A Canyon Voyage

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

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On Monday morning we pushed and pulled and lifted the boats through a
shallow rapid half a mile long. It was hard work. Then came one which we
ran, but the following drop was deemed too risky to trust our boats in,
and they were lowered by lines. Then in a short distance this same
process was repeated with hard work in a very bad place, and when we had
finished that we were tired, hungry, wet, and cold, so under a
cottonwood tree on the right we stopped for needed refreshment, and
while it was preparing most of us hung our clothes on the branches of a
fallen tree to dry. The rapid foaming and fuming presented so vigorous
an appearance and made so much noise we thought it ought to be named,
and it was called Fretwater Falls. At three o'clock we took up our oars
again and were whirled along at runaway speed through a continuous
descent for half a mile. After another half-mile a small rapid appeared,
which we dashed through without a second thought, and then came our
final effort of the day, a line-portage over a particularly bad spot. It
was a difficult job, requiring great exertion in lifting and pushing and
fending off, so when Prof. gave the word to camp on the left, we were
all glad enough to do so. We had made only 5-1/4 miles and seven rapids.
The let-downs had been hard ones, with a couple of men on board to fend
off and two or three on the hawser holding back.

The next morning, August 15th, we made another let-down around a bad
piece of river, and ran two or three small rapids before dinner. At the
let-down the water dropped at least ten feet in two hundred yards, and
Prof. estimated thirty in half a mile. The river was also narrow, not
more than sixty or seventy feet in one place. Many rocks studded the
rapids, and great caution had to be exercised both in let-downs and in
runs, lest the boats should be seriously injured. With two or three more
feet of water we could have run some that were now impossible.
Fortunately there was always plenty of room on both banks, the cliffs
being well back from the water. A series of small rapids gave us no
special trouble, and having put them behind, we ran in at the head of a
rough-looking one, had dinner, and then made a let-down. Starting on, we
soon came to a very sharp rapid, which we ran, and found it was only an
introduction to one following that demanded careful treatment. Another
let-down was the necessary course, and when it was accomplished we
stopped for the night where we were on the sand, every man tired, wet,
and hungry. We had made only four miles. A significant note of warning
was found here in the shape of fragments of the unfortunate _No-Name_
mixed up with the driftwood, fully two hundred miles below the falls
where the wreck occurred.

The precipices surrounding us had now reached truly magnificent
proportions, one section near our camp springing almost vertically to a
height of 2800 or 3000 feet. On the dizzy summit we could discern what
had the appearance of an old-fashioned log-cabin, and from this we
called it "Log-cabin Cliff." The cabin was in reality a butte of shale,
as we could see by means of our glasses, and of course of far greater
size than a real cabin, but from below the illusion was complete. At
this camp, No. 40, we remained the next day, Prof. wishing to make some
investigations. He and Jones crossed to the other side and went down on
foot two or three miles; then returning he went up some distance, while
the rest of us mended our clothes, worked up notes, and did a score of
little duties that had been neglected in the river work. Jack and I
climbed up the cliffs and got more pine gum, with which we caulked up
the seams in our boat. Cap. kindly turned barber and redeemed me from
the danger of being classed as orang-outang. The air was too hazy for
photographing or for getting observations from the summit, and Prof.
concluded to stay till next day at this place and then go to the top of
the world; in other words, to the summit. Very early in the morning,
August 17th, Steward and Cap. started with Prof. for the climb. Keeping
up the main canyon for a mile they came to a side gorge where Prof. had
been the day before, which they followed for half a mile and then boldly
mounted the cliffs, reaching an altitude of 3100 feet above the river.
While they were gone, Jack and I climbed after more pine gum, and
succeeded in getting five or six pounds for future use. As I was
descending along a terrace, Jack being some distance behind and above, a
fine, large mountain sheep, sleek and clean, with beautiful strong
horns, sprang along four or five hundred feet from me, and stopped in
full view listening to Jack's footsteps. I had no gun, and could only
admire him till he bounded lightly away.

About one o'clock the climbing party came back. Steward had shot a
mountain sheep with a revolver, only to find that a deep canyon
intervened between him and his prize and there was no way of getting it.

About half past two we shoved out into the river again, running a small
rapid immediately. The water was so shallow that our keel struck a
number of times but no damage was done. We had hardly cleared this when
we arrived at a drop of about six feet in a few yards with the whole
river filled with bad rocks. At this place, according to the map made by
the first party, their _Emma Dean_ was capsised. We made a let-down and
a quarter of a mile farther on repeated the operation should be.
Following this were some swift shoals which brought us to another ugly
descent where the _Nell_ stove a hole in her side and came near
upsetting. Prof. was knocked half out of the boat but got in again. The
other boats we lowered by lines and they passed through uninjured. Near
this point a fine clear little stream about a rod wide entered from the
west. After running two more rapids Prof. decided to camp which we did
on the right, Camp 41. Our run footed up 3-3/4 miles. Our camp was in
some cottonwoods and we had to cross a wide rocky bar to get to it but
it was preferable to camping on the sand. In this canyon there was
generally a valley about one-quarter mile wide on one side or the other,
and with the abundant supply of driftwood for fires and a whole river
for drink we fared well. The great canyon now appeared deeper than at
any point above, about three thousand feet we estimated, the walls being
extremely precipitous. One cliff not far from camp appeared to be
nearly perpendicular.

Steward got up very early the next morning in order to mend his shoes,
and he succeeded so well as cobbler, we declared he had missed his
calling, but we did not start till ten o'clock, waiting for Beaman to
take views. The first thing we then did was to run a very shallow rapid,
followed by another, long, difficult, narrow, and rocky. Then there was
a short, easy one, with the next below compelling a very hard let-down.
There was nothing but rocks, large rocks, so close together that it was
all we could do to manoeuvre the boats between them. There was no
channel anywhere. For the greater part of the way we had to pull them
empty over the rocks on driftwood skids which taxed our muscles
considerably and of course saturated our clothing for half the time we
were in the water, as was always the case at let-downs. This over we had
our noon ration of bread, bacon, and coffee and took a fresh start by
running a nice, clear rapid and then another a half-mile below, and we
thought we were getting on well when we saw ahead a fall of some ten
feet in fourteen rods, turbulent and fierce. The only prudent thing for
this rapid was a let-down and we went at it at once. It was the usual
pulling, hauling, fending, and pushing, but we got through with it after
a while and naming it at the suggestion of some one, Melvin Falls, we
went on to the eighth and last rapid for the day. This was half a mile
long and very rocky, but it was thought we could run it and all went
through safely except the _Nell_ which caught her keel on a rock and
hung for a moment, then cleared and finished with no damage. We made
Camp 42 on a sand-hill. These hills were a feature of the wide banks,
being blown up by the winds, sometimes to a height of fifteen or twenty
feet. Our run for the day was less than five miles, yet as we had passed
eight rapids one way and another, we were all pretty tired and of course
wet and hungry. A good big camp-fire was quickly started, our dry
garments from the rubber bags donned in place of the flapping wet ones,
and we were entirely comfortable, with the bread baking in the Dutch
oven, the coffee or tea steaming away, and the inspiring fragrance of
frying bacon wafted on the evening air. When we stopped long enough Andy
would give us boiled beans or stewed dried apples as a treat. If we
desired to enliven the conversation all that was necessary was to start
the subject of the "light" back at the camp where we first met Douglas
Boy. Every one would soon be involved except Prof. who only laughed and
inserted from time to time a well-chosen remark to keep up the interest.
Jack would always give us a half-dozen songs and to this Steward would
add a solo on the mouth-organ. The evenings were growing longer, and we
sat closer to the fire. Sometimes Cap. and Clem would play a game of
euchre, but no one else seemed to care anything about cards. Our beds,
when possible, were made by first putting down willows or cedar twigs in
regular order, on which the blankets would be spread making a luxurious
bed on which sleep instantly overtook us, with the sound of falling
water generally the last thing and the first in our ears.

At 7.30 the next morning, August 19th, we were speeding on our way and
ran the rapid which had sent its lullaby to our camp. Another came right
after it, shallow and bad, and then one more where the channel was beset
with innumerable boulders hidden under the surface. Happily the boats
were not seriously damaged, they needed no repairs, and we kept on to
the next barrier which proved to be not runable with any prospect of
getting through whole so we made a portage. Then there was a rapid we
ran easily, but as if to revenge itself for making one gentle for us,
the river obliged us to work a laborious passage at the next two. We had
good hard work, lowering by lines, wading alongside where necessary to
ease the boats, or clinging to their sides where the water was deep,
while the men on shore at the hawser's end lowered away to a shallow
place. We were glad to halt at 11.30 for dinner, and a short rest.

There was a heavy rapid beside us as we ate, and Steward named it
Chandler Falls. It had a descent of about twelve feet in twenty rods. On
the opposite side of the river a clear little creek came in, and this
was named Chandler Creek, Chandler being the maiden name of Steward's
wife. Beaman and Clem selected a position with their photographic outfit
and made some photographs of us as we were working the boats through. A
mile below we halted on the right for Beaman to get more views. None of
his photographs of the rapids came out well as the plates were too slow.
Up a gulch on the right we could see a remarkable topographic feature,
nothing less than a gigantic aperture, or natural arch, in the cliff. It
had a span of at least 300 feet with a height of about half as much. It
was 1500 or 1800 feet above the river. Hundreds of cedar trees grew
around the arch on the ledges of the huge wall through which it was cut
by the action of the elements.

The cliffs everywhere were now becoming more broken, and there was an
entrance somewhere from the back country, or it may have been up the
canyon, for we discovered remains of tipis and camps with metates or
grinding stones, the first evidences of human beings we had seen since
the "Moki" wall. This and the breaking of the cliffs caused us to
believe that we were nearing the end of the canyon. Prof. with Jones and
Steward went down-stream on foot for a distance to see what was coming
next and found a stretch of very bad water. On the return a rattlesnake
struck at Steward but luckily failed to hit him. Steward killed it. We
concluded to stop for the night where we were with the day's
record--four rapids run, three let-downs, and 4-5/8 miles in distance.
This camp was not satisfactory and we got out of it early the next
morning. While Beaman was making some views across the river we lowered
the other two boats through one rapid and then ran them through a second
in three-quarters of a mile to a better camping place, from which we
went back and helped the third boat, the _Canonita_, do the same. Prof.
wanted to climb out, but the morning being half gone he planned to start
after dinner and meanwhile he read Emerson aloud to us till Andy shouted
his "Go fur it boys!" Accompanied by Steward and Clem, in the afternoon
he climbed up 1200 or 1500 feet to a point where he could see down the
river two or three miles. They counted seven rapids, and confirmed the
belief that the walls were breaking. The surrounding country was made up
of huge ridges that ran in toward the river from five miles back.

Our Camp 44 was in a little valley about a quarter of a mile wide, the
bottom covered with cedars and greasewood. The scenery was still on a
magnificent scale but barren and desolate. The next morning, August
21st, we were under way at 7.30 and plunged almost immediately into the
rapids which had been sighted from the cliffs above. In a little over
four miles we let down six times. A seventh rapid we ran and then
stopped for noon on the left, every man, as usual, soaking wet. A little
rain fell but not enough to consider. After dinner four more rapids were
put behind; we ran all but one at which we made a let-down. Our record
for this day was eleven rapids in a trifle less than seven miles, and we
were camped at the head of another rapid which was to form our
eye-opener in the morning. The walls receded from the river
three-fourths of a mile and now, though still very high, had more the
appearance of isolated cliffs.

We had not a single unpleasant incident till Beaman on this day ran one
rapid contrary to Prof.'s orders. He was sharply reprimanded, and for
the time being his tendency to insubordination and recklessness was
checked. He probably did not mean to be either, but his confidence in
his ability to steer through anything led him astray. In the evening by
the camp-fire light Prof. read aloud from _Miles Standish_. Although a
heavy wind blew sand all over us, no one seemed to complain.

The next morning, August 22d, the first thing we did was to run the
rapid beside our camp, a beautiful chute, swift, long, and free from
rocks. Immediately below this was one half a mile long in the form of a
crescent, the river making a sharp bend with a bad current, but we ran
it. This was, in fact, a part of the other rapid, or it might be so
classed, as was frequently the case where the descent was nearly
continuous from one rapid to another. The river was very narrow at this
place, not more than seventy-five feet wide. We had not gone far before
we reached a rapid where it was prudent to lower the boats, and not more
than a few hundred yards below this there was another of a similar
character but necessitating harder work. Then we were brought face to
face with one more that could not be run with safety on the present
stage of water, though we ran a part of it and made a let-down past the
remainder. When this was finally accomplished with everything in good
order, we found ourselves in front of still another that refused to
grant us clear passage, and we worked the boats down with lines as in
the previous rapids without removing the cargoes. The method was the
usual one for the let-downs, three or four men on the line and a couple
on board the boat to manoeuvre and protect her. Having by this time
advanced three and one-eighth miles from last night's camp we stopped
for dinner. On taking up the oars again the first rapid was a fine,
clear descent with extremely large waves, through which all three boats
dashed with exhilarating speed, leaping part of their length out of the
water as their velocity carried them zipping over the crests. Our boat
happened to strike near the finish on a submerged rock to the right of
the main channel and near shore and there she hung for some moments. The
first boat had landed below and some of the men quickly came up to where
I could throw them our line, and this pulled us off without any damage
worth mentioning. A little below this we ran another successfully and
had not gone far before we were astonished at the sight of a horse
grazing unconcernedly on some low bluffs on the right. Prof. had
discovered this horse with his field glass while we stopped above to
examine one of the rapids. He thought it might indicate the presence of
the Major, or of Indians, but he did not mention the matter to any of
us. When we were at a good point, and just as all hands had discovered
the animal, he ordered a sharp landing on the same side. We ran in
quickly. Prof. went up the bank and gave several shouts while we held
ourselves ready for action. There was no response. He then went to the
horse and found it very lame which, coupled with the absence of any
indication of visitors within recent months, caused us to conclude that
the horse had been abandoned by Indians who had been encamped here a
good while before. We left the place and running another rapid, a little
one, we came to a fine spot for a camp on the right at the beginning of
a heavy rapid, and there we stayed for the night.

There was now a marked change in the geology, and fossiliferous beds,
which for a long time had been absent, appeared. The canyon walls also
broke away considerably. The next morning it was decided that we should
remain at this camp till after dinner for observation work. I went out
with Steward to help him gather fossils, and Beaman took some views,
while the others occupied themselves with various duties. The afternoon
began by letting the boats by line past the rapid at camp which Beaman
called Sharp Mountain Falls, from a pointed peak overhead. There was a
drop of about fifteen feet in thirty rods. Beaman wanted to photograph
us in the midst of our work, and got ready for it, but a rain-storm came
on and we had to wait till it cleared for him to get the picture. We
then went ahead dashing through a pretty rapid with a swift current, and
next had a long stretch of rapid, though not difficult river, making in
all 2-3/4 miles, and camping at five o'clock on the left. The only
trouble we had was that in choosing one of four channels our boat got
where she was inevitably drawn into the top of a sunken dead tree lodged
in the rocks and my starboard row lock was broken off. On shore Steward
killed another rattlesnake, of which there seemed to be a good many
along the river.

We were now actually out of the Canyon of Desolation and in the
beginning of what the Major at first called Coal Canyon, then Lignite,
and finally Gray, the name it bears to-day, because of the colour of the
walls. The division between the two canyons was the break down where we
had seen the horse. Casting up we found that the Canyon of Desolation is
ninety-seven miles long. Early the next morning, August 24th, we pulled
away from Camp 47 soon running two small rapids of no consequence, and
in three miles came to a descent of some ten feet in a very short space,
where we made a let-down. Three fair rapids were next run easily when we
halted to examine a hard-looking place where we let down again. An
encounter with three more, two of them each a quarter of a mile long,
took us till noon, though we ran them and we came to a stop for dinner.
Now the walls had narrowed, the canyon being about half a mile wide at
the top--sometimes not more than a quarter. The colour was buff, and
there were seams of coal and lignite in places. On one or the other side
the cliffs were nearly vertical for about three hundred feet then
breaking back to jagged heights reaching about two thousand feet. After
dinner having run two more rapids without trouble we arrived at a very
difficult locality where the first cliffs, six hundred feet high, came
down vertically on both sides quite close to the water. We saw how we
could navigate it, but at flood time it would be a most serious
proposition, as there would be no footing on either side, unless,
perhaps on the huge masses of fallen rock. At the present stage we were
able to let the boats down by lines. Then we had two easy rapids,
followed by another not more difficult but less safe. A little farther
on we ran two more which completed the record for the day, and we were
glad to camp with a total run of 12-3/8 miles, and many rapids with
three let-downs. A feature of the cliffs this day was numerous alcoves
and grottoes worn into the sandstone some of them like great caverns
with extremely narrow canyons leading into them.

In the morning Prof. with Jones, Cap., and Steward climbed out. The
country was elevated above the river about two thousand feet, a wild
labyrinth of ragged gulches, gullies, and sharp peaks devoid of
vegetation except a few pinons on some slopes, the whole presenting a
picture of complete desolation. At a quarter past twelve we were again
gliding down on a stiff current. We ran seven easy rapids and let-down
by lines twice, before arriving about three o'clock at the mouth of a
stream-bed sixty feet wide, which Prof. said was Little White, or Price
River. The mouth was so devoid of water that we camped on the smooth
sand, it being the only ground free from brush. A sudden rise or
cloud-burst would have made it an active place for us but we decided to
take the risk for one night. Prof. and Jones tried to get out by
following up this river bed but they were not successful. Game was
abundant and they thought there might be an Indian trail but they saw
none. In the evening Steward gave us a mouth-organ recital and Jack sang
a lot of his songs in fine style. The air was soft and tranquil, and
knowing we had now conquered the Canyon of Desolation without a serious
mishap we all felt well satisfied.

In the morning, August 25th, breakfast was disposed of early, the boats
were put in trim and away we went again on a good current running many
rapids and making one let-down in a distance of eight miles. I counted
fourteen rapids, Steward ten or eleven, Prof. only eight, showing that
it is not always easy to separate the rapids where they come so close
together. In one the river was no more than thirty feet wide with big
waves that made the boats jump and ship water. We reached a bend and
saw the end of the canyon only a mile or two away, but we had to make
the let-down mentioned before we got there. Our camp, Number 50, was
made about noon, just inside the mouth of the canyon on the left,
opposite a high, beautiful pinnacle we called Cathedral Butte afterwards
changing the name to Gunnison. Here we would wait till the time
appointed for the Major to join us according to the plan. Gray Canyon
was now also behind us with its thirty-six miles and numerous rapids.
Adding to it the ninety-seven miles of Desolation made the total canyon
from Wonsits Valley 133 miles with a descent of about 550 feet
distributed through a hundred rapids, some small, some heavy. The entire
fall from our starting point was now some two thousand feet. Prof. and
Jones went down the valley two miles with the hope of seeing signs of
the Major but not a human being was to be found anywhere.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 12: Many, many years after the canyon voyage as Major Powell
with his sister, Mrs. Thompson, and Professor Thompson were approaching
Fort Wingate in New Mexico, the sun was setting, and sky and rocks
combined to produce a glorious picture. Suddenly he asked his companions
to halt and sitting on their horses looking into the wonderful sky he
sang with them the above two stanzas.]

CHAPTER VIII

Return of the Major--Some Mormon Friends--No Rations at the
Elusive Dirty Devil--Captain Gunnison's Crossing--An All-night
Vigil for Cap. and Clem--The Land of a Thousand Cascades--A
Bend Like a Bow-knot and a Canyon Labyrinthian--Cleaving an
Unknown World--Signs of the Oldest Inhabitant--Through the
Canyon of Stillwater to the Jaws of the Colorado.

There was little energy in our camp the day after our arrival at the end
of the long struggle with Desolation and Gray canyons, and, also, it
being Sunday, we lounged around in a state of relaxation, joyful that we
did not have to roll up our blankets and stow them and everything else
in the rubber bags and pack the cabins to go on. The boats had been
unloaded and hauled on the beach, which was smooth sand, to dry out
preparatory to our caulking and repairing them with the pine gum
collected in Desolation. During the morning Prof. sent Jack and me down
the river a short distance to put up a signal, a small American flag, on
the lower end of an island, where it could easily be seen by any one
looking for us. All hands kept an ear open for signal shots, which we
hoped to hear soon, and have the Major once more in our company. After
dinner Prof. and Steward took another walk down the open valley about
five miles to reconnoitre, but though they came upon remains of a great
many Indian camps, all were old, and the valley appeared as silent and
deserted as it was desolate and barren. Along the river there were a few
groves of cottonwood, the only vegetation of any consequence to be seen.

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