Jones. Hillers. F. S. Dellenbaugh
Canyon of Lodore.
Photograph by E. O. Beaman, 1871.
It was next to impossible to converse, but every one being very tired it was not long after supper before we took to the blankets and not a man was kept awake by the noise. It seemed only a few moments before it was time to go at it again. All hands were up early and the other two boats were taken laboriously down in the same manner as the Dean had been engineered, but though we toiled steadily it was one o'clock by the time we succeeded in placing them alongside that boat. Anticipating this, Andy's utensils were taken down on the Nell, and while we were working with the Cañonita, our good chef prepared the dinner and we stopped long enough to fortify ourselves with it. Having to build a trail in some places in order to carry the goods across ridges and boulders, it was not alone the work on lowering the boats which delayed us. While we were absorbed in these operations the camp-fire of the morning in some way spread unperceived into the thick sage-brush and cedars which covered the point, and we vacated the place none too soon, for the flames were leaping high, and by the time we had finished our dinner at the foot of the rapid, the point we had so recently left was a horrible furnace. The fire was jumping and playing amidst dense smoke which rolled a mighty column, a thousand feet it seemed to me above the top of the canyon; that is over 3000 feet into the tranquil air.
At two o'clock all three boats were again charging down on a stiff current with rather bad conditions, though we ran two sharp rapids without much trouble. In one the Nell got on a smooth rock and came near capsizing. The current at the spot happened to be not so swift and she escaped with no damage. Then we were brought up by another rapid, a very bad one. Evening was drawing on and every man was feeling somewhat used up by the severe exertions of the day. Camp was therefore ordered at the head of this rapid in the midst of scenery that has probably as great beauty, picturesqueness, and grandeur as any to be found in the whole West. I hardly know how to describe it. All day long the surroundings had been supremely beautiful, majestic, but at this camp everything was on a superlative scale and words seem colourless and futile. The precipices on both sides, about 2200 feet high, conveyed the impression of being almost vertical. Our camp was several hundred yards from the rapid and we could talk with some comfort. After supper I wandered alone down beside the furiously plunging waters and came upon a brood of young magpies airing themselves on the sand. The roar of the fall prevented their hearing and I walked among them, picked one up and took it to camp to show their comicality, when I let it go back to the rendezvous. I was censured especially by the Major, for cruelty to animals.
The next day was Sunday and it came with a radiance that further enhanced the remarkable grandeur around us. Near by was a side canyon of the most picturesque type, down which a clear little brook danced from ledge to ledge and from pool to pool, twenty to thirty feet at a time. We named it Leaping Brook. The rocks were mossy, and fir trees, pines, cedars, and cottonwoods added the charm of foliage to the brilliant colours of the rocks and the sheen of falling water, here and there lost in the most profound shadows. Beaman made a number of views while the rest of the men climbed for various purposes. Steward, Clem, and I by a circuitous route arrived at a point high up on Leaping Brook where the scene was beyond description. To save trouble on the return we descended the brook as it was easy to slide down places that could not be climbed. In this manner we succeeded in getting to the last descent near camp, to discover that it was higher than we thought and almost vertical with rough rocks at the bottom. As we could not go back and had no desire to break a leg, we were in trouble. Then we spied Jack in the camp a short distance away and called to him to put a tree up for us. Good-natured Jack, always ready to help, assumed a gruff tone and pretended he would never help us, but we knew better, and presently he threw up a long dead pine which we could reach by a short slide, and thus got to the river level. It was now noon, and as soon as dinner was over the boats were lowered by lines past the rapid beside camp and once below this we shot on our way with a fine current, soon arriving at two moderate rapids close together, which we ran. This brought us to a third with an ugly look, but on examination Prof. and the Major decided to run it. Getting a good entrance all the boats went through without the slightest mishap. A mile below this place we landed at the mouth of a pretty little stream entering through a picturesque and narrow canyon on the left. We called it Alcove Brook.
Beaman took some negatives here. This was not the easy matter that the dry-plate afterwards made it, for the dark tent had to be set up, the glass plate flowed with collodion, then placed in the silver bath, and exposed wet in the camera, to be immediately developed and washed and placed in a special box for carriage.
This would have been an ideal place for a hunter. Numerous fresh tracks of grizzlies were noticed all around, but we did not have the good luck to see any of the animals themselves. Happy grounds these canyons were at that time for the bears, and they may still be enjoying the seclusion the depths afford. The spot had an additional interest for us because it was here that on the first trip the brush caught fire soon after the party had landed, and they were forced to take to the boats so unceremoniously that they lost part of their mess-kit and some clothing.