The cliffs everywhere were now becoming more broken, and there was an entrance somewhere from the back country, or it may have been up the canyon, for we discovered remains of tipis and camps with metates or grinding stones, the first evidences of human beings we had seen since the "Moki" wall. This and the breaking of the cliffs caused us to believe that we were nearing the end of the canyon. Prof. with Jones and Steward went down-stream on foot for a distance to see what was coming next and found a stretch of very bad water. On the return a rattlesnake struck at Steward but luckily failed to hit him. Steward killed it. We concluded to stop for the night where we were with the day's record—four rapids run, three let-downs, and 4-5/8 miles in distance. This camp was not satisfactory and we got out of it early the next morning. While Beaman was making some views across the river we lowered the other two boats through one rapid and then ran them through a second in three-quarters of a mile to a better camping place, from which we went back and helped the third boat, the Cañonita, do the same. Prof. wanted to climb out, but the morning being half gone he planned to start after dinner and meanwhile he read Emerson aloud to us till Andy shouted his "Go fur it boys!" Accompanied by Steward and Clem, in the afternoon he climbed up 1200 or 1500 feet to a point where he could see down the river two or three miles. They counted seven rapids, and confirmed the belief that the walls were breaking. The surrounding country was made up of huge ridges that ran in toward the river from five miles back.
Our Camp 44 was in a little valley about a quarter of a mile wide, the bottom covered with cedars and greasewood. The scenery was still on a magnificent scale but barren and desolate. The next morning, August 21st, we were under way at 7.30 and plunged almost immediately into the rapids which had been sighted from the cliffs above. In a little over four miles we let down six times. A seventh rapid we ran and then stopped for noon on the left, every man, as usual, soaking wet. A little rain fell but not enough to consider. After dinner four more rapids were put behind; we ran all but one at which we made a let-down. Our record for this day was eleven rapids in a trifle less than seven miles, and we were camped at the head of another rapid which was to form our eye-opener in the morning. The walls receded from the river three-fourths of a mile and now, though still very high, had more the appearance of isolated cliffs.
We had not a single unpleasant incident till Beaman on this day ran one rapid contrary to Prof.'s orders. He was sharply reprimanded, and for the time being his tendency to insubordination and recklessness was checked. He probably did not mean to be either, but his confidence in his ability to steer through anything led him astray. In the evening by the camp-fire light Prof. read aloud from Miles Standish. Although a heavy wind blew sand all over us, no one seemed to complain.
The next morning, August 22d, the first thing we did was to run the rapid beside our camp, a beautiful chute, swift, long, and free from rocks. Immediately below this was one half a mile long in the form of a crescent, the river making a sharp bend with a bad current, but we ran it. This was, in fact, a part of the other rapid, or it might be so classed, as was frequently the case where the descent was nearly continuous from one rapid to another. The river was very narrow at this place, not more than seventy-five feet wide. We had not gone far before we reached a rapid where it was prudent to lower the boats, and not more than a few hundred yards below this there was another of a similar character but necessitating harder work. Then we were brought face to face with one more that could not be run with safety on the present stage of water, though we ran a part of it and made a let-down past the remainder. When this was finally accomplished with everything in good order, we found ourselves in front of still another that refused to grant us clear passage, and we worked the boats down with lines as in the previous rapids without removing the cargoes. The method was the usual one for the let-downs, three or four men on the line and a couple on board the boat to manœuvre and protect her. Having by this time advanced three and one-eighth miles from last night's camp we stopped for dinner. On taking up the oars again the first rapid was a fine, clear descent with extremely large waves, through which all three boats dashed with exhilarating speed, leaping part of their length out of the water as their velocity carried them zipping over the crests. Our boat happened to strike near the finish on a submerged rock to the right of the main channel and near shore and there she hung for some moments. The first boat had landed below and some of the men quickly came up to where I could throw them our line, and this pulled us off without any damage worth mentioning. A little below this we ran another successfully and had not gone far before we were astonished at the sight of a horse grazing unconcernedly on some low bluffs on the right. Prof. had discovered this horse with his field glass while we stopped above to examine one of the rapids. He thought it might indicate the presence of the Major, or of Indians, but he did not mention the matter to any of us. When we were at a good point, and just as all hands had discovered the animal, he ordered a sharp landing on the same side. We ran in quickly. Prof. went up the bank and gave several shouts while we held ourselves ready for action. There was no response. He then went to the horse and found it very lame which, coupled with the absence of any indication of visitors within recent months, caused us to conclude that the horse had been abandoned by Indians who had been encamped here a good while before. We left the place and running another rapid, a little one, we came to a fine spot for a camp on the right at the beginning of a heavy rapid, and there we stayed for the night.
There was now a marked change in the geology, and fossiliferous beds, which for a long time had been absent, appeared. The canyon walls also broke away considerably. The next morning it was decided that we should remain at this camp till after dinner for observation work. I went out with Steward to help him gather fossils, and Beaman took some views, while the others occupied themselves with various duties. The afternoon began by letting the boats by line past the rapid at camp which Beaman called Sharp Mountain Falls, from a pointed peak overhead. There was a drop of about fifteen feet in thirty rods. Beaman wanted to photograph us in the midst of our work, and got ready for it, but a rain-storm came on and we had to wait till it cleared for him to get the picture. We then went ahead dashing through a pretty rapid with a swift current, and next had a long stretch of rapid, though not difficult river, making in all 2-3/4 miles, and camping at five o'clock on the left. The only trouble we had was that in choosing one of four channels our boat got where she was inevitably drawn into the top of a sunken dead tree lodged in the rocks and my starboard row lock was broken off. On shore Steward killed another rattlesnake, of which there seemed to be a good many along the river.
We were now actually out of the Canyon of Desolation and in the beginning of what the Major at first called Coal Canyon, then Lignite, and finally Gray, the name it bears to-day, because of the colour of the walls. The division between the two canyons was the break down where we had seen the horse. Casting up we found that the Canyon of Desolation is ninety-seven miles long. Early the next morning, August 24th, we pulled away from Camp 47 soon running two small rapids of no consequence, and in three miles came to a descent of some ten feet in a very short space, where we made a let-down. Three fair rapids were next run easily when we halted to examine a hard-looking place where we let down again. An encounter with three more, two of them each a quarter of a mile long, took us till noon, though we ran them and we came to a stop for dinner. Now the walls had narrowed, the canyon being about half a mile wide at the top—sometimes not more than a quarter. The colour was buff, and there were seams of coal and lignite in places. On one or the other side the cliffs were nearly vertical for about three hundred feet then breaking back to jagged heights reaching about two thousand feet. After dinner having run two more rapids without trouble we arrived at a very difficult locality where the first cliffs, six hundred feet high, came down vertically on both sides quite close to the water. We saw how we could navigate it, but at flood time it would be a most serious proposition, as there would be no footing on either side, unless, perhaps on the huge masses of fallen rock. At the present stage we were able to let the boats down by lines. Then we had two easy rapids, followed by another not more difficult but less safe. A little farther on we ran two more which completed the record for the day, and we were glad to camp with a total run of 12-3/8 miles, and many rapids with three let-downs. A feature of the cliffs this day was numerous alcoves and grottoes worn into the sandstone some of them like great caverns with extremely narrow canyons leading into them.
In the morning Prof. with Jones, Cap., and Steward climbed out. The country was elevated above the river about two thousand feet, a wild labyrinth of ragged gulches, gullies, and sharp peaks devoid of vegetation except a few piñons on some slopes, the whole presenting a picture of complete desolation. At a quarter past twelve we were again gliding down on a stiff current. We ran seven easy rapids and let-down by lines twice, before arriving about three o'clock at the mouth of a stream-bed sixty feet wide, which Prof. said was Little White, or Price River. The mouth was so devoid of water that we camped on the smooth sand, it being the only ground free from brush. A sudden rise or cloud-burst would have made it an active place for us but we decided to take the risk for one night. Prof. and Jones tried to get out by following up this river bed but they were not successful. Game was abundant and they thought there might be an Indian trail but they saw none. In the evening Steward gave us a mouth-organ recital and Jack sang a lot of his songs in fine style. The air was soft and tranquil, and knowing we had now conquered the Canyon of Desolation without a serious mishap we all felt well satisfied.
In the morning, August 25th, breakfast was disposed of early, the boats were put in trim and away we went again on a good current running many rapids and making one let-down in a distance of eight miles. I counted fourteen rapids, Steward ten or eleven, Prof. only eight, showing that it is not always easy to separate the rapids where they come so close together. In one the river was no more than thirty feet wide with big waves that made the boats jump and ship water. We reached a bend and saw the end of the canyon only a mile or two away, but we had to make the let-down mentioned before we got there. Our camp, Number 50, was made about noon, just inside the mouth of the canyon on the left, opposite a high, beautiful pinnacle we called Cathedral Butte afterwards changing the name to Gunnison. Here we would wait till the time appointed for the Major to join us according to the plan. Gray Canyon was now also behind us with its thirty-six miles and numerous rapids. Adding to it the ninety-seven miles of Desolation made the total canyon from Wonsits Valley 133 miles with a descent of about 550 feet distributed through a hundred rapids, some small, some heavy. The entire fall from our starting point was now some two thousand feet. Prof. and Jones went down the valley two miles with the hope of seeing signs of the Major but not a human being was to be found anywhere.
