Chapter 5
V. B. B. B. The Grand Canyon of the Colorado From Major J. W. Powell's Report of the Exploration of the Canyons of the Colorado, 1869 For two years previous to the exploration, I had been making some geological studies among the heads of the canyons leading to the Colorado, and a desire to explore the Grand Canyon itself grew upon me. Early in the spring of 1869, a small party was organized for this purpose.
Boats were built in Chicago and transported by rail to the point where the Union Pacific Railroad crosses the Green River. With these, we were to descend the green into the Colorado and the Colorado down to the foot of the Grand Canyon. From the record of May 24, 1869, we quote the following, The good people of Green River City turn out to see a start, a party of ten men. We raise our little flag, push the boats from shore, and the swift current carries us down.
Our boats are four in number. Three are built of oak, staunch and firm. We take with us rations deemed sufficient to last ten months, abundant supplies of clothing, also a large quantity of ammunition, and two or three dozen traps. On the 26th, they go into camp at the foot of the Yuen Ta Mountains at the head of Flaming Gorge Canyon, the first to be explored. We quote again, the river is running to the south, the mountains have an easterly and westerly trend
directly athwart its course, yet it glides on in a quiet way as if it thought a mountain range, no formidable obstruction to its course. It enters the range by a flaring, brilliant red gorge that may be seen from the north a score of miles away. You must not think of a mountain range as a line of peaks standing on a plain, but as a broad platform many miles wide from which mountains have been carved by the waters. You must conceive, too, that this plateau is cut by gulches and
canyons in many directions, and that beautiful valleys are scattered about at different altitudes. The first series of canyons we are about to explore constitute a river channel through such a range of mountains. The canyon is cut nearly halfway through the range, then turns to the east and is cut along the central line, or axis, gradually crossing it to the south. Keeping this direction for more than 50 miles, it then turns abruptly to a southwest course and goes diagonally through the southern slope of the range. may thirtieth this morning we are ready to enter the mysterious canyon and start with some anxiety the old mountaineers tell us it cannot be run the indians say water heap catch em but all are eager for the trial and off we go
entering flaming gorge we quickly run through it on a swift current and emerge into a little park half a mile below the river wheels sharply to the left and we turn into another canyon cut into the mountain we enter the narrow passage on either side the walls rapidly increase in altitude on the left are overhanging ledges and cliffs five hundred a thousand fifteen hundred feet high On the right, the rocks are broken and ragged, and the water fills the channel from cliff to cliff. Now the river turns abruptly around a point to the right, and the waters plunge swiftly down among great rocks. And here we have our first experience with Canyon Rapids.
I stand up on the deck of my boat to seek a way among the wave-beaten rocks. All untried as we are with such waters, the moments are filled with intense anxiety. Soon our boats reach the swift current, a stroke or two, now on this side, now on that, and we thread the narrow passage with exhilarating velocity, mounting the high waves whose foaming crests dash over us and plunging into the troughs until we reach the quiet water below,
and then comes a feeling of great relief. Our first rapid run, another mile, and we come into the valley again. Let me explain this canyon. Where the river turns to the left above, it takes a course directly into the mountain, penetrating to its very heart, then wheels back upon itself and runs into the valley from which it started, only half a mile below the point at which it entered. So the canyon is in the form of an elongated U with the apex in the center of the
mountain. We name it Horseshoe Canyon. Last spring, I had a conversation with an old Indian named Pariats, who told me about one of his tribe attempting to run this canyon. The rocks, he said, holding his hands above his head, his arms vertical, looking between them to the heavens. The rocks, heap, heap high. The water go hoo-woo, hoo-woo. Water pony, boat, heap buck. Water Ketchum. No see em Injun anymore. No see em Squaw anymore. No see em Papoose anymore.
June 7th. On a rock we find a pool of clear cold water caught from yesterday evening's shower. After a good drink we walk to the brink of the canyon and look down to the water below. I can do this now, but it has taken several years of mountain climbing to cool my nerves so that I can sit with my feet over the edge and calmly look down a precipice two thousand feet. And yet I cannot look on and see another do the same. I must either bid him come away or turn my head.
This evening, as I write, the sun is going down, and the shadows are settling in the canyon. The vermilion gleams and roseate hues, blending with the green and gray tints, are slowly changing to somber brown above, and black shadows are creeping over them below. And now it is a dark portal to a region of gloom, the gateway through which we are to enter on our voyage of exploration tomorrow. The 9th of June brought disaster to a boat containing
three of the men, who were carried down the rapids, but all were rescued. They passed the mouths of the Uinta and the White Rivers, with constantly changing scenes, making a tortuous journey through many dangerous rapids, much of the time between high perpendicular walls. On the 15th, they pass around a great bend, five miles in length, and come back to a point one quarter of a mile from where they started. Then they sweep around another great bend to the left,
making a circuit of nine miles and come back to one-third of a mile from where the bend started. The figure eight properly describes the 14 miles journey. July 17th they arrive at the junction of the Grand and Green Rivers having traversed about 804 miles. On the morning of July 19th the Major and a companion start to climb the left wall below the junction of the Grand and Green rivers. They reach the summit of the rocks. The view is thus described. And what a world of
grandeur is spread before us. Below us is the canyon, through which the Colorado runs. We can trace its course for miles, as at points we catch glimpses of the river. From the northwest comes the green, in a narrow, winding gorge. From the northeast comes the grand, through a canyon that seems bottomless from where we stand. Away to the west are lines of cliff and ledges of rock, not such ledges as you may have seen, where the quarry man splits his blocks, but ledges from
which the gods might quarry mountains that rolled on the plain below would stand a lofty range, and not such cliffs as you may have seen, where the swallow builds his nest, but cliffs where the soaring eagle is lost to view ere he reaches the summit. Between us and the distant cliffs are the strangely carved and pinnacled rocks of the tomb-pin Wu-Nir-To-Weep. On the summit of the opposite wall of the canyon are rock forms that we do not understand. Away to the east a group of
eruptive mountains are seen, the Sierra La Salle. Their slopes are covered with pines, and deep gulches are flanked with great crags, and snowfields are seen near the summits. So the mountains are in uniform, green, gray, and silver. Wherever we look there is but a wilderness of rocks, deep gorges, where the rivers are lost below cliffs and towers and pinnacles, and ten thousand strangely carved forms in every direction, and beyond them mountains blending with the clouds.
Traveling as fast as I can run, I soon reach the foot of the stream, for the rain did not reach the lower end of the canyon, and the water is running down a bed of dry sand. And although it comes in waves several feet high and 15 or 20 feet in width, the sand soak it up, and it is lost.
But wave follows wave and rolls along and is swallowed up, and still the floods come on from above. I find that I can travel faster than the stream, so I hasten to camp and tell the men there is a river coming down the canyon. The exploring party next passes through Narrow Canyon, 9 1⁄2 miles long, Glen Canyon, 149 miles in length, and Marble Canyon, 65 1⁄2 miles long. The depth of the last name is 3,500 feet at the lower end.
They emerge from Marble Canyon August 10th and find themselves separated from the Grand Canyon of the Colorado, the great unknown by the narrow valley of the Little Colorado. The Grand Canyon is now entered and safely passed, a distance of 217 and one-half miles, terminating with the Grand Wash. We are compelled to terminate this article abruptly for lack of space. It is proper to say that this journey has scarcely ever been equaled for daring and hardihood.
Each time they descended a rapids, they were liable to come to a fall too great to shoot over, with walls so steep they could not be climbed, and rapids so swift as to prevent return. The Grand Canyon, as one of the wonders of the world, is visited every summer by hundreds of tourists. End of Section 5
