Canyon of Desolation.
Walls 2000 feet.
Photograph by E.O. BEAMAN, U.S. Colo. Riv. Exp.
A Halt for Observations.
Second Powell Expedition.
Photograph by E.O. BEAMAN, U.S. Colo. Riv. Exp.
After a good deal of hard rowing we finally reached the mouth of the Uinta. Thompson went up to the Agency, about forty miles away, and found that Powell had gone out to Salt Lake. When the latter came back to the Agency it was to direct Thompson to go on with our party, while Powell went out again to see about the ration-supply at the mouth of the Dirty Devil. The men sent there had been unable to find the place, or, indeed, to get anywhere near it. Powell was to meet us again at the foot of Gray Canyon, about one hundred and fifty miles farther down. When our supplies had been brought from the Agency and all was ready, we proceeded on our way, passing the elopers near the end of the valley, where they were very happy in a good camp with a fresh deer and plenty of vermilion, which they used liberally their faces. Below this the river was full of beaver, and had Pattie or some of the early trappers been there, they could have reaped a rich harvest. The current was slow, and Thompson read Emerson aloud as we drifted. Gradually the hills began to grow rocky, and then distinct low cliffs appeared, till finally we discovered ourselves fairly within the walls of another canyon, which from the barren character of its cliffs is called the Canyon of Desolation. It is ninety-seven miles long, and immediately at its foot is Gray Canyon, thirty-six miles long. Then comes Gunnison Valley, and it was there that Powell was to return to us. The first indication of descending waters was a slight swiftness, the river having narrowed up to its canyon-character. At one place it doubled back on itself, forming in the bend a splendid amphitheatre which was called after Sumner of the former party. This beautiful wall, about one thousand feet high, was carved and sculptured by the forces of erosion in a most wonderful manner. It is shown on page 205. After a few miles between such walls we began to expect rapids, and hardly had the expectation been formed when it was gratified. An increasing roar came to our ears, and as we rounded a bend three were discovered before us within the space of half a mile. The water had been continually falling till now it was so low that these rapids exhibited a startling number of rocks amidst the foam. We believed we could run them, and we did. The first was cleared easily. In the second the Nell struck a submerged rock, but glanced over it without damage, while our boat landed squarely on the top, for it could not be seen from above, and, after a momentary quiver, hung there as the wave which lifted us upon it receded. The water roared and boiled furiously about us, but did not quite come into the boat. It was impossible to dip the oars from the stationary boat on account of the force of the current. At last Hillers perceived that the sticking point was almost under the extremity of the keel. Getting out cautiously over the stern he succeeded in touching the top of the rock, and, thus lightened, the Dean shot forward, though not before Hillers, who had not let go of the stern rowlock, was able to leap on board. The Cañonita fared still worse. Following us too close, she tried to pass, but struck another rock, crushing in her side, though floating down nevertheless. An hour and a half spent on her put her in good order again, and away we went, running a third and a fourth with no trouble. The walls were now about two thousand feet high and we felt quite at home. Through some of the upper narrow promontories of sandstone there were large holes, or arches, some of them probably a hundred or more feet in diameter. They were similar to the Hole in the Wall, shown in the cut on page 41, only on a much larger scale. The next day, before stopping for dinner, we ran nine rapids with no accident. The river was wider than in the upper canyons, and while the low state of the water made harder work and pounded the boats more, I believe that on the whole it was an advantage. The current was less fierce and consequently the boats were always more controllable. Yet when the water falls below a certain point the danger of striking rocks is so much increased that a rapid which, at a little higher stage would be easy to run must be avoided entirely by a portage or a let-down. The waves at low water are also smaller and hence less likely to upset a boat.
Uinte Ute Tipi and a Summer Shelter and Outlook, Showing the Old-time Notched Log for a Ladder.
Photograph by J.K. HILLERS, U.S. Geol. Survey.
