The upper continuation of the Colorado River of the West is Green River which heads in the Wind River Mountains at Frémont Peak. From this range southward to the Uinta Mountains, on the southern boundary of Wyoming, the river flows through an open country celebrated in the early days of Western exploration and fur trading as "Green River Valley," and at that period the meeting ground and "rendezvous" of the various companies and organisations, and of free trappers. By the year 1840 the vast region west of the Missouri had been completely investigated by the trappers and fur-hunters in the pursuit of trade, with the exception of the Green-and-Colorado River from the foot of Green River Valley to the termination of the now famous Grand Canyon of Arizona. The reason for this exception was that at the southern extremity of Green River Valley the solid obstacle of the Uinta Range was thrown in an easterly and westerly trend directly across the course of the river, which, finding no alternative, had carved its way, in the course of a long geological epoch, through the foundations of the mountains in a series of gorges with extremely precipitous sides; continuous parallel cliffs between whose forbidding precipices dashed the torrent towards the sea. Having thus entrapped itself, the turbulent stream, by the configuration of the succeeding region, was forced to continue its assault on the rocks, to reach the Gulf, and ground its fierce progress through canyon after canyon, with scarcely an intermission of open country, for a full thousand miles from the beginning of its entombment, the entrance of Flaming Gorge, at the foot of the historical Green River Valley. Some few attempts had been made to fathom the mystery of this long series of chasms, but with such small success that the exploration of the river was given up as too difficult and too dangerous. Ashley had gone through Red Canyon in 1825 and in one of the succeeding winters of that period a party had passed through Lodore on the ice. These trips proved that the canyons were not the haunt of beaver, that the navigation of them was vastly difficult, and that no man could tell what might befall in those gorges further down, that were deeper, longer, and still more remote from any touch with the outer world. Indeed it was even reported that there were places where the whole river disappeared underground. The Indians, as a rule, kept away from the canyons, for there was little to attract them. One bold Ute who attempted to shorten his trail by means of the river, shortened it to the Happy Hunting Grounds immediately, and there was nothing in his fate to inspire emulation.
The years then wore on and the Colorado remained unknown through its canyon division. Ives had come up to near the mouth of the Virgin from the Gulf of California in 1858, and the portion above Flaming Gorge, from the foot of Green River Valley, was fairly well known, with the Union Pacific Railway finally bridging it in Wyoming. One James White was picked up (1867) at a point below the mouth of the Virgin in an exhausted state, and it was assumed that he had made a large part of the terrible voyage on a raft, but this was not the case, and the Colorado River Canyons still waited for a conqueror. He came in 1869 in the person of John Wesley Powell, a late Major[1] in the Civil War, whose scientific studies had led him to the then territory of Colorado where his mind became fired with the intention of exploring the canyons. The idea was carried out, and the river was descended from the Union Pacific Railway crossing to the mouth of the Virgin, and two of the men went on to the sea. Thus the great feat was accomplished—one of the greatest feats of exploration ever executed on this continent.[2]
The Toll
Unidentified skeleton found April 1906 by C. C. Spaulding in the Grand Canyon 300 feet above the river, some miles below Bright Angel trail. There were daily papers of the early spring of 1900 in the pocket of the clothes.
Photograph 1906 by Kolb Bros.
Circumstances had rendered the data collected both insufficient and incomplete. A second expedition was projected to supply deficiencies and to extend the work; an expedition so well equipped and planned that time could be taken for the purely scientific side of the venture. This expedition was the first one under the government, the former expedition having been a more or less private enterprise. Congress made appropriations and the party were to start in 1870. This was found to be inexpedient for several reasons, among which was the necessity of exploring a route by which rations could be brought in to them at the mouth of what we called Dirty Devil River—a euphonious title applied by the men of the first expedition. This stream entered the Colorado at the foot of what is now known as Narrow Canyon, a little below the 38th parallel,—the Frémont River of the present geographies. Arrangements for supplies to be brought in to the second expedition at this place were made by the Major during a special visit to southern Utah for the purpose.
By great good fortune I became a member of the second expedition. Scores of men were turned away, disappointed. The party was a small one, and it was full. We were to begin our voyage through the chain of great canyons, at the same point where the first expedition started, the point where the recently completed Union Pacific Railway crossed Green River in Wyoming, and we arrived there from the East early on the morning of April 29, 1871. We were all ravenous after the long night on the train and breakfast was the first consideration, but when this had re-established our energy we went to look for the flat car with our boats which had been sent ahead from Chicago. The car was soon found on a siding and with the help of some railroad employés we pushed it along to the eastern end of the bridge over Green River and there, on the down side, put the boats into the waters against whose onslaughts they were to be our salvation. It was lucky perhaps that we did not pause to ponder on the importance of these little craft; on how much depended on their staunchness and stability; and on our possible success in preventing their destruction. The river was high from melting snows and the current was swift though ordinarily it is not a large river at this point. This season had been selected for the start because of the high water, which would tide us over the rocks till tributary streams should swell the normal volume; for our boats were to be well loaded, there being no chance to get supplies after leaving. We had some trouble in making a landing where we wanted to, in a little cove on the east side about half a mile down, which had been selected as a good place for our preparatory operations. Here the three boats were hauled out to receive the final touches. They were named Emma Dean, Nellie Powell, and Cañonita. A space was cleared in the thick willows for our general camp over which Andy was to be master of ceremonies, at least so far as the banqueting division was concerned, and here he became initiated into the chemistry necessary to transform raw materials into comparatively edible food. But it was not so hard a task, for our supplies were flour, beans, bacon, dried apples, and dried peaches, tea and coffee, with, of course, plenty of sugar. Canned goods at that time were not common, and besides, would have been too heavy. Bread must be baked three times a day in the Dutch oven, a sort of skillet of cast iron, about three inches deep, ten or twelve inches in diameter, with short legs, and a cast-iron cover with a turned-up rim that would hold hot coals. We had no other bread than was made in this oven, or in a frying-pan, with saleratus and cream of tartar to raise it. It was Andy's first experience as a cook, though he had been a soldier in the Civil War, as had almost every member of the party except the youngest three, Clem, Frank, and myself, I being the youngest of all.
For sleeping quarters we were disposed in two vacant wooden shanties about two hundred yards apart and a somewhat greater distance from the cook-camp. These shanties were mansions left over, like a group of roofless adobe ruins near by, from the opulent days of a year or two back when this place had been the terminus of the line during building operations. Little remained of its whilom grandeur; a section house, a railway station, a number of canvas-roofed domiciles, Field's "Outfitting Store," and the aforesaid shanties in which we secured refuge, being about all there was of the place. The region round about suggested the strangeness of the wild country below, through the midst of which led our trail. Arid and gravelly hills met the eye on all sides, accentuated by huge buttes and cliffs of brilliant colours, which in their turn were intensified by a clear sky of deep azure. In the midst of our operations, we found time to note the passing of the single express train each way daily. These trains seemed very friendly and the passengers gazed wonderingly from the windows at us and waved handkerchiefs. They perceived what we were about by the sign which I painted on cloth and fastened across the front of our house, which was near the track: "Powell's Colorado River Exploring Expedition." Above this was flying our general flag, the Stars and Stripes.