Not more than an eighth of a mile from the junction of the two streams the canyon commences. At first, the stream is hemmed in by two rocky walls a few feet in height, but as one ascends, the walls become higher and higher, and the sound of the roaring stream is lost in the black depth of a gloomy chasm. To one leaning over the edge of the beetling precipice, this wonderful gorge appears like a bottomless rift or rent in the mountain side, and so deep is it and so closely do the opposite, irregular walls press one towards another, that it is impossible to see the waters below from which a faint, sullen murmur comes up.
Most wonderful of all, the canyon at length comes to a sudden termination, and here the whole mighty stream plunges headlong, as it were, into the very bowels of the earth. The boiling stream, turned snow-white by a short preliminary leap, makes a final plunge downwards and is lost to sight in a dark cavernous hole, perhaps 300 feet deep, whence proceeds a most awful roar, like that of ponderous machinery in motion. The ground, which is here a solid quartzite formation, fairly trembles at the terrible concussion and force of the falling waters, while cold, mist-laden airs ascend in whirling gusts from the awful depths. Niagara is majestically and supremely grand, but this lesser fall, where the water plunges into a black bottomless hole, is by far the more terrifying.
Lake on Vermilion Pass.
On the fourth of August we reached the summit of the Vermilion Pass. On the summit we passed several small lakes in the forest. The water was of a most beautiful color, far more vivid than any I have hitherto seen. In the shallow places where the bottom could be easily seen, the water assumed a bright, clear, green color, and in the deeper places, according to the light and angle of view, the color varied to darker hues of all possible shades and tints. The rich colors of sky and water in the Rocky Mountains is one of the most beautiful features of the scenery, but likewise one that can only be appreciated by actual experience.
Our horses were plagued by great numbers of bull-dog flies as we entered the Bow valley. It seems as though these insects were more numerous in the valley of the Bow, and its various tributaries, than in those parts of the mountains drained by other rivers.
At four o’clock we reached the Bow River, and forded it where the width was about one hundred yards, and the depth four feet. My camera and several plates were flooded in this passage, which was, however, effected in safety.
A march of one hour more, along the tote-road, brought us to the station of Castle Mountain, once a thriving village in the railroad-construction days, but now presenting a forlorn and deserted appearance. The section men flagged the east-bound train for us, and we arrived in Banff that evening, after having been in camp for twenty-nine days.
