The Grand Canyon of Arizona: How to See It

by George Wharton James

Their Remarkable Nerve. In telling of this stage of the journey, Russell seemed to lose sight entirely of the remarkable nerve both men showed in starting down through what is admittedly the wildest stretch of continuous bad water in the whole river. And that, too, without the third companion, who at the outset had been considered absolutely indispensable to the success of the party. Instead, he emphasized rather his belief that Loper had elected to face no more dangers, and had voluntarily remained behind at Hite.

First Seven Days Passed in Safety. In seven days they had passed the length of the roaring stream, in its descent through perpendicular walls of marble, reaching up to an average height of two thousand five hundred feet, and had come through the worst rapids to that point, without damage to either boat. At one stage there are fifty-seven falls of from sixteen to twenty feet in a distance of nineteen miles, according to Stanton's records, in which was kept an accurate count of all the rapids in the river.

Enter the Grand Canyon. They entered the Grand Canyon December 20. For the first fifteen miles below the entrance of the Little Colorado, and the beginning of the big Canyon, they found comparatively quiet water. But from this point, on to the beginning of the first granite gorge, their way was threatened with the worst falls they had met thus far. The good luck which had attended them from the start, however, still prevailed, and they managed to shoot their way safely down over the almost continuous cataracts for five long days. Christmas found them only fifteen miles above Bright Angel. In describing the manner of their celebration, Russell remarked casually that they certainly "hung their stockings"—to dry. From beginning to end of their journey, the adventurers were obliged to depend entirely for fuel on such driftwood as they could find lodged in eddies and on the rocky shores. More than one night they spent in clothes soaked through with the icy water of the Colorado, with no fire to warm them. Their Christmas camp, however, was on a narrow strip of sand, with a greater supply of driftwood at hand than they had found at any point along the river.

Dangerous Rapids. Beginning immediately below this camping place, and continuing for ten miles, the river dashes madly through that stretch of foaming water called by Stanton the "Sockdologer." To make matters worse, Russell found it impossible to follow his usual custom of "picking a trail" through the rapids. Ordinarily the elder man climbed along the precipitous sides of the Canyon beside each cataract, leaving Monett above the rough water in charge of the two boats. From his vantage point, Russell could pick out the most dangerous places, and chart a course through the rapids accordingly. But throughout these ten miles of granite, the walls are sheer and smooth for the first fifteen hundred feet of their rise. Russell could find no foothold, and the men for the first time faced the necessity of "shooting" unknown waters.

Russell's Method of Shooting Rapids. As always, Russell led the way in his boat, swinging it into the boiling current stern first—his own method of taking each cataract making the frail craft respond to his will, when possible, by a forward pull on one or the other of his oars. For half an hour the men were hurled down the seemingly neverending length of tossing waters. After the first minute, the cockpit in which each man sat was filled to the gunwales with icy water, in which the oarsmen worked, covered to the armpits. Hundreds of times great waves totally submerged them, the little boats each time staggering out from under the weight of water, only to plunge into more.

Russell Gets Safely Through. With less than a quarter of a mile still to be covered, before the less turbulent water below was reached, and just as Russell was sweeping around the last great curve beyond which he could see the placid water, he heard his companion in the rear cry out in alarm. Before he could turn to see the cause of the cry, he was driven round the curve. Mooring his boat to the bank as quickly as possible, Russell half climbed, half waded along the shore of the river, and made his way back up the side of the rapids.

Monett in Danger. Monett, his boat wedged tight between two jagged rocks, a foot below the surface of the sweeping water, was hanging desperately to the gunwale of the little craft, his body straightened out horizontal by the rush of the water about him. The boat was completely wrecked. But Russell, when he threw a rope to his companion, was astounded to see the boy work his way slowly nearer the boat, and begin to tie its contents securely with the line intended for his own salvation.

Rescued with Difficulty. Against the roar of the rapids, it was useless for Russell to call to his companion to let the provisions go and save himself. Four times the lad let Russell drag sides of bacon and sacks of beans through the thirty feet of roaring water between him and the shore, before he finally caught the rope and was dragged to safety. He had been in the water for more than twenty minutes, and was nearly exhausted when Russell lifted him to his feet.

Loss of Boat. The loss of the boat seemed at first to mark the end of their attempt to equal the record of their predecessors. But Monett insisted that they try his plan of straddling the stern of the remaining boat. "If we strike too rough water, I can always swing overboard," he urged. "And we've needed a drag that wouldn't get fouled on the rocks all along."

Reach Bright Angel. It was noon, January 6, when the trail party from the hotel on the Canyon's rim at Bright Angel, forty men and women, eating their luncheon at the river shore, saw two men swing out of the rapids two hundred yards up the river, and row leisurely toward them. In the thirty years that tourists have visited the bottom of the Canyon at this point, it is safe to assert that not one ever saw a sight like this.