Tributary of Frémont River.
Photograph by J. K. Hillers.

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D. Preliminary map of a portion of the northern part of the unknown country indicated by the blank space on Map A at page 95, showing the course of part of Glen Canyon, the mouth of the Frémont (Dirty Devil) River, the Henry (Unknown) Mountains, and the trail of the first known party of white men to cross this area. The Escalante River, which was mistaken for the Dirty Devil, enters the Colorado just above the first letter "o" of Colorado at the bottom of the map. The Dirty Devil enters from the north at the upper right-hand side.

When morning came we engineered a way for the animals down to the shelf where the other pocket was, twenty or thirty feet below, by pulling rocks away in places and piling them up in others. The shelf was perhaps fifty or sixty feet wide, with a sheer plunge of one thousand feet at the outer end into the first canyon we had followed. The animals could not get to the water, but we dipped it out for them in the camp kettles. The way up from the shelf was so very steep that at one point two of us had to put our shoulders to the haunches of some of the horses to "boost" them, while other men pulled on a strong halter from above, and in this way we soon had them all watered and ready for pack and saddle. Keeping along the divide we had comparatively easy going, with the Unknown Mountains ever looming nearer, till their blue mystery vanished and we could discern ordinary rocks and trees composing their slopes. About noon we arrived at the edge of an intervening valley, with the wind blowing so fierce a gale that we could barely see. Crossing this depression we reached a small creek at the foot of the second mountain from the north (now Mt. Pennell), and climbed its slope seventeen hundred feet to a beautiful spring, where we camped, with plenty of fine grass for the famished horses. We had at last traversed the unknown to the unknown, and felt well satisfied with our success. If it had ever been done before by white men there was no knowledge of it.

The temperature was so low that water froze in the camp kettles, and next morning, June 18th, the thermometer stood at 28° F., with the water of the little brook running from the spring at 37° F. After breakfast Prof., Jack, and Dodds climbed the mountain on which we were camped, running their aneroid out, while with Johnson I went down the slope north, crossed the pass, and climbed the first mountain (now Mt. Ellen, after Mrs. Thompson). A severe snow-storm set in, and when we had finally attained a point where our aneroid indicated 11,200 feet above sea-level, we were obliged to turn back because of the lateness of the hour and having no coats, no food, or water. When we reached camp on the other mountain night had come. Andy had been trying to cook some beans, but the high altitude prevented the water from getting hot enough and the operation was incomplete.[30] I foolishly ate some of the beans, being very hungry, with the result that I was sick for the first time on the expedition, suffering a horrible stomach-ache. Though not disabled I was extremely uncomfortable. In the morning we started to go around north through the pass to the east side of the mountain, and I ran in the trail as usual, mounting and dismounting many times, till I was extremely glad after eight miles when we came to the head of a little creek and stopped to enable Prof. to climb the third peak (Mt. Hillers) for observations. While he was gone I was content to lie still in the shade of a bush, and finally lost my pain in sleep. Prof. got back so late that we camped where we were, much to my satisfaction. The view from our camp was extensive and magnificent, the whole Dirty Devil region lying open, like a book, below us.

We were striking for the creek up which Prof. and Cap. had come the year before from the river, for we knew that from its mouth we could easily get to where our Cañonita was cached. The next day, June 20th, we continued down Trachyte Creek, as Prof. called it, till four o'clock, passing many old camps and grazing grounds, when we halted for Prof. to climb to a height. The outlook there showed him that this was not the stream whose canyon below we wanted to descend to the river, so the following morning he took Dodds and reconnoitred, the latter after a while returning with orders for us to come on eastward to another canyon. We left Trachyte Creek and reached Prof. at two o'clock. He had prospected a trail, or rather a way, to descend into the canyon over the smooth bare sandstone across which we wound back and forth for a mile, constantly going down into the strange, weird depths till at last we reached the creek bed, where a short distance below we went into camp in a beautiful green cottonwood grove, with enormous pockets of good water close by. By seven o'clock in the morning of the 22d we were going on down the deep, narrow canyon, and arrived at the Colorado at half-past ten. The river was at least fifteen feet higher than last year, and rushed by with a majestic power that was impressive. Our first unusual incident was when Prof.'s horse, in trying to drink from a soft bank, dropped down into the swift current and gave us half an hour's difficult work to get him out. When we had eaten dinner we all went up to the mouth of the Dirty Devil, where we had stored the Cañonita, and rejoiced to find her lying just as we left her, except that the water had risen to that level and washed away one of the oars. We caulked the boat temporarily, launched her once more on the sweeping tide, and in two minutes were at our camp, where we hauled her out for the repairs necessary to make her sound for the run to the Paria.

Sunday was the next day, June 23d, and while the others rested I plotted in the trail by which we had crossed to this place so that Prof. could take it out with him, as he decided that Jack, Johnson, Fennemore, and I were to take the boat down, while he, Andy, and Dodds would go back overland to meet Jones and George Adair at the foot of Potato Valley. At five o'clock they left us, going up the same canyon we had come down and which we called Lost Creek Canyon, now Crescent Creek. The next day we recaulked and painted the boat, and I put the name Cañonita in red letters on the stern and a red star on each side of the bow. By Wednesday the 26th she was all ready and we put her in the water and ran down four miles to the large Shinumo house. Jack rowed the stern oars, Johnson the bow, I steered, while Fennemore sat on the middle deck. The high water completely obliterated the aggravating shoals which had bothered us the year before, and we had no work at all except to steer or to land, the current carrying us along at a good pace. We stopped occasionally for pictures and notes and got about everything that Jack and Fennemore wanted in the line of photographs. The Fourth of July we celebrated by firing fourteen rounds, and I made a lemon cake and a peach-pie for dinner. On Sunday the 8th we passed the mouth of the stream that had been mistaken for the Dirty Devil, and which Prof. had named Escalante River. It was narrow and shallow and would not be taken at its mouth for so important a tributary. The next day we passed the San Juan which was running a very large stream, and camped at the Music Temple, where I cut Jack's name and mine under those of the Howlands and Dunn. The rapid below was dashing but easy and we ran it without stopping to examine. On Friday the 12th we came to El Vado and dug up a cache we had made there the year before. Our rations for some time were nothing but bread and coffee, and we were glad to see the Echo Peaks and then run in at the mouth of the Paria on Saturday, July 13th, with the expectation of finding men and supplies. The Dean was lying high and dry on the bank and we wondered who had taken her from her hiding-place. Firing our signal shots and receiving no answer, Jack and I went up the Paria, crossing it on a log, and saw a cabin and a farm on the west side. This we knew must be Lee's. He was ploughing in a field, and when he first sighted us he seemed a little startled, doubtless thinking we might be officers to arrest him. One of his wives, Rachel, went into the cabin not far off and peered out at us. She was a fine shot as I afterwards learned. Lee received us pleasantly and invited us to take our meals at his house till our party came. As we had nothing but bread and coffee and not much of these we accepted. The fresh vegetables out of the garden, which his other wife, Mrs. Lee XVIII., served nicely cooked, seemed the most delicious food that could be prepared. Mrs. Lee XVIII. was a stout, comely young woman of about twenty-five, with two small children, and seemed to be entirely happy in the situation. The other wife, whose number I did not learn, left before dark for a house they had at Jacob's Pool and I never saw her again.