"The scenery is wonderful; the canyon is deeper than above; the river is swift and has a decided drop. We proceed cautiously, and make slow progress. We camp for the day on the north side close to a little, dry gully, on a level sage and bunch-grass covered bottom back from the river's edge. An abruptly descending canyon banked with small cottonwood trees coming in from the opposite side contains a small stream. Put up our tent for the second time since leaving Green River, Wyoming. We are all weary, and glad to-morrow is Sunday—a day of rest."
"Sunday, September 17. E.C. and I follow a fresh deer track up a game trail and get—a rabbit. Climb out about 1300 feet above the river to the top of the narrow canyon. Here is a sloping plateau, dotted with bunch-grass and grease-wood, a fourth of a mile wide. Then rounded mountains rise beyond the plateau, some of the peaks reaching a height of 4000 feet above the river. The opposite side is much the same, but with a wider plateau. We had no idea before what a wonderful country this is. It is a picture to tempt an artist. High on the mountain tops is the dark blue-green of pines and firs, reds and yellows are mixed in the quaking aspen,—for the frost comes early enough to catch the sap in the leaves; little openings, or parks with no trees, are tinted a beautiful soft gray; 'brownstone fronts' are found in the canyon walls; and a very light green in the willow-leafed cottonwoods at the river's edge, and in all side canyons where there is a running stream. The river glistens in the sunlight, as it winds around the base of the wall on which we stand, and then disappears around a bend in the canyon. Turn where we will, we see no sign of an opening, nothing but the rounded tops of wooded mountains, red and green, far as the eye can reach, until they disappear in the hazy blue. Finally Emery's keen eyes, aided by the binoculars, discover a log cabin at the foot of a mountain, on the plateau opposite us about three miles away."
"We hurry back to camp and write some letters; then Jim and I cross the river and climb out over the rocky walls to the plateau above. In two hours we reach the cabin. It is new—not yet finished. A woman and four children are looking over a garden when we arrive. They are a little frightened at first, but soon recover. The woman gladly promises to take out our mail when they go to the nearest town, which happens to be Vernal, Utah, forty-five miles away. Three other families live near by, all recently moved in from Vernal. The woman tells us that Galloway hunts bear in these timbered mountains, and has killed some with a price on their heads—bear with a perverted taste for fresh beef."[3]
"Thanking the woman, we make our way back to the river. We see some dried-out elk horns along our trail; though it is doubtful if elk get this far south at present. A deer trail, leading down a ravine, makes our homeward journey much easier. It has turned quite cold this evening, after sunset. We finish our notes and prepare to roll into our beds a little earlier than usual."
CHAPTER IV
SUSPICIOUS HOSTS
We awoke bright and early the next morning, much refreshed by our day of rest and variety. With an early start we were soon pulling down the river, and noon found us several miles below the camp, having run eleven rapids with no particular difficulty. A reference in my notes reads: "Last one has a thousand rocks, and we could not miss them all. My rowing is improving, and we both got through fairly well." In the afternoon they continued to come—an endless succession of small rapids, with here and there a larger one. The canyon was similar to that at our camp above, dark red walls with occasional pines on the ledges,—a most charming combination of colour. At 2.30 P.M. we reached Ashley Falls, a rapid we had been expecting to see for some time. It was a place of singular beauty. A dozen immense rocks had fallen from the cliff on the left, almost completely blocking the channel—or so it seemed from one point of view. But there was a crooked channel, not more than twelve wide in places, through which the water shot like a stream from a nozzle.
We wanted a motion picture of our dash through the chute. But the location for the camera was hard to secure, for a sheer bank of rock or low wall prevented us from climbing out on the right side. We overcame this by landing on a little bank at the base of the wall and by dropping a boat down with a line to the head of the rapid where a break occurred in the wall. Jimmy was left with the camera, the boat was pulled back, and we prepared to run the rapid.
We first had to pass between two square rocks rising eight feet above the water so close together that we could not use the oars; then, when past these, pull ten feet to the right in order to clear the large rock at the end of the main dam, or barrier, not more than twenty feet below. To pull down bow first and try to make the turn, would mean to smash broadside against this rock. It could only be done by dropping stern first, and pulling to the right under the protection of the first rocks; though it was doubtful if even this could be accomplished, the current was so swift. The Defiance was ready first, the Edith was to follow as closely as safety allowed.
Almost before I knew it I was in the narrow channel, so close to the right rock that I had to ship that oar, and pull altogether on the left one. As soon as I was through I made a few quick strokes, but the current was too strong for me; and a corner of the stern struck a bang when I was almost clear. She paused as a wave rolled over the decks, then rose quickly; a side current caught the boat, whirling it around, and the bow struck. I was still pulling with all my might, but everything happened so quickly,—with the boat whirling first this way, then that,—that my efforts were almost useless. But after that second strike I did get in a few strokes, and pulled into the quiet pool below the line of boulders.