The myriads of horizontal lines which mark the different strata of rocks have the appearance of a maze of telegraph wires strung through the canon.
A ride leisurely on horseback along the rim trail from Thurber's old camp to Bissell's Point, seven miles up the canon, and back is easily made in a day. It presents a panorama of magnificent views all along the rim, but Bissell's is conceded to be the best view point on the canon. From this point about thirty miles of river can be seen as it winds in and out deep down among the rocks. The Colorado river is a large stream, but as seen here a mile below and several miles out, it dwindles into insignificance and appears no larger than a meadow brook. The river looks placid in the distance, but is a raging, turbulent torrent in which an ordinary boat cannot live and the roar of its wild waters can be distinctly heard as of the rushing of a distant train of cars.
A second day spent in riding down the canon to Grand View Point and back is equally delightful. Looking across a bend in the canon from Grand View Point to Bissell's Point the distance seems to be scarcely more than a stone's throw, yet it is fully half the distance of the circuitous route by the rim trail.
There are three trails leading into the canon and down to the river, the Bright Angel, Grand View and Hance trails, which are at intervals of eight and twelve miles apart. They are equally interesting and comparatively safe if the trip is made on the back of a trained pony or burro with a competent guide.
The Hance trail is a loop and is twenty miles long. It is seven miles down to the river, six miles up the stream and seven miles back to the rim. It was built single handed by Captain John Hance, who has lived many years in the canon. The trail is free to pedestrians, but yields the captain a snug income from horse hire and his own services as guide for tourists who go over the trail.
Captain Hance is an entertaining raconteur and he spins many interesting yarns for the amusement, if not the edification, of his guests. The serious manner in which he relates his stories makes it sometimes hard to tell whether he is in jest or earnest. His acknowledged skill in mountaineering, and felicity in romancing has won for him more than a local reputation and the distinguished title of Grand Canon Guide and Prevaricator.
He relates how "once upon a time" he pursued a band of mountain sheep on the rim of the canon. Just as he was about to secure his quarry the sheep suddenly turned a short corner and disappeared behind some rocks. Before he realized his danger he found himself on the brink of a yawning abyss and under such a momentum that he could not turn aside or stop his horse. Together they went over the cliff in an awful leap. He expected to meet instant death on the rocks below and braced himself for the shock. As the fall was greater than usual, being over a mile deep in a perpendicular line, it required several seconds for the descending bodies to traverse the intervening space, which gave him a few moments to think and plan some way of escape. At the critical moment a happy inspiration seized and saved him. On the instant that his horse struck the rock and was dashed to pieces, the captain sprang nimbly from the saddle to his feet unharmed. To prove the truth of his statement he never misses an opportunity to point out to the tourist the spot where his horse fell, and shows the white bones of his defunct steed bleaching in the sun.
At Moran's Point there is a narrow cleft in the rocks which he calls the Fat Woman's Misery. It received its name several years ago from a circumstance that happened while he was conducting a party of tourists along the rim trail. To obtain a better view the party essayed to squeeze through the opening, in which attempt all succeeded except one fat women who stuck fast. After vainly trying to extricate her from her uncomfortable position he finally told her that there was but one of two things to do, either remain where she was and starve to death or take one chance in a thousand of being blown out alive by dynamite. After thinking a moment she decided to try the "one chance in a thousand" experiment.
A charge of dynamite was procured and the fuse lighted. After the explosion he returned to the spot and found the result satisfactory. The blast had released the woman, who was alive and sitting upon a rock. He approached her cheerfully and said:
"Madam, how do you feel?" She looked up shocked, but evidently very much relieved, and replied "Why, sir, I feel first rate, but the jolt gave me a little toothache."