Prof. now took observations for time and latitude in order to fix with accuracy the geographical location of the camp in Flaming Gorge, and to check the estimates of the topographers as they sighted the various stretches of the river. It has been found that estimates of this kind are quite accurate and that the variation from exactness is generally the same in[5] the same individual. Hence one man may underestimate and another may overestimate, but each will always make the same error, and this error can be readily corrected by frequent observations to determine latitude and longitude. A series of barometrical observations was kept going whether we were on the move or not. That is, a mercurial barometer was read three times a day, regularly, at seven, at one, and at nine. We had aneroid barometers for work away from the river and these were constantly compared with and adjusted to the mercurials. The tubes of mercury sometimes got broken, and then a new one had to be boiled to replace it. I believe the boiling of tubes has since that time been abandoned, as there is not enough air in the tube to interfere with the action of the mercury, but at that time it was deemed necessary for accuracy, and it gave Prof. endless trouble. The wind was always blowing, and no tent we could contrive from blankets, and waggon sheets (we had no regular tents), sufficed to keep the flame of the alcohol lamp from flickering. Nevertheless, Prof. whose patience and dexterity were unlimited, always succeeded. The mercurial barometers were of the kind with a buckskin pocket at the bottom of the cistern with a screw for adjusting the column of mercury to a fixed point.

Most of the men climbed out in various directions and for various objects. Prof. reached a high altitude whence he obtained a broad view of the country, a grand sight with the quiet river below and snow-capped mountains around, with rolling smoke and leaping flame, for there were great mountain fires not far off. The Major and Steward went geologising. Steward was rewarded by discovering a number of fossils, among them the bones of an immense animal of the world's early day, with a femur ten inches in diameter, and ribs two inches thick and six inches wide. These bones were much exposed and could have been dug out, but we had no means of transporting them.

Flaming Gorge is an easy place to get in and out of, even with a horse, and doubtless in the old beaver-hunting days it was a favourite resort of trappers. I am inclined to think that the double turn of the swirling river where it enters Flaming Gorge is the place known at that time as the Green River Suck. Our camp under the cottonwoods was delightful. We took advantage of the halt to write up notes, clean guns, mend clothes, do our washing, and all the other little things incident to a breathing spell on a voyage of this kind. It was Sunday too, and when possible we stopped on that account, though, of course, progress could not be deferred for that reason alone.

Monday morning we left the pleasant camp in the grove and went on with the tide. The river was rough from a heavy gale, but otherwise offered no obstacle. At a sudden bend we cut to the left deeper into the mountain till on both sides we were enclosed by almost perpendicular precipices of carboniferous formation, limestone, about 1600 feet high. The canyon was surprisingly beautiful and romantic. The river seemed to change its mood here, and began to flow with an impetus it had exhibited nowhere above. It swept on with a directness and a concentration of purpose that had about it something ominous. And just here, at the foot of the right hand wall which was perpendicular for 800 feet, with the left more sloping, and clothed with cedar shrubs, we beheld our first real rapid, gleaming like a jewel from its setting in the sunlight which fell into the gorge, and it had as majestic a setting as could be desired. For myself I can say that the place appeared the acme of the romantic and picturesque. The rapid was small and swift, a mere chute, and perhaps hardly worthy of mention had it not been the point where the character of the river current changes making it distinguished because of being the first of hundreds to come below. The river above had held a continual descent accelerating here and retarding there with an average current of two and a half miles an hour, but here began the quick drops for which the canyons are now famous. There was one place where Prof. noted a small rapid but it was not like this one, and I did not count it at all.

photo, canyon

The gorge we ran into so suddenly was short and by dinner-time we had emerged into a wider, more broken place, though we were still bound in by tremendous heights. We saw that we had described a complete horseshoe and this fact determined the canyon's name—number two of the series. When we landed for dinner, an examination was made of the locality from that base before we dropped down a little distance to the mouth of a fine clear creek coming in from the right. This was a fascinating place. The great slopes were clothed with verdure and trees, and the creek ran through luxuriant vegetation. A halt of a day was made for observation purposes. The air was full of kingfishers darting about and we immediately called the creek by their name.

I was sent with Steward on a geological expedition out over the right or western cliffs. We consumed two hours in getting out, having to climb up about 1000 feet over a difficult way. After a good deal of going up and down across rough ridges, we finally worked our way around to the head of Flaming Gorge. Here we reckoned up and found that eight steep ridges intervened between us and camp by the way we had come, and we concluded that we could get back easier through Flaming Gorge and thence by climbing over the tongue or base of the horseshoe which was lower than the end. Steward grew decidedly weary and I felt my legs getting heavy too. Rain had fallen at intervals all day and we were wet as well as tired and famished. We struck an old trail and followed it as long as it went our way. Then it became too dark to see which way it went and we climbed on as best we could. It was about half-past eight when we reached our camp to find a splendid fire burning and a good supper waiting for us.

The new canyon which closed in the next day had walls about 1500 feet in height, that being the general height of the spur of the Uintas through which we were travelling. The changes from one canyon to another were only changes in the character of the bounding mountain walls, for there was no break into open country. The name of Kingfisher we gave to the new gorge for the same reason we had called the creek at our camp by that name, and so numerous were these birds at one rounded promontory that there was no escape from calling it Beehive Point, the resemblance to a gigantic hive being perfect. Kingfisher Canyon like its two predecessors was short, all three making a distance by the river of only about ten miles. Flaming Gorge is the gateway, Horseshoe the vestibule, and Kingfisher the ante-chamber to the whole grand series. At the foot of Kingfisher the rocks fell back a little and steep slopes took their place. Where the rocks closed in again, we halted on the threshold of the next gorge, in a fine grove of cottonwoods. A significant roar came to us out of the gate to Red Canyon, rolling up on the air with a steady, unvarying monotony that had a sinister meaning. It was plain that we were nearing something that was no paltry gem like the rapid we had so much admired in Horseshoe Canyon.

The remainder of that day and all the next, which was June 1st, we stayed at this camp completing records, investigating the surroundings, and preparing for rough work ahead. On Friday morning the cabins were packed carefully, the life preservers were inflated, and we pulled out into the current. The cliffs shot up around us and rough water began at once. The descent was almost continuous for a considerable distance, but we divided it into three rapids in our notes, before we reached a sharp turn to the right, and then one just as sharp to the left, with vertical walls on both sides and a roaring torrent, broken by rocks, whirling between. Our boat shot down with fierce rapidity and would have gone through without a mishap had not the current dashed us so close to the right-hand wall that Jack's starboard row-lock was ripped off by a projection of the cliff as we were hurled along its rugged base. At the same moment we saw the Nell upsetting against some rocks on the left. Then we swept out of view and I was obliged to pull with all my strength, Jack's one oar being useless. We succeeded in gaining a little cove on the left, and jumped out as soon as shallow enough, the Major immediately climbing the cliffs to a high point where he could look down on the unfortunate second boat. Prof., it seems, had misunderstood the Major's signal and had done just what he did not think he ought to do. He thought it meant to land on the left and he had tried to reach a small strip of beach, but finding this was not possible he turned the boat again into the current to retrieve his former position, but this was not successful and the Nell was thrown on some rocks projecting from the left wall, in the midst of wild waters, striking hard enough to crush some upper planks of the port side. She immediately rolled over, and Frank slid under. Prof. clutched him and pulled him back while the men all sprang for the rocks and saved themselves and the boat from being washed away in this demoralised condition. With marvellous celerity Cap. took a turn with a rope around a small tree which he managed to reach, while Steward jumped to a position where he could prevent the boat from pounding. In a minute she was righted and they got her to the little beach where they had tried to land. Here they pulled her out and, partially unloading, repaired her temporarily as well as they could. This done they towed up to a point of vantage and made a fresh start and cleared the rapid with no further incident. Meanwhile the CaÑonita had come in to where we were lying, and both boats were held ready to rescue the men of the other. After about three-quarters of an hour the unfortunate came down, her crew being rather elated over the experience and the distinction of having the first capsize.

Setting out on the current again we passed two beautiful creeks entering from the right, and they were immediately named respectively, Compass and Kettle creeks, to commemorate the loss of these articles in the capsize. At the mouth of Kettle Creek, about a mile and a half below the capsize rapid, we stopped for dinner. Then running several small drops, we arrived at a long descent that compelled careful action. We always landed, where possible, to make an examination and learn the trend of the main current. Our not being able to do this above was the cause of the Nell's trouble. We now saw that we had here landed on the wrong side and would have to make a somewhat hazardous crossing to the opposite, or right bank. Our boat tried it first. In spite of vigorous pulling we were carried faster down towards the rapid than to the objective landing. When we reached water about waist deep we all sprang overboard, and I got to shore with the line as quickly as I could. We were able to turn and catch the Nell as she came in, but the CaÑonita following ran too far down. We all dashed into the stream almost at the head of the rapid, and there caught her in time. The load was taken out of our boat and she was let down by lines over the worst part. Loading again we lowered to another bad place where we went into camp on the same spot where the Major had camped two years before. We unloaded the other boats and got them down before dark, but we ate supper by firelight. The river averaged about 250 feet wide, with a current of not less than six miles an hour and waves in the rapids over five feet in vertical height. These waves broke up stream as waves do in a swift current, and as the boats cut into them at a high velocity we shipped quantities of water and were constantly drenched, especially the bow-oarsmen. The cliffs on each side, wonderfully picturesque, soon ran up to 1200 or 1500 feet, and steadily increased their altitude. Owing to the dip of the strata across the east and west trend of the canyon the walls on the north were steeper than those on the south, but they seldom rose vertically from the river. Masses of talus, and often alluvial stretches with rocks and trees, were strung along their base, usually offering numerous excellent landings and camping places. We were able to stop about as we wished and had no trouble as to camps, though they were frequently not just what we would have preferred. There was always smooth sand to sleep on, and often plenty of willows to cut and lay in rows for a mattress. It must not be imagined that these great canyons are dark and gloomy in the daytime. They are no more so than an ordinary city street flanked with very high buildings. Some lateral canyons are narrow and so deep that the sun enters them but briefly, but even these are only shady, not dark.

photo, canyon

We remained on the Major's old camp ground a day so that Jones and Cap. could climb to the top of the cliff to get the topography. The next morning though it was Sunday was not to be one of rest. We began by lowering the boats about forty rods farther and there pulled out into the stream and were dashed along by a fierce current with rapid following rapid closely. The descent was nearly continuous with greater declivities thrown in here and there. As usual we took in a good deal of water and were saturated. We were growing accustomed to this, and the boats being built to float even when the open parts were full, we did not mind sitting with our legs in cold water till opportunity came to bail out with the camp kettle left in each open space for the purpose. One rapid where Theodore Hook, of Cheyenne, was drowned in 1869, while attempting to follow the first party, gave us no trouble. We sailed through it easily. Hook had declared that if Powell could descend the river he could too, and he headed a party to follow.[6] The motive I believe was prospecting. I do not know how far they expected to go but this was as far as they got. Their abandoned boats, flat-bottomed and inadequate, still lay half buried in sand on the left-hand bank, and not far off on a sandy knoll was the grave of the unfortunate leader marked by a pine board set up, with his name painted on it. Old sacks, ropes, oars, etc., emphasised the completeness of the disaster.

Not far below this we made what we called a "line portage," that is, the boats were worked along the edge of the rapid, one at a time, in and out among the boulders with three or four men clinging to them to fend them off the rocks and several more holding on to the hundred-foot hawser, so that there was no possibility of one getting loose and smashing up, or leaving us altogether. It was then noon and a camp was made for the remainder of the day on the left bank in a very comfortable spot. We had accomplished three and a half miles, with four distinct rapids run and one "let-down." I went up from the camp along a sandy stretch and was surprised to discover what I took to be the fresh print of the bare foot of a man. Mentioning this when I returned, my companions laughed and warned me to be cautious and give this strange man a wide berth unless I had my rifle and plenty of ammunition. It was the track of a grizzly bear. I saw many tracks on this expedition and on others afterwards but I have never seen a bear yet, except in captivity. The grizzly seemed to shun me; but I believe they will not often attack a man unprovoked, and will lie perfectly still while one may pass within a few feet of their hiding-place.

Three or four deer were seen but with no opportunity to get a shot. All through these upper canyons there was then a great abundance of game of every description, and had our object been to kill for sport, we undoubtedly could have made a pile of carcasses. One or two deer would have been welcome but we had no time to pursue them. Steward came in towards night from his geologising with a splendid bouquet of wild flowers which was greatly admired. Prof. and the Major climbed west of camp to a height of 1200 feet where they obtained a wide outlook and secured valuable notes on the topography. The view was superb as it is anywhere from a high point in this region. When they came back, the Major entertained us by reading aloud The Lay of the Last Minstrel, thus delightfully closing a beautiful Sunday which every man had enjoyed.

In the morning soon after leaving this camp a dull roar ahead told of our approach to Ashley Falls, for which we were on the lookout. The left bank was immediately hugged as closely as possible and we dropped cautiously down to the head of the descent. An immense rock stuck up in the middle of the river and the water divided on this and shot down on each side in a sharp fall of about eight feet. Each was a clear chute and not dangerous to look at, but the effect of so sudden a plunge on one of our loaded boats was too much of a problem for trial. A portage was decided on. The left bank where we were was a mass of enormous broken rocks where it seemed next to impossible to haul a boat. A foot trail was first built which led up some fifty feet above the river, and over, under and around huge boulders to a place down below where it was proposed to carry the boats on skids. The cargoes were first taken over on our backs and when this was done we were about tired out. Our united strength was required to work the Dean down to the selected haven without injury. This was such extremely hard work that the Major and Prof. concluded to shoot the CaÑonita through, light, with no men in her, but controlled by one of our hundred-foot hawsers attached to each end. She was started down and went through well enough, but filling with water and knocking on hidden rocks. Prudence condemned this method and we resorted to sliding and carrying the Nell over the rocks as we had done with the Dean, certain that sleep and food would wipe out our weariness, but not injury to the boats which must be avoided by all means in our power. By the time we had placed the Nell beside the other boats at the bottom it was sunset and too late to do anything but make a camp. Just above the head of the fall was a rather level place in a clump of pines at the very edge of the river forming as picturesque a camp-ground as I have ever seen. A brilliant moon hung over the canyon, lighting up the foam of the water in strong contrast to the red fire crackling its accompaniment to the roar of the rapid. A lunar rainbow danced fairy-like in the mists rising from the turmoil of the river. The night air was calm and mild. Prof. read aloud from Hiawatha and it seemed to fit the time and place admirably. We had few books with us; poems of Longfellow, Whittier, Emerson, and Scott, are all I remember, except a Bible my mother had given me. I suppose Cap. had a Bible also, as he was very religious.

The huge boulders which dammed the river had fallen from the cliffs on the left within a comparatively recent time, transforming an ordinary rapid into the fall; actually damming the water till it is smooth for half a mile above. The largest block of stone is the one in the middle. It is about twenty five feet square. The only white men on record to reach this place except the Major's other party, was General Ashley, the distinguished fur trader with a number of trappers. In his search for fresh beaver grounds he led his party in rude buffalo-skin boats through this canyon in 1825. They had a hard time and nearly starved to death as they depended for food on finding beaver and other game, in which they were disappointed. On one of my trips over the rocks with cargo I made a slight detour on the return to see the boulder where the Major had discovered Ashley's name with a date. The letters were in black, just under a slight projection and were surprisingly distinct considering the forty-six years of exposure. The "2" was illegible and looked like a "3." None of our party seemed to know that it could have been only a "2" for by the year 1835 Ashley had sold out and had given up the fur business in the mountains. Considering his ability, his prominence, his high character, and his identification with the early history of the West, there ought to be greater recognition of him than there has been.

photo, canyon and boats

Below Ashley Falls the declivity of the river was very great with a correspondingly swift current, in one rapid reaching a velocity of at least fifteen miles an hour, and with waves that tossed our heavy boats like feathers. These were the most violent rapids we had yet met, not excepting the ones we had portaged. The cliffs, about 2500 feet high, of red sandstone, were often almost perpendicular on both sides, or at least they impressed us so at the time. There was much vegetation, pine, spruce, willow-leaved cottonwood, aspens, alder, etc., which added to the beauty and picturesqueness of the wild scenery. Beaman stopped each day where possible and desirable to take photographs, and at these times the others investigated the surroundings and climbed up side canyons when they existed. Late in the afternoon we came out suddenly into a small valley or park formerly called Little Brown's Hole, a noted rendezvous for trappers, and which we rechristened Red Canyon Park. This was a beautiful place bounded by round mountains, into which our great cliffs had temporarily resolved themselves, particularly on the right, the left side remaining pretty steep. Our camp was pitched under two large pine trees and every one was prepared, in the intervals of other duties, to take advantage of this respite to patch up clothing, shoes, etc., as well as to do what laundering was necessary. The river ran so quietly that we felt oppressed after the constant roaring since we had entered Red Canyon. I remember climbing up at evening with one of my companions, to a high altitude where the silence was deathlike and overpowering. Prof. and some of the others climbed to greater heights for topographical purposes, easily reaching an altitude of about 4000 feet above the river in an air-line distance of about five miles. Here they obtained a magnificent panorama in all directions, limited on the west by the snowy chain of the Wasatch, and on the north by the Wind River Range like white clouds on the horizon 200 miles away, and they could trace the deep gorges of the river as they cleave the mountains from distance to distance.

Here we saw signs of abundant game, elk, deer, bear, etc., but we had no time to go hunting as a business and the game refused to come to us. Each man had his work to accomplish so that we could get on. It was impracticable to go wandering over the mountains for game, much as we would have enjoyed a change from our bacon and beans. One day, only, was spent here for all purposes, geologising, topographic climbing, and working out the notes from up the river, making repairs and all the other needful things that crowded upon us. Here it was that I did my first tailoring and performed a feat of which I have ever since been proud; namely, transferring some coattails, from where they were of no use, to the knees and seat of my trousers where they were invaluable.

On June 8th, we left this "Camp Number 13" regretfully and plunged in between the cliffs again for about eight miles, running five rapids, when we emerged into a large valley known as Brown's Hole, where our cliffs fell back for two or three miles on each side and became mountain ranges. Pulling along for a couple of miles on a quiet river we were surprised to discover on the left a white man's camp. Quickly landing we learned that it was some cattlemen's temporary headquarters (Harrell Brothers), and some of the men had been to Green River Station since our departure from that place, the distance by trail not being half that by river. They were expecting us and had brought some mail which was a glad sight for our eyes. These men had wintered about 2000 head of Texas cattle in this valley, noted for the salubrity of its winter climate since the days of the fur-hunters, and were on their way to the Pacific coast. We made a camp near by, with a cottonwood of a peculiar "Y" shape, more stump than tree, to give what shade-comfort it could, and enjoyed the relaxation which came with the feeling that we had put twenty-five miles of hard canyon behind, and were again in touch, though so briefly and at long range, with the outer world. As some of these men were to go out to the railway the following Sunday and offered to carry mail for us, we began to write letters to let our friends know how we were faring on our peculiar voyage. This "Brown's Hole" was the place selected by a man who pretended to have been with the former party, for the scene of that party's destruction which he reported to the newspapers. He thought as it was called a "hole" it must be one of the worst places on this raging river, not knowing that in the old trapper days when a man found a snug valley and dwelt there for a time it became known as his "hole" in the nomenclature of the mountains. The Major did not think this a satisfactory name and he changed it to "Brown's Park" which it now bears. I met an "old timer" on a western train several years afterward, who was greatly irritated because of this liberty which the Major took with the cherished designation of the early days. Fort Davy Crockett of the fur-trading period was located somewhere in this valley.

photo, canyon

The next morning after reaching Harrell's camp we were told that, as Frank did not seem able to stand the voyage he was to leave us here, to go over the mountains back to the railway, whence he would go home. We were all sorry to hear this and doubly sorry when on Sunday the 11th he mounted a mule and regretfully rode away with Mr. Harrell. The latter was to telegraph to Salt Lake to Mrs. Powell, to send our mail back to Green River Station so that it could be brought out to us on Mr. Harrell's return. Meanwhile we dropped down the river, now tranquil as a pond, with low banks covered with cottonwood groves. There were two small canyons the first of which we called "Little" about one-half mile long, and the second "Swallow," about two miles long. The cliffs were red sandstone about three hundred feet high, often vertical on both sides. Thousands of swallows swarmed there, and we did not resist giving it an obvious name. Below this the water spread out more and was full of islands. The current was sluggish, two miles an hour perhaps, and we indulged in the novelty of rowing the boats, though we did not try to make speed, for we had to wait for Mr. Harrell's return anyhow. The boats had been lightened by trading to Harrell some of our flour, of which we had an over abundance when it came to portages, for fresh beef, of which we were very much in need. At a convenient place we landed where there was a fine cottonwood grove and remained while Prof. made a climb and to jerk the beef. It was cut into thin strips and hung on a willow framework in the sun with a slow fire beneath. As the thermometer now stood at ninety-nine in the shade the beef was fairly well cured by the 13th and we went on, seeing one of the cattlemen and a Mexican boy on the left bank. In this neighbourhood we passed from Utah into Colorado. The river was six hundred feet broad and about six feet deep. We had no trouble from shoals, and finally lashed the three boats side by side and let them drift along in the slow current. The Major sitting in his arm-chair on the middle boat read aloud selections from The Lady of the Lake which seemed to fit the scene well. Steward and Andy amused themselves by swimming along with the boats and occasionally diving under them.

From our noon camp in a grove of cottonwoods opposite the mouth of Vermilion River, we could plainly see the great portal a mile or two away, the Gate of Lodore, where all this tranquillity would end, for the river cuts straight into the heart of the mountains forming one of the finest canyons of the series where the water comes down as Southey described it at Lodore, and the Major gave it that name. Before night we were at the very entrance and made our camp there in a grove of box-elders. Every man was looking forward to this canyon with some dread and before losing ourselves within its depths we expected to enjoy the letters from home which Mr. Harrell was to bring back from the railway for us. Myriads of mosquitoes gave us something else to think of, for they were exceedingly ferocious and persistent, driving us to a high bluff where a smudge was built to fight them off. We were nearly devoured. I fared best, a friend having given me a net for my head, and this, with buckskin gloves on my hands enabled me to exist with some comfort. The mountains rose abruptly just beyond our camp, and the river cleaved the solid mass at one stroke, forming the extraordinary and magnificent portal we named the "Gate of Lodore," one of the most striking entrances of a river into mountains to be found in all the world. It is visible for miles. Prof. climbed the left side of the Gate and also took observations for time.

I was sent back to the valley to make some sketches and also to accompany Steward on a geological tramp. We had an uncomfortable experience because of the excessive heat and aridity. I learned several things about mountaineering that I never forgot, one of which was to always thoroughly note and mark a place where anything is left to be picked up on a return, for, leaving our haversack under a cedar it eluded all search till the next day, and meanwhile we were compelled to go to the river two or three miles away for water. We had a rubber poncho and a blanket. Using the rubber for a mattress and the blanket for a covering we passed the night, starting early for the mountains, where at last we found our food bag. After eating a biscuit we went back to the river and made tea and toasted some beef on the end of a ramrod, when we struck for the main camp, arriving at dinner-time.

The Gate of Lodore seemed naturally the beginning of a new stage in our voyage to which we turned with some anxiety, for it was in the gorge now before us that on the first trip a boat had been irretrievably smashed. We were now 130 miles by river from the Union Pacific Railway crossing, and in this distance we had descended 700 feet in altitude, more than 400 feet of it in Red Canyon. Lodore was said to have an even greater declivity.

line drawing, waterfall

line drawing, boat on rocky shore