The Romance of the Colorado River / The Story of its Discovery in 1840, with an Account of the Later Explorations, and with Special Reference to the Voyages of Powell through the Line of the Great Canyons

by Frederick Samuel Dellenbaugh

F.S. Dellenbaugh, 1872.
The exploring costume consisted of a shirt as above, a pair of cotton overalls, heavy hobnailed shoes, and a felt hat.
Tintype by J.K. HILLERS.

Granite Falls, Grand Canyon.
Photograph by J.K. HILLERS, U.S. Colo. Riv. Exp.

Running the Sockdologer, Grand Canyon.
Fall 80 feet in ⅓ mile.
Studio painting by F.S. DELLENBAUGH.

As we went on, the canyon narrowed again, becoming wilder and grander than ever, and on the 28th, late in the day, we came to the first bad fall in this division, where a portage was necessary, and we made a camp. A short distance below this camp the granite ran up. To any one who has been in this chasm with a boat, the term “the granite runs up” has a deep significance. It means that the First Granite Gorge is beginning, and this First Granite Gorge, in the Kaibab division of the canyon, less than fifty miles in length as the stream runs, contains the wildest, swiftest, steepest piece of river on this continent except a portion in Cataract Canyon. The declivity is tremendous. Between the Little Colorado and the Kanab the total fall is 890 feet, and the bulk of this drop occurs in the granite. In one stretch of ten miles the descent is 210 feet. All through this granite the character of the river is different from anything above. The falls are short and violent, while the stretches in between are smooth and not always swift. But the moment a break occurs the turbulence and commotion are instantly very great. The summer is the wet season here, and to add to our troubles we were treated to frequent rains. The next day toward noon, as we were sailing along between the black walls, on a rather sluggish current, a deep-toned roar was borne up to our ears. Nothing could be seen of the cause of it, but a complete disappearance of the river from our sight warned us to make a landing as soon as possible. Some broken rocks protruding a few feet above the water at the base of the right-hand wall afforded the desired opportunity, and running in we stepped out and mounted them. The cause of the roaring was immediately apparent. For a third of a mile the river was a solid mass of huge waves and foam and plunges, and on each side the granite came down so precipitously that a footing was impossible. It took no second glance to tell us that, at least with this stage of water, there was but one course, and that was to run the place. There is nothing like having the inner man fortified for exertion, therefore with a few bits of driftwood a fire was built, by means of which Andy prepared dinner. When this had been disposed of operations were begun. The Cañonita was to remain here till our boat was well through. In case we smashed up they would have a better chance, as they might profit by our course, and if we went through safely, we would be prepared to pick them up should disaster overtake them. At last we were ready. The crew of the Cañonita placed themselves where they could carefully watch our fortunes, and we pulled up the river very close to the right-hand wall in slack current, for about a quarter of a mile, when we turned the bow out and struck for the middle, heading there straight for the descent. I pulled the bow oars, and my back was toward the terrific roar which, like the voice of some awful monster, grew louder as we approached. It was difficult to refrain from turning round to see what it looked like now, but as everything depended on the promptness with which Hillers and I handled our oars in obedience to Powell’s orders, I waited for the plunge, every instant ready to execute a command. We kept in the middle of the stream, and as we neared the brink our speed began to accelerate. Then of a sudden there was a dropping away of all support, a reeling sensation, and we flew down the declivity with the speed of a locomotive. The gorge was chaos. The boat rolled and plunged. The wild waters rolled over us, filling the open spaces to the gunwale. With the camp kettles that were left out of the cabins for that purpose, Hillers and I bailed as hard as we could, letting the boat go with the current, but it seemed to do little good, for every moment the waves broke over the craft from end to end, and our efforts might as well have been made with a teaspoon, though in many other rapids the kettles had proved effective. Here and there, as we shot down, I could look back under a canopy of foam and see the head of a great black rock. Fortunately we safely cleared everything, and in probably less than a minute we were at the bottom, lying to in an eddy, bailing fast and watching for the other boat. No sign of any living thing could be discovered as we peered up the rapid, which from below had the appearance of an almost vertical fall. Presently at the top of the foam a white speck moved, clearly seen against the dark background. It was the Cañonita on the edge of the fall. I can see her yet, pausing for an instant, apparently, and then disappearing completely amidst the plunging waters. A minute later she reappeared at the bottom and ran alongside of us in good order. Owing to the large amount of water there seemed to be not much danger of striking a rock, and our boats did not capsize easily. After the plunge was begun we did not try to guide the boats—it would have been useless. The fall here was about forty feet in a third of a mile. Some of the men called it the Sockdologer. The picture of it from above, on page 219, does not give a correct impression, as the plate was too slow, but it was the best that could be done at the time. The canyon continued very narrow at the bottom, the river averaging about one hundred and fifty feet. Late in the afternoon we arrived at a much worse place than the Sockdologer, though the fall was not so great. Landing on the left on some broken rocks, we saw no chance of getting around the rapid there, so we crossed to the right and landed on another little pile of rocks in a small alcove. The walls rose vertically, or nearly so, from the water’s edge. We saw the only thing to do was to lower one boat, with two men on board, by her line for some distance (a hundred feet of best Manila rope were attached to each boat by a strong iron ring; in the stern was also an iron ring), and from the stern let the other cautiously down to the very head of the fall, where there was a second pile of rocks which received the boat between them and held her fast. The upper boat was then pulled back to where we had remained, the line from the second being tied to her stern. Entering her we clung to projections of the wall with our hands, to prevent the current from swinging the boat out, while the men who were in the lower boat carefully hauled on the stern line till at last we also reached the rocks. With a great deal of labour we then worked both boats from these rocks to some others nearer the right wall, from which they were manoeuvred across to a pile about two hundred feet away against the foot of the cliff, This ended our struggle for the day, as night was upon us. The black rocks towering so far above made the gorge darken early, and rain began to fall. A little damp driftwood was collected with which a fire was started in order that Andy might prepare supper. When this was almost ready peal after peal of thunder suddenly crashed among the cliffs, which seemed to collapse and fall down upon us, and a flood from the sky descended. The fire died without a sputter, everything not in rubber was soaked, and all we could do was to stand in the darkness, cold and hungry, and wait for the deluge to cease. At last we were able to start the fire once more, and had a half-cooked supper before hunting the soft sides of the rocks for beds. The next day it required hard work till one o’clock to get the boats down two hundred yards farther. At one place to keep the bow in, I was in one of the boats, being lowered along the wall, while the other men were a hundred feet above my head, holding the end of two hundred feet of rope, as they clambered along a ledge. The situation all around was rather precarious, but we had no accident. This brought us to a small alcove where there was a limited talus. The boats were so much bruised that we were obliged to halt on these rocks for repairs, instead of starting out again into the current as we intended. This work took so long that darkness approached before all was done. At the same time we discovered that the river was rising rapidly, at the rate of three or four feet an hour, submerging the rocks. Fortunately, about twenty feet up the cliff was a narrow shelf, and to this the rations were passed to guard them from the rising waters. Then there was danger of the boats pounding to pieces, as the space they were on was rapidly decreasing, and waves from the rapid swept into the cove, so it was decided to raise them up on the side of the wall as far as necessary. By means of the ropes we succeeded in swinging them at a height of about six feet and there made them fast for the night. There was not room on the ledge for a camp, but by going out around a projection a talus was available, though there was a dearth of wood and level spots. I managed to find enough half-dead mesquite bushes for a fire, and Andy did his best on the supper. One hundred feet above the river I found driftwood. To add to the discomfort of the occasion the rain began again, and the river continued its rise. Through the night a watch was kept on the boats, so that they could be lifted farther if necessary. The morning of August 31st was wet and gloomy in the black gorge. Some of the rocks were still above water, against the wall. When the boats were lowered they pounded about at a frightful rate on the surges that swept into the alcove. Then it was found that a hole in the Dean had been forgotten or overlooked, and she was leaking badly in the middle compartment. But there was no chance to stop longer here for repairs, as the river seemed to be still rising. A bag of flour was jammed against the hole, the boat was loaded, the hatches were battened down, we grasped our oars, and while the Cañonita crew held our stern to give us a fair start we pulled straight out as hard as we could to clear a huge rock just below, upon which the current was fiercely dashing. Our boat was so wet and full of water that the gunwales were barely above the surface as we rolled heavily along through large waves. I felt very uncertain as to whether or not she would remain afloat till we could make a landing, but luckily she did, and we halted at the first opportunity. This was at a talus on the right where the entire cargo was spread out on the rocks to dry in the sun which now cheered us by its warm rays, and the leak in the boat was stopped. The Cañonita soon came down safely. She was of a slightly better build than the Dean, and, with one less man in her, was able to ride more buoyantly. It was after four o’clock before we were ready to go on, and we started once more with a fairly tight boat, dry inside. Then we had a wild ride. The descent was steady. For eight miles there was a continuous rapid, accentuated by eight heavy falls. The boats sped along at high speed, but the way being clear we did not often stop, passing two places where the former expedition made portages. We had a glimpse of a creek coming in on the right which looked interesting, but it was left behind in a moment as the boats shot along between the dark granite walls. At a quarter past five we ran up to a sand-bank where a lone willow tree was growing. Here we made a camp. The canyon spread a little and the wide sand-bank appeared to our eyes like a prairie. Just below our camp there came in a muddy stream, which on the other trip was clear and was then named Bright Angel to offset the application of Dirty Devil to the river at the foot of Narrow Canyon.