Are the Wild Waves Saying?_ Then there
was _If I Had but a Thousand a Year, Gaffer Green_, and of course,
_Annie Laurie_. Never was there an American or an English expedition to
anywhere that did not have that song, as well as _Way Down upon the
Suwanee River_. In addition to all these and the ones previously
mentioned of which

"Oh, the lone starry hours give me Love
When still is the beautiful night,"

was a special favourite, Jack's individual repertory contained an
exhaustless number, both sad and gay. There were _Carry me Back to Old
Tennessee_, _The Sailor's Grave_, _Aura Lee_, with her golden hair, who
brought sunshine and swallows indiscriminately to each locality which
she graced with the said golden hair, and _Come where my Love Lies
Dreaming_, _Seeing Nellie Home_, and scores or at least dozens that I
fail to recall.

But while we had a great store of songs we were deficient to the last
degree in musical instruments, the one solitary example being an humble
mouth-organ which in a moment of weakness I had thrown in with my
outfit. We just escaped having a flute. Frank, who left us on the 10th
of June, possessed one, and when he was preparing to go Steward
negotiated for this instrument. He gave Cap. his revolver to trade for
it, considering the flute more desirable property for the expedition.
Cap., being an old soldier, concluded to fire at a mark before letting
the revolver pass forever from our possession. Presently there was an
explosion which demolished the pistol and all our prospects of acquiring
the musical treasure at one and the same moment. Possibly Fortune was
kinder to us than we dreamed. The mouth-organ then remained the sole
music machine in all that immense area. I did not feel equal to the
position of organist but Steward boldly took up the study, and practised
so faithfully that he became a real virtuoso.

As a boy in New York Jack, though not a Hibernian himself, had
associated closely with descendants of the Shamrock Isle, and he could
speak with a fine emerald brogue. A refrain of one of his songs in this
line was: "And if the rocks, they don't sthop us, We will cross to
Killiloo, whacky-whay!" This sounded our situation exactly, and it
became a regular accompaniment to the roaring of the rapids. Jack had
many times followed in the wake of the Thirteen Eagles fire company, one
of the bright jewels with a green setting, of the old volunteer service.
The foreman, fitting the rest of the company, was Irish too, and his
stentorian shout through the trumpet "Tirtaan Aigles, dis wai!" never
failed to rise above the din, and when the joyful cry smote the ears of
the gallant "Tirtaan," the rocks nor the ruts nor the crowds nor
anything could stop them; through thick and through thin they went to
the front, for there was rivalry in those days and when the Aigles time
after time got first water on, they won triumphs which we of this
mercenary epoch cannot understand. The Aigles were in for glory, nothing
else. So when we heard the roar of a rapid and sniffed the mist in the
air, "Tirtaan Aigles dis wai," was our slogan.

Where the river now ran smoothly, as it did for a considerable distance
below the Robideau crossing we could drift with the slow current and
enjoy the study of the surroundings, the boats requiring no attention.
Passing the mouths of the Uinta and the White, both rivers entering very
quietly through a level valley, we pulled gently along watching the
banks for something new. When we had thus gone a couple of miles we
discovered our first acquaintance of this valley, Douglas Boy, encamped
on the right with his runaway bride. They had a snug and secluded
hiding-place protected by the river and some low cliffs. We landed to
pay our parting call. Both had their faces completely smeared with the
bright vermilion obtained by trade from us, and they presented in our
eyes a ludicrous appearance. They had recently killed a fat deer and
seemed very happy. Prof. exchanged some sugar for enough venison for our
dinner and we said farewell to them, the first as well as the last human
beings we had met with in this valley. Clem, as usual, gave them various
messages for the "folks at home" and assured them with gracious smiles,
that they "would ever be the subject of his most distinguished
consideration." They smiled after us and we were soon beyond their
vision. Presently low cliffs, 100 to 150 feet began to show themselves,
on one side or the other, and the wide valley vanished. The great canyon
below was reaching out for us. There were numerous islands covered with
immense accumulations of driftwood or with growing cottonwoods where
high enough. Hundreds of beaver swam about. Occasionally a shot from the
boats would kill or wound one, but it was next to impossible to secure
any as they seemed to sink immediately to the bottom and we gave up
trying as long as they were in deep water. The stream being so tranquil
reading poetry was more to our taste than hunting the beaver, and Prof.
read aloud from Emerson as we slowly advanced upon the enemy.

After about nine miles of this sort of thing we stopped for dinner in a
pretty cottonwood grove at the foot of a cliff on the right with beaver
swimming around as if they did not know what a human being was. When our
venison had been disposed of the boats were shoved out into the river
again and we continued our approach to the canyon. The surrounding
region became a desolate waste; a broken desert plateau elevated above
us about two hundred feet. Some deer seen on an island caused us to land
and try to get a good shot at one, but we failed to get near enough for
success and they quickly disappeared. The ground was too difficult for
pursuit. After some seventeen miles, camp for the night was made in
another grove of rather small cottonwoods at 5.30. We were on a large
island with the surrounding waters thick with beaver busy every moment
though their great work is done at night. Many trees felled, some of
them of a considerable diameter, attested the skill and energy of these
animals as woodchoppers. Cap. tried to get one so that we could eat it,
but though he killed several he failed to reach them before they sank,
and gave it up.

As we looked around we saw that almost imperceptibly we had entered the
new canyon and at this camp (33) we were fairly within the embrace of
its rugged cliffs which, devoid of all vegetation, rose up four hundred
feet, sombre in colour, but picturesque from a tendency to columnar
weathering that imparted to them a Gothic character suggestive of
cathedrals, castles, and turrets. The next day was Sunday and as Beaman
felt sick and we were not in a hurry, no advance was made but instead
Prof. accompanied by Steward, Cap., and Jones climbed out for notes and
observations. They easily reached the top by means of a small gulch.
They got back early, reporting an increasing desolation in the country
on both sides as far as they could see. They also saw two graves of
great age, covered by stones. In the afternoon Prof. entertained us by
reading aloud from Scott and so the day passed and night fell. Then the
beavers became more active and worked and splashed around camp
incessantly. They kept it up all through the dark hours as is their
habit, but only Steward was disturbed by it. This would have been an
excellent opportunity to learn something about their ways, but for my
part I did not then even think of it.

By 7.30 in the morning of August 7th we were again on our way towards
the depths ahead, between walls of rapidly increasing altitude showing
that we were cutting into some great rock structure. Here and there we
came to shoals that compelled us to get overboard and wade alongside
lifting the boats at times. As these shoals had the peculiarity of
beginning gradually and ending very abruptly we got some unexpected
plunge baths during this kind of progression. But the air was hot, the
thermometer being about 90 deg. F., and being soaked through was not
uncomfortable. At one place Prof. succeeded in shooting a beaver which
was near the bank and it was secured before it could get to its hole,
being badly wounded. Steward caught it around the middle from behind and
threw it into the boat--he had jumped into the water--and there it was
finished with an oar. It measured three feet from tip to tip. We had
heard a good deal about beaver as food and would now have a chance to
try it. About eleven o'clock, we stopped for examinations and for dinner
on the right but, of course, could not yet cook the beaver. Prof.,
Steward, and Cap. climbed to the top of a butte 1050 feet above the
river upon which they found a small monument left there by the Major on
the former trip. Though this butte was so high the average of the walls
was only about five hundred feet. We made seventeen miles this day.

That night our camp (No. 35) was again on an island. There Cap. skinned
and dressed the beaver and turned over the edible portions to Andy who
cooked some steak for breakfast the next morning. It tasted something
like beef, but we were not enthusiastic for I fear this beaver belonged
to the same geological epoch as the goose we had cooked at the upper end
of the valley. Fortified by the beaver steak we pushed off and ran about
a mile on a smooth river when a stop was made for pictures and
geologising. This consumed the whole morning, a fact Andy took advantage
of to make some beaver soup for dinner. This concoction was voted not a
success and we turned to bacon and beans as preferable thereafter.
Opposite this dinner place was a rough lateral canyon full of turrets
and minarets which had the remarkable property of twice distinctly
repeating a shout as loud as the original, and multiplying a rifle shot
to peals of thunder. There had been people here before any white men,
for Steward found an artificial wall across an indentation of the cliff,
the first work of the ancient builders we had encountered. It was
mysterious at the time, the South-western ruins having then not been
discovered with one or two exceptions. We ascribed this wall, however,
to the ancestors of the Moki (Hopi).

In the afternoon as we pulled along we came to a small rapid and the
walls by this time being closer together and growing constantly higher,
we knew that we were now fairly within the Canyon of Desolation and for
about one hundred miles would have a rough river. Not more than two
miles below our dinner camp we reached a locality where the stream
doubled back on itself forming a vast and beautiful amphitheatre. We
could not pass this by without taking a picture of it and Beaman was
soon at work with his apparatus while I got out my pencils. The
photograph did not turn out well, and Prof. determined to remain till
the next day. Our camp was on the left in a thick grove of cottonwoods,
and box-elders or ash-leaved maples, at the end of the point. As the sun
sank away bats flew about and an insect orchestra began a demoniacal
concert that shrilled through the night and made us feel like
slaughtering the myriads if we could. The noises ceased with the day, or
most of them, though some seemed to intensify with the light. We helped
Beaman get his dark box and other paraphernalia up to the summit of the
ridge back of camp, which was easy so far as climbing was concerned, the
rocks rising by a series of shelves or steps. I made several pencil
sketches there, which I have never seen since the close of the
expedition. The crest of the promontory was about forty yards wide at
its maximum and three yards at the minimum, with a length of
three-fourths of a mile. From the middle ridge one could look down into
the river on both sides, and it seemed as if a stone could almost be
thrown into each from one standpoint. The opposite amphitheatre was
perhaps one thousand feet high, beautifully carved by the rains and
winds. It was named Sumner's Amphitheatre after Jack Sumner of the first
expedition. Several of our men climbed in different directions, but all
did not succeed in getting out. The day turned out very cloudy with
sprinkles of rain and Prof. decided to wait still longer to see if
Beaman could get a good photograph, and we had another night of insect
opera. The next day by noon the photographer had caught the scene and we
continued our descending way. The river was perfectly smooth, except a
small rapid late in the day, with walls on both sides steadily
increasing their altitude. Desolation in its beginning is exactly the
reverse of Lodore and Split Mountain. In the latter the entrance could
hardly be more sudden, whereas the Canyon of Desolation pushes its rock
walls around one so diplomatically that it is some little time before
the traveller realises that he is caught. The walls were ragged, barren,
and dreary, yet majestic. We missed the numerous trees which in the
upper canyons had been so ornamental wherever they could find a footing
on the rocks. Here there were only low shrubs as a rule and these mainly
along the immediate edge of the water, though high up on north slopes
pines began to appear. Altitude, latitude, and aridity combine to modify
vegetation so that in an arid region one notices extraordinary changes
often in a single locality. The walls still had the tendency to break
into turrets and towers, and opposite our next camp a pinnacle stood
detached from the wall on a shelf high above the water suggesting a
beacon and it was named Lighthouse Rock. Prof. with Steward and Cap. in
the morning, August 11th, climbed out to study the contiguous region
which was found to be not a mountain range but a bleak and desolate
plateau through which we were cutting along Green River toward a still
higher portion. This was afterwards named the Tavaputs Plateau, East and
West divisions, the river being the line of separation.

The walls now began to take on a vertical character rising above the
water 1200 to 1800 feet, and at that height they were about a quarter of
a mile apart. From their edges they broke back irregularly to a
separation as nearly as could be determined of from three to five miles,
the extreme summit being 2500 feet above the river.

[Illustration: Steward.

Canyon of Desolation.

Photograph by E. O. Beaman, 1871.]

While waiting for Prof. to come down from the cliffs, Beaman made some
photographs and then two boats dropped down a quarter of a mile where he
made some more and Andy got dinner. I remained with the _Nell_ and about
eleven o'clock the climbers came. We went down on the boat to the noon
camp, and as soon as we had refreshed the inner man we proceeded
thinking it about time for rapids to appear. We had not gone far before
we distinguished a familiar roar just preceding the turn of a bend which
disclosed three lying within half a mile. They were not bad but the
river was wide and shallow, making the descent more difficult than it
would ordinarily have been. The river was now approaching its lowest
stage, and we saw an uncomfortable looking lot of rocks. High water
makes easy going but increases the risk of disaster; low water makes
hard work, batters the boats, and delays progress, but as a rule it is
less risky. All the boats cleared the first rapid without any
difficulty, but in the second the _Nell_ struck a sunken rock, though
lightly, while our boat landed squarely on the top of a large boulder
partially submerged, where we hung fast with the water boiling furiously
around and almost coming over the sides. I tried to get out over the
port bow but the current drew me under the boat and I had to get back.
Jack concluded we were only fast by the extreme end of the keel and
Jones coming forward Jack slid cautiously out over the stern and felt
around with his feet till he touched the rock and put his weight on it.
Thus relieved, the boat lifted slightly and shot away like an arrow but
not before Jack leaped on again. As soon as we could we made land and
watched the _Canonita_ which fared still worse. She struck so hard that
two of the after ribs and some planks were stove in. They then
extricated her and pulling her up on the rocky shore we went to work to
repair with cleats made from a broken oar. This delayed us an hour and a
half. Then saws and hammers were stowed away and the third rapid was run
without a mishap. It was only the low stage of water that caused the
trouble. A little farther on a fourth rapid was vanquished and we went
into camp on the left bank in a cottonwood grove at the head of another.
"If the rocks, they don't sthop us," sang Jack, "We will cross to
Killiloo, whacky-whay!" And there were plenty of rocks in the midst of
foaming waters, but one great advantage of low water is the decreased
velocity, and velocity on a river like this with so heavy and constant a
fall is one of the chief factors to reckon with in navigation.

The high cliffs, two thousand feet, red and towering in the bright sun,
became sombre and mysterious as the night shadows crept over them, the
summits remaining bright from the last western rays when the river level
was dim and uncertain. There was plenty of driftwood, and our fires were
always cheery and comfortable. The nights were now quite cold, or at
least chilly, while the days were hot as soon as the sun came over the
edge of the cliffs. Through some of the narrow promontories at this
particular camp there were peculiar perforations suggesting immense
windows looking into some fairer land. I would have been glad to examine
some of these closely, but as it was not necessary they were passed by.
It would also have been difficult to reach them as they were very high
up.

The rapid at our camp was a starter the next day on a line of them
following one after the other till we had run without accident nine
before halting for dinner; and nine in 6-3/4 miles was not a bad record.
We landed for noon on the same spot where the first party had stopped
and our last night's camp was also coincident with theirs, according to
their map which we had for consultation. Prof. decided to remain here
for the rest of the day and also the next one which was Sunday. Up in a
high gulch some pine trees were visible, and Jack and I climbed up to
them and collected several pounds of gum for repairing the boats. Sunday
morning Prof., Jones, and Steward struck for the summit up the cliffs to
get observations. An hour and a half of steady hard work put them 2576
feet above the river, but they were still three hundred feet below the
general level of the great plateau which we were bisecting. Prof.
thought he would like to make better time down the river, which we could
easily have done up to this point, but if we arrived at the end of the
canyon too soon we would have to wait there and it was better to
distribute the wait as we went along. It was now August 14th and we were
not due below till September 3d.

Copyright (c) 2007. topboookz.com. All rights reserved.