And such in truth it actually is. "Imagine a chasm that at times is less than a quarter of a mile wide and more than a mile deep, the bed of which is a tossing, roaring, madly impetuous flood.... What an imposing spectacle; what a sublime vision of mightiness!" (n. 34).
A great sight! say the Ancients.
A Wonder of the World! say the Moderns.
The roar of the river has never ceased since the ancient scribe, or his informant, passed that way. A modern visitor says: "The threatening roar of the water is loud and constant."
Again, "The roar of its waters was heard unceasingly from the hour we entered it until the time we landed here. No quiet in all that time." (n. 35).
One navigator tells of a "bore" in connection with the resounding stream. "In the stillness of the night, the roaring of the huge mass could be heard reverberating among the windings of the river.... This singular phenomenon of the 'bore,' as it is called, is met with but at few places in the world.... In the course of four or five hours the river falls about thirty feet" (n. 36.)
Another explorer pauses at one spot in his amphibious career to note that "high water mark" can be seen "fifty, sixty, or a hundred feet above its present stage;" and "when a storm bursts over the canyon, a side gulch is dangerous, for a sudden flood may come and the inpouring waters will raise the river, so as to hide the rocks before your eyes" (n. 37).
Another navigator, who never was without a life-belt,—which he found of vital use when righting his too often overturned ark,—tells with amazement of "the waves, torrents, and cataracts of this wildest of rivers."
A ceaseless basic roar is there,—deadened at times by floods of music, yet nevertheless eternally there.
The sea connected with the Great Canyon is elsewhere called a Puh hai (the latter term signifying "sea.")