Flaming Gorge.
The Beginning of the Colorado River Canyons, N. E. Utah.
Photograph by E. O. Beaman, 1871.
The next day our boat was held back for some special work while the others proceeded toward a high spur of the Uintas, directly in front of us. We followed with a fierce and blinding gale sweeping the river and filling our eyes with sharp sand. Nevertheless we could see high up before us some bright red rocks marking the first canyon of the wonderful series that separates this river from the common world. From these bright rocks glowing in the sunlight like a flame above the grey-green of the ridge, the Major had bestowed on this place the name of Flaming Gorge. As we passed down towards the mountain it seemed that the river surely must end there, but suddenly just below the mouth of Henry's Fork it doubled to the left and we found ourselves between two low cliffs, then in a moment we dashed to the right into the beautiful canyon, with the cliffs whose summit we had seen, rising about 1300 feet on the right, and a steep slope on the left at the base of which was a small bottom covered with tall cottonwood trees, whose green shone resplendent against the red rocks. The other boats were swinging at their lines and the smoke of Andy's fire whirling on the wind was a cheerful sight to the ever-hungry inner-man. Constant exercise in the open air produces a constant appetite. As long as we could protect our cargoes, and make our connections with our supplies as planned, we would surely not have to go hungry, but we had to consider that there was room for some variation or degree of success. There was at least one comforting feature about the river work and that was we never suffered for drinking water. It was only on side trips, away from the river that we met this difficulty, so common in the Rocky Mountain Region and all the South-west.
When the barometrical observations were worked out we found we had now descended 262 feet from our starting-point. That was four and a quarter feet for each mile of the sixty-two we had put behind. We always counted the miles put behind, for we knew they could not be retraced, but it was ever the miles and the rapids ahead that we kept most in our minds. We were now at the beginning of the real battle with the "Sunken River." Henceforth, high and forbidding cliffs with few breaks, would imprison the stream on both sides.
A loss of our provisions would mean a journey on foot, after climbing out of the canyon, to Green River (Wyoming) to Salt Lake City or to the Uinta Indian Agency. There was a trail from Brown's Hole (now Brown's Park) back to the railway, but the difficulty would be to reach it if we should be wrecked in Red Canyon. We did not give these matters great concern at the time, but I emphasise them now to indicate some of the difficulties of the situation and the importance of preventing the wreck of even one boat.
FOOTNOTES:
[3] Two were of the original Henry pattern.
[4] For further description of these boats the reader is referred to The Romance of the Colorado River, page 236, by F. S. Dellenbaugh.