A Battle Royal. One morning I watched a battle of the clouds over the Canyon. The wind had been blowing hard all night. About five o'clock I arose, attracted to the rim of the Canyon by a great black cloud that seemed banked up and resting on the north rim, covering, as with a blanket of blackest smoke, the long, visible stretch of the Kaibab Plateau. By and by the sun shot piercing beams of golden glory underneath the cloud, yet, strong and powerful though they were, they could not penetrate the cloud itself. There was the great wall of the Canyon; fierce, fiery, crimson-golden rays shooting in thin streaks above, banked over and pressed down upon by a towering mass of angry clouds. The wind blew strongly and fiercely from the east, bringing fleecy-edged clouds with it. Down in the Canyon the effects were wonderful. The walls reflected the anger of the clouds, and the fire of the sun. Here and there a wall, a tower, or a pinnacle would be lit up with a golden glory, but all around was smoky and forbidding. It even seemed as if a grayish black smoke was ascending from the depths beneath, through which the sun—invisible behind the cloud above—shot lancelike beams, which silvered the smoke and made it a little more gray. On the far western walls, rich purples and reds appeared. Then, suddenly, a soft and fleecy cloud appeared in the clear blue of the morning sky, floating towards me. It was awe-inspiring and yet startling, for it came like a giant battleship, resistlessly and silently shouldering its way along. Entranced I watched it, almost inclined to run, so as to give it free course, for it was low down and apparently very near, and moving with more than ordinary speed. Suddenly another cloud appeared, travelling after the first. As it came, the earlier one veered to the north, and began to cross the Canyon, losing some of its serenity and calmness of manner as it did so; for now, either as the result of conflict from within, or silent influence from without, it began to writhe and change its shape. Ugly angles were thrust out from its hitherto smooth sides, and sent waving and tossing aloft. While this was occurring, the second cloud veered, and when I gazed again, after withdrawing my attention for a few moments, the two were one, the subtle yet powerful forces in the air having wedded them. Together they slowly floated north and east. In the meantime, other clouds had been coming from the east. They sailed along serenely until they came within what appeared to be a few hundred yards of me, and then suddenly they veered to the north, crossed the Canyon, and joined the vast army of clouds that lay in solemn quietude, waiting for the decisive battle of the day. I went away from the rim for an hour or so, and when I returned not a trace of a cloud was to be seen.
A Beautiful Fog Effect. Another morning I saw the Grand Canyon as one hears an exquisite poem, a soft strain of music on violin, 'cello or oboe, or sung by the human voice. It was no longer terrifying and awe-inspiring; it affected one as beautiful flowers do, as the blessing of an old man or woman, as the half unconscious caress of a sleepy child whom you love. It was poetry personified; the spirit of beauty revealed; the inner glory of an artistic mystery unveiled.
There had been rain nearly all night, preceded by considerable wind. The clouds had massed together across the Canyon on the Kaibab. Winds had seemed to blow from every direction, but mainly from the southeast, and there were a few "sunshiny showers" in the late afternoon. The rain began after the sun had gone down, and it descended easily but steadily nearly all night. At six o'clock in the morning, not a glimpse of the Canyon could be had. It was completely buried, wrapped, enveloped in clouds. About nine o'clock these began to move. The rain ceased, tiny patches of blue shone through the clouds overhead, though east, west, north, south they were still black and lowering. It was cold almost to chilliness after the warmth of the preceding days, so there was no haste, no hurry, in the dispersion of the cloud blankets that covered the rocky walls and plateaus below. Slowly they began to rise, then to stretch out and become attenuated. Tiny gusts of wind played with them, and tossed them hither and thither. Banks of smoky gray lay over certain portions, but there was no regularity, no evenness, either in the clouds themselves, or in their disposition. East and west thick masses hid all vision; immediately at our feet the clouds filled the lower canyons below the plateaus, with a glorious, fleecy, silvery white, that tempted one to walk upon it into the realms of fairyland and wonder. Fleeces of irregular shape, but a mile long and two miles wide, slowly lifted themselves from a horizontal position to a vertical one, thus converting themselves from blankets into curtains. Yet behind and through them,—as a coy beauty half reveals, half conceals, her charms,—so the walls and buttes, the pinnacles and buttresses, took on a new and delicate beauty, a subtleness of charm and refinement that only such a veiling could produce. Every moment the panorama changed. This was veiled completely, that entirely uncovered, while other features were dimly discernible, or so softened by the fleecy, attenuated clouds that they seemed the airy fabrics of a child's dream of oriental splendor. Now as filmy steam, then as densest vapor boiling up from a world-deep cauldron of unearthly beauty, the moisture moved, here catching rapidly ascending currents of air, there lazily floating with serenest ease. It was hard to tear oneself away, and the mind still lingers and will often again recur to it, as one of the many never to be forgotten experiences of this most wonderful place.
CHAPTER XXX.The Grand Canyon For Pleasure, Rest And Recuperation
Unchanging Value of the Canyon. Many people think of the Grand Canyon as a show place, which, once seen, does not need to be revisited. Never was there a greater mistake, for its resources are inexhaustible, even though one visit it annually for a lifetime. The business man invests in stocks and bonds. A panic may wipe out their values and ruin follow in a night-time. But a visit to the Grand Canyon is an investment that yields interest manifold and compounded, as long as the faculty of memory remains. Better still, there is no middleman in the deal. The ticker does not reel off the changing values. You yourself are the banker, and the joys of beholding and possessing are permanent.
Its Mental and Spiritual Influence. The first impressions, maybe, are productive of physical and mental excitement. But when the traveler comes into complete harmony with the Grand Canyon's sublime features, bodily rest and mental tranquillity are sure to follow. Of course, we get out of Nature what we bring to her mentally and spiritually, but of no other place can it be truly said that the play of external forces has so sure a charm, so direct an influence. A man big mentally cannot be satisfied (when away from his work) with a place inferior to that with which he is habitually acquainted. Thus many a man, wise and thoughtful in all the other relations of his life, will go to some inferior place for his holiday, and return home dissatisfied. He has chosen unwisely. He has associated with that which is beneath him. Man's scenic environment and its influence over him are as much a matter of scientific knowledge, as the influence of his heredity or his food. A wise man, therefore, puts himself, at vacation time, in relationship with that scenic environment which will best minister to his welfare. Nature is God's provision for supplying man with his needed rest and recuperation.
Its Restful and Strengthening Qualities. Some prefer the forests, others the mountains, others the sea, others the plains, others the solitudes of the desert. Among them all in power to recuperate man's exhausted energies, the Grand Canyon stands supreme. "I come here again and again, because nowhere else do I find such rest and strength," said one of the leading men of California to me, in the rendezvous of El Tovar, only a short time ago. My own life and experience is a proof of this statement. For nearly twenty years I have been visiting the Canyon annually, and for many years there were few conveniences, such as railway and hotels. Now these are provided. One may leave his office in San Francisco, Los Angeles, Chicago or Kansas City, and in a Pullman car ride direct to the Canyon, where a few steps will lead him into one of the most perfectly equipped, yet homelike hotels in America. And there, without effort or fatigue, he comes face to face with this rest-giving, strength-producing Canyon. As soon as a man or woman learns this, you can scarcely get him, or her, to wait the coming of the regular holiday period. The appeal of the Canyon is as strong as the "call of the wild," and that man or woman needing quiet is wisest who yields to the call, and yields often, going to the Canyon in perfect faith that it has within itself recuperative powers which it is ready to give in full measure to those who are in need.
Ways in Which to Recuperate. To those who recuperate best by contact with Nature out-of-doors, the suggestions contained in the chapters devoted to the various outing trips will be useful. Those who wish to lounge and rest, surrounded without by all the sublimity of this unequalled scene, and within by all the comforts and luxuries of a modern hotel, will find that the Grand Canyon absolutely satisfies their most exacting demands. Easy and gentle drives, with perfect equipment; over forest roads, in the restfully stimulating atmosphere of Arizona, at an elevation of nearly seven thousand feet, soothe tired brain and nerves. More vigorous horseback exercises, taken through the park-like glades and reaches of the Coconino Forest, produce perfect digestion and the restfulness of dreamless sleep. The sun tans you. You breathe a pure, thin air, laden with scent of pine and cedar. Your lungs expand, your muscles harden. Soon you are "fit for a king."
The Mecca of the Traveling World. There are many canyons, but the Grand Canyon of Arizona is the Mecca of the traveling world; and El Tovar always has the housing of the choice spirits who have run the gamut of tourist delights in other lands. This home-like inn shelters men of letters, scientists, geologists, artists and business men. Any night, in the year, on the rim of this wonderful abyss, there will be found a miniature city, with its life and sparkle, its fellowships and social converse, its bustle and abandon, and, best of all, the simon-pure democracy inherent among traveled men and women.
In magical contrast with this human centre, is the near by solitude, for one may in a moment step from the companionship of men to the isolation of the desert or mountain—at will you may be one of the crowd or a hermit.