On Saturday the 17th of June, the member of the Harrell party who was to travel overland from Green River Station with mail for us from Salt Lake arrived with only two letters. The despatch had been too late to stop the packet which already had been started for the Uinta Indian Agency, whence it would reach us at the mouth of the Uinta River. It would be another month, at least, before we could receive those longed for words from home. There was nothing now to delay us further, and after dinner the boats were prepared for canyon work again. Through Brown's Park we had not been obliged to pay much attention to "ship-shape" arrangements, but now the story was to be different. The cabins were packed with unusual care, the life-preservers were inflated and put where they could be quickly seized on the approach to a bad descent, and at four o'clock we were afloat. The wide horizon vanished. The cliffs, red and majestic, rose at one bound to a height of about 2000 feet on each side, the most abrupt and magnificent gateway to a canyon imaginable. We entered slowly, for the current in the beginning is not swift, and we watched the mighty precipices while they appeared to fold themselves together behind and shut us more than ever away from the surrounding wilderness. For a short time the stream was quite tame. Then the murmur of distant troubled waters reached us and we prepared for work. The first rapid was not a bad one; we ran it without halting and ran three more in quick succession, one of which was rather ugly.

photo, canyon

This success caused some of us prematurely to conclude that perhaps "the way the water comes down at Lodore," was not so terrific as had been anticipated. The Major said nothing. He kept his eyes directed ahead. The river ran about 300 feet wide, with a current of 10 to 15 miles an hour in the rapids. At every bend new vistas of beauty were exhibited, and the cliffs impressed us more and more by their increasing height and sublimity. Landing places were numerous. Presently there came to our ears a roar with an undertone which spoke a language now familiar, and we kept as close to the right bank as possible, so that a stop could be instantly made at the proper moment. When this moment arrived a landing was effected for examination, and it revealed a furious descent, studded with large rocks, with a possibility of safely running through it if an exact course could be held, but the hour being now late a camp was made at the head and further investigation deferred till the next morning.

This morning was Sunday, and the sun shone into the canyon with dazzling brilliancy, all being tranquil except the foaming rapid. The locality was so fascinating that we lingered to explore, finding especial interest in a delightful grotto carved out of the red sandstone by the waters of a small brook. The entrance was narrow, barely 20 feet, a mere cleft in the beginning, but as one proceeded up it between walls 1500 feet high, the cleft widened, till at 15 rods it ended in an amphitheatre 100 feet in diameter, with a domed top. Clear, cold water trickled and dropped in thousands of diamond-like globules from everything. Mosses and ferns filled all the crevices adding a brilliant green to the picture, while far up overhead a little ribbon of blue sky could be seen; and, beyond the mouth, the yellow river. It was an exquisite scene. At the request of Steward, it's discoverer, it was named after his little daughter, "Winnie's Grotto." So charming was it here that we did not get off till ten o'clock, Beaman meanwhile taking several views.

It was decided to run the rapid, for there was a comparatively straight channel about ten feet wide, and it was only a question of steering right. As our boat was to take it first the other crews came to a point where they could watch us to advantage and profit by our experience. Sticks, as usual, had been thrown in to determine the trend of the main current which must always be considered in dealing with any rapid. If it dashes against a cliff below, means must be found to cut across before reaching that point. On the other hand, if the main current has a comparatively clear chute, running through is not a difficult matter as in the present case. We pulled up-stream a short distance before putting out into the middle. Then we took the rapid as squarely as possible. We saw that we would have to go sharply to the left to avoid one line of rocks, and then to the right to clear another, both of which actions were successfully accomplished. Then we waited below for the others. They had no trouble either, and the three boats sped on and on into the greater depths beyond where wilder waters were foaming.

All rapids have "tails" of waves tapering out below, that is the waves grow smaller as they increase the distance from the initial wave. These waves are the reverse of sea waves, the form remaining in practically one place while the water flies through. In many rapids there is an eddy on each side of this tail in which a current runs up-river with great force. If a boat is caught in this eddy it may be carried a second time through a part of the rapid. We soon arrived at another rapid in which this very thing happened to our boat. We were caught by the eddy and carried up-stream to be launched directly into the path of the Nell, which had started down. Prof. skilfully threw his boat to one side and succeeded in avoiding a collision. Nothing could be done with our boat but to let her go where she would for the moment. We then ran two other rapids, rough ones too, but there was no trouble in them for any of the boats. The velocity at this stage of water was astonishing, and the opportunities to land in quiet water between the rapids now were few.

photo, canyon

About dinner-time as we emerged at high speed from one rapid we saw immediately below lying in ominous shadow, another. It had a forbidding look. In Red Canyon owing to the east-and-west trend the sun fell to the bottom for many more hours than in Lodore which has a north-and-south trend. Hence here even at high noon, one side or the other might be in deep shadow. In this particular case it was the left wall which came down very straight to the river, the outside of a bend. Opposite was a rocky, wooded point. Between these the rapid swept down. There was no slack water separating the end of the rapid we left from the beginning of this one so obscurely situated. Landing was no easy task at the speed with which we were flying, but it would not do to try to run the rapid without an examination. The only possible place to stop was on the right where there was a cove with a little strip of beach, and we headed for it instantly, pulling with every muscle. Yet we continued going on down at railway speed. When at last we arrived within a few feet of the bank the problem was how to stop. The water appeared shallow, though we could not see bottom on account of its murky character, and there was only one course, which was to jump out and make anchors of our legs. As we did so we sank to our waists and were pulled along for a moment but our feet, braced against the large rocks on the bottom, served the purpose and the momentum was overcome. Once the velocity was gone it was easy to get the boat to the beach, and she was tied there just in time to allow us to rush to the help of the Nell.[7] Scarcely had the Nell been tied up than the CaÑonita came darting for the same spot like a locomotive. With the force on hand she was easily controlled, and the fact that she carried the cook outfit as well as the cook added to our joy at having her so speedily on the beach. Andy went to work immediately to build a fire and prepare dinner while the rest overhauled the boats, took observations, plotted notes, or did other necessary things, and the Major and Prof. went down to take a close look at the rapid which had caused us such sudden and violent exertion. They reported a clear channel in the middle, and when we continued after dinner, we went through easily and safely, as of course we could have done in the first place if the Major had been willing to take an unknown risk. But in the shadow the fall might have been almost anything and it would have been foolhardy to run it without examination, even though we found it so hard to stop. Below the rapid that had halted us so abruptly there was nothing for about a mile but easy running, when we stopped in a cove to examine another rapid. Prof. here started up eleven mountain sheep, but by the time he had come back to the boats for a gun they were beyond reach. Though this rapid could be easily run, there was just below it only a short distance the fall where the No-Name was wrecked on the first trip, and we would have to be cautious, for the approach to that fall we knew was treacherous.

The river comes at this point from the east, bends south, then west, and it is just at the western bend that the steep rush of the big fall begins and continues for three-quarters of a mile. On the right the waters beat fiercely against the foot of the perpendicular wall, while on the left they are confined by a rocky point, the end of which is composed of enormous blocks. The space for the stream between this point and the opposite cliff is narrow, while the river above it spreads rather wide with a deep bay on the left where there is quiet water. This bay is protected a quarter of a mile up by a jutting point, and is merely back water. Just off the point the whole river suddenly becomes saucer-like, and quite smooth, with all the currents drawing strongly in from every direction and pouring toward and over the falls. An object once within the grip of this "sag," as we called it, is obliged to pass over the falls. The situation is peculiar and it occurs nowhere else on the whole river. Not being understood on the first voyage one of the boats, the No-Name, was trapped, driven over the falls, and broken to fragments, though the men were rescued below. The disaster was the cause of some unpleasantness on that voyage, the men blaming the Major for not signalling properly and he blaming them for not landing quickly when he signalled.

We were on the lookout for it and the Major having the wreck to emphasise the peculiarities of the "sag" desired to have every boat turn the point at the correct moment. Ours ran through the preliminary rapid easily and we dropped cautiously down upon our great enemy, hugging the left bank as closely as we could to reach the jutting point around which the boat must pass to arrive in the safe waters of the bay. We turned the point with no difficulty, and proceeded a distance across the bay where we landed on a beach to watch for the other boats, the steersmen having been informed as to the precariousness of the locality. Nevertheless it was so deceptive that when the Nell came in sight she was not close enough to the left shore for safety. The Major signalled vigorously with his hat, and Prof. took the warning instantly and turned in, but when the CaÑonita appeared we saw at once that she was altogether too far out and for some seconds we stood almost petrified while the Major again signalled with all his might. It seemed an even chance; then she gained on the current and finally reached good water whence she came to our position. Beaman had been a pilot on the Great Lakes and was expert with a steering-oar, and probably for that reason he was somewhat careless. There was hardly an excuse in this instance for a boat not to take the proper course for the experience of the No-Name told the whole story, yet the place is so peculiar and unusual that one even forewarned may fail. Across the bay pulling was safe and we ran to a beach very close to the head of the falls where we made our camp, the sun now being low and the huge cliffs casting a profound and sombre shadow into the bottom. It was a wild, a fierce, an impressive situation. The unending heavy roar of the tumbling river, the difficulty if not impossibility of turning back even if such a thing had been desired, the equal difficulty if not impossibility of scaling the walls that stood more than 2000 feet above us, and the general sublimity of the entire surroundings, rendered our position to my mind intensely dramatic. Two years before, on this identical spot the Major had camped with the loss of one of his boats bearing heavily on his mind, though his magnificent will, his cheerful self-reliance, and his unconquerable determination to dominate any situation gave him power and allied him to the river itself. The place practically chose its own name, Disaster Falls, and it was so recorded by the topographers.

A hard portage was ahead of us and all turned in early to prepare by a good sleep for the long work of the next day. No tent as a rule was erected unless there was rain, and then a large canvas from each boat was put up on oars or other sticks, the ends being left open. In a driving storm a blanket would answer to fill in. As there was now no indication of a storm our beds were placed on the sand as usual with the sides of the canyon for chamber walls and the multitudinous stars for roof.

A short distance below the great rapid near which we were camped was a second equally bad, the two together making up the three-quarter mile descent of Disaster Falls. Between them the river became level for a brief space and wider, and a deposit of boulders and gravel appeared there in the middle above the surface at the present stage of water. It was this island which had saved the occupants of the No-Name, and from which they were rescued.

We were up very early in the morning, and began to carry the cargoes by a trail we made over and around the huge boulders to a place below the bad water of the first fall. The temperature was in the 90's and it was hot work climbing with a fifty-pound sack on one's back, but at last after many trips back and forth every article was below. Then the empty boats were taken one at a time, and by pulling, lifting, and sliding on skids of driftwood, and by floating wherever practicable in the quieter edges of the water, we got them successfully past the first fall. Here the loads were replaced, and with our good long and strong lines an inch thick, the boats were sent down several hundred yards in the rather level water referred to intervening between the foot of the upper fall and the head of the lower, to the beginning of the second descent. This all occupied much time, for nothing could be done rapidly, and noon came, in the midst of our work. Anticipating this event Andy had gone ahead with his cook outfit and had baked the dinner bread in his Dutch oven. With the usual fried bacon and coffee the inner man was speedily fortified for another wrestle with the difficult and laborious situation. The dinner bread was baked from flour taken out of a hundred-pound sack that was found lying on top of an immense boulder far above the river. This was flour that had been rescued by the former party from the wreckage of the No-Name, but as they could not add it to their remaining heavily laden boats, the Major had been compelled to leave it lying here. They needed it badly enough towards the end. It was still sweet and good, but we could not take it either. We were so much better provisioned than the former party that it was, besides, not necessary for us, and we also left it where it was. Our supplies were not likely to fail us at the mouth of the Uinta, and beyond that there was not yet need to worry. Although there were only two points below Gunnison Crossing in a distance of nearly 600 miles where it was known that the river could be reached, the Crossing of the Fathers and the mouth of the Paria not far below it, we felt sure that those who had been charged with the bringing of supplies to the mouth of the "Dirty Devil" would be able to get there, and as we were to stop for the season at the Paria, we would have time to plan for beyond. In any case our boats were carrying now all they could, and without a regret we turned our backs on the outcast flour. It was an ordinary sack of bolted wheat flour, first in a cotton bag then in a gunny bag and had been lying unbroken for two years. The outside for half an inch was hard, but inside of that the flour was in excellent condition. Two oars were also found. They were doubtless from the No-Name.

photo, canyon

After dinner we once more unloaded the boats and carried everything on our backs up and across a long rocky hill, or point, down to a spot, about a third of a mile altogether, where the goods were piled on a smooth little beach at the margin of a quiet bay. It took many trips, and it was exhausting work, but in addition to bringing the cargoes down, we also by half past five got one of the boats there, by working it over the rocks and along the edge. Here we camped and had supper as soon as Andy could get it ready. It may be asked by some not familiar with scientific work, how we always knew the time, but as we had the necessary instruments for taking time astronomically, there was nothing difficult about it. We also carried fine chronometers, and had a number of watches.

In the sand near the camp, which place at highest water might have formed an eddy behind some huge rocks, a few old knives, forks, a rusty bake oven, and other articles were found, the wreckage from some party prior to that of the Major's first. He said they had not left anything of that sort, and he had noticed the same things on the former trip.

The total fall of the river here is about fifty feet, and no boat could get through without smashing.

The morning of June 20th found us early at work bringing down the two boats we had left, and as soon as this was accomplished the cargoes were put on once more, and we lowered the three one at a time, along the left bank by means of our hundred-foot hawsers, with everything in them, about a quarter of a mile to another bad place which we called Lower Disaster Falls. Here we unloaded and made a short portage while Andy was getting dinner. When we had disposed of this and reloaded, we pulled into the river, which averaged about 350 feet wide, with a current in places of 15 miles or more, and quickly arrived at three bad rapids in succession, all of which we ran triumphantly, though the former party made portages around them. In the third our boat took in so much water that we made a landing in order to bail out. Continuing immediately we reached another heavy rapid, but ran it without even stopping to reconnoitre, as the way seemed perfectly clear. We took the next rapid with equal success, though our boat got caught in an eddy and was turned completely round, while the others ran past us. They landed to wait, and there we all took a little breathing spell before attempting to run another rapid just below which we made camp in a grove of cedars, at the beginning of a descent that looked so ugly it was decided to make a "let-down" on the following day. Everybody was wet to the skin and glad to get on some dry clothes, as soon as we could pull out our bags. The cliffs had now reached an altitude of at least 2500 feet, and they appeared to be nearly perpendicular, but generally not from the water's edge where there was usually a bank of some kind or the foot of a steep talus. There were box-elder and cottonwood trees here and there, and cedars up the cliffs wherever they could find a footing. On the heights tall pine trees could be seen. The cliff just opposite camp was almost vertical from the rapid at its foot to the brink 2500 feet above, and flame red.

After supper as we all sat in admiration and peering with some awe at the narrow belt of sky, narrower than we had before seen it, the stars slowly came out, and presently on the exact edge of the magnificent precipice, set there like a diadem, appeared the Constellation of the Harp. It was an impressive sight, and immediately the name was bestowed "The Cliff of the Harp."[8]

Prof. read Marmion aloud, and Jack gave us a song or two, before we went to sleep feeling well satisfied with our progress into the heart of Lodore.

This portion of the river has a very great declivity, the greatest as we afterwards determined on the entire Green and Colorado with the exception of a section of Cataract and a part of the First Granite Gorge of the Grand Canyon, where the declivity is much the same, with Cataract Canyon in the lead. A quarter-mile above our camp a fine little stream, Cascade Creek, came in on the right. Beaman made some photographs in the morning, and we began to work the boats down along the edge of the rapid beside which we had camped. This took us till noon, and we had dinner before venturing on. When we set forth we had good luck, and soon put four rapids behind, running the first, letting down past two and running the fourth which was a pretty bad one. Three-quarters of a mile of smooth water then gave us a respite much appreciated, when we arrived at a wild descent about as bad as Disaster Falls, though more safely approached. This was called Triplet Falls by the first party. We went into camp at the head of it on the left bank. This day we found a number of fragments of the No-Name here and there, besides an axe and a vise abandoned by the first party, and a welcome addition to our library in a copy of Putnam's Magazine. This was the first magazine ever to penetrate to these extreme wilds. The river was from 300 to 400 feet wide, and the walls ran along with little change, about 2500 feet high. Opposite camp was Dunn's Cliff, the end of the Sierra Escalante, about 2800 feet high, named for one of the first party who was killed by the Indians down in Arizona. We remained a day here to let the topographers climb out if they could. They had little trouble in doing this, and after a pleasant climb reached the top through a gulch at an altitude above the river of 3200 feet. The view was extensive and their efforts were rewarded by obtaining much topographical information. Late in the day the sky grew dark, the thunder rolled, and just before supper we had a good shower.

photo, canyon

On the 23d progress was continued and every one felt well after the cessation for a day of the knocking about amidst the foam and boulders. It took us, with hard work, till two o'clock to get past Triplet Falls by means of a double portage. About half a mile below this we were confronted by one of the worst looking places we had yet seen, and at the suggestion of Steward it received the significant name of "Hell's Half Mile." The entire river for more than half a mile was one sheet of white foam. There was not a quiet spot in the whole distance, and the water plunged and pounded in its fierce descent and sent up a deafening roar. The only way one could be heard was to yell with full lung power. Landing at the head of it easily we there unloaded the Dean and let her down by line for some distance. In the worst place she capsized but was not damaged. Then the water, near the shore we were on, though turbulent in the extreme became so shallow on account of the great width of the rapid here that when we had again loaded the Dean there were places where we were forced to walk alongside and lift her over rocks, but several men at the same time always had a strong hold on the shore end of the line. In this way we got her down as far as was practicable by that method. At this point the river changed. The water became more concentrated and consequently deeper. It was necessary to unload the boat again and work her on down with a couple of men in her and the rest holding the line on shore as we had done above. When the roughest part was past in this manner, we made her fast and proceeded to carry her cargo down to this spot which took some time. It was there put on board again and the hatches firmly secured. The boat was held firmly behind a huge sheltering rock and when all was ready her crew took their places. With the Major clinging to the middle cabin, as his chair had been left above and would be carried down later, we shoved out into the swift current, here free from rocks, and literally bounded over the waves that formed the end of the descent, to clear water where we landed on a snug little beach and made the boat secure for the night. Picking our way along shore back to the head of the rapid, camp was made there as the darkness was falling and nothing more could be done that night.

photo; canyon, rapid and boat

It was next to impossible to converse, but every one being very tired it was not long after supper before we took to the blankets and not a man was kept awake by the noise. It seemed only a few moments before it was time to go at it again. All hands were up early and the other two boats were taken laboriously down in the same manner as the Dean had been engineered, but though we toiled steadily it was one o'clock by the time we succeeded in placing them alongside that boat. Anticipating this, Andy's utensils were taken down on the Nell, and while we were working with the CaÑonita, our good chef prepared the dinner and we stopped long enough to fortify ourselves with it. Having to build a trail in some places in order to carry the goods across ridges and boulders, it was not alone the work on lowering the boats which delayed us. While we were absorbed in these operations the camp-fire of the morning in some way spread unperceived into the thick sage-brush and cedars which covered the point, and we vacated the place none too soon, for the flames were leaping high, and by the time we had finished our dinner at the foot of the rapid, the point we had so recently left was a horrible furnace. The fire was jumping and playing amidst dense smoke which rolled a mighty column, a thousand feet it seemed to me above the top of the canyon; that is over 3000 feet into the tranquil air.

At two o'clock all three boats were again charging down on a stiff current with rather bad conditions, though we ran two sharp rapids without much trouble. In one the Nell got on a smooth rock and came near capsizing. The current at the spot happened to be not so swift and she escaped with no damage. Then we were brought up by another rapid, a very bad one. Evening was drawing on and every man was feeling somewhat used up by the severe exertions of the day. Camp was therefore ordered at the head of this rapid in the midst of scenery that has probably as great beauty, picturesqueness, and grandeur as any to be found in the whole West. I hardly know how to describe it. All day long the surroundings had been supremely beautiful, majestic, but at this camp everything was on a superlative scale and words seem colourless and futile. The precipices on both sides, about 2200 feet high, conveyed the impression of being almost vertical. Our camp was several hundred yards from the rapid and we could talk with some comfort. After supper I wandered alone down beside the furiously plunging waters and came upon a brood of young magpies airing themselves on the sand. The roar of the fall prevented their hearing and I walked among them, picked one up and took it to camp to show their comicality, when I let it go back to the rendezvous. I was censured especially by the Major, for cruelty to animals.

The next day was Sunday and it came with a radiance that further enhanced the remarkable grandeur around us. Near by was a side canyon of the most picturesque type, down which a clear little brook danced from ledge to ledge and from pool to pool, twenty to thirty feet at a time. We named it Leaping Brook. The rocks were mossy, and fir trees, pines, cedars, and cottonwoods added the charm of foliage to the brilliant colours of the rocks and the sheen of falling water, here and there lost in the most profound shadows. Beaman made a number of views while the rest of the men climbed for various purposes. Steward, Clem, and I by a circuitous route arrived at a point high up on Leaping Brook where the scene was beyond description. To save trouble on the return we descended the brook as it was easy to slide down places that could not be climbed. In this manner we succeeded in getting to the last descent near camp, to discover that it was higher than we thought and almost vertical with rough rocks at the bottom. As we could not go back and had no desire to break a leg, we were in trouble. Then we spied Jack in the camp a short distance away and called to him to put a tree up for us. Good-natured Jack, always ready to help, assumed a gruff tone and pretended he would never help us, but we knew better, and presently he threw up a long dead pine which we could reach by a short slide, and thus got to the river level. It was now noon, and as soon as dinner was over the boats were lowered by lines past the rapid beside camp and once below this we shot on our way with a fine current, soon arriving at two moderate rapids close together, which we ran. This brought us to a third with an ugly look, but on examination Prof. and the Major decided to run it. Getting a good entrance all the boats went through without the slightest mishap. A mile below this place we landed at the mouth of a pretty little stream entering through a picturesque and narrow canyon on the left. We called it Alcove Brook.

Beaman took some negatives here. This was not the easy matter that the dry-plate afterwards made it, for the dark tent had to be set up, the glass plate flowed with collodion, then placed in the silver bath, and exposed wet in the camera, to be immediately developed and washed and placed in a special box for carriage.

This would have been an ideal place for a hunter. Numerous fresh tracks of grizzlies were noticed all around, but we did not have the good luck to see any of the animals themselves. Happy grounds these canyons were at that time for the bears, and they may still be enjoying the seclusion the depths afford. The spot had an additional interest for us because it was here that on the first trip the brush caught fire soon after the party had landed, and they were forced to take to the boats so unceremoniously that they lost part of their mess-kit and some clothing.

On leaving Alcove Brook we ran a rapid and then another a little farther on, but they were easy and the river was much calmer though the current was still very swift. At the same time the walls to our satisfaction began to give indications of breaking. They became less high, less compact, and we ventured to hope that our battle with the waters of Lodore was about over. The Major said that, as nearly as he could remember, the end of the great gorge was not very far below. Though the sky was beginning to show the evening tints we kept on and ever on, swiftly but smoothly, looking up at the sky and at the splendid walls. The sun went down. The chasm grew hazy with the soft light of evening and the mystery of the bends deepened. There was no obstruction and in about three miles from Alcove Brook we rather abruptly emerged into a beautiful small opening, where the immediate walls were no more than six hundred feet high. A river of considerable size flowed in on the left, through a deep and narrow canyon. This was the Yampa, sometimes then called Bear River. By seven o'clock we had moored the boats a few yards up its mouth and we made a comfortable camp in a box-elder grove. We had won the fight without disaster and we slept that night in peace.

Lodore is wholly within the State of Colorado. It is 20-3/4 miles long with a descent of 420 feet,[9] mostly concentrated between Disaster Falls and Hell's Half-Mile, a distance of about 12 miles. The total descent from the Union Pacific crossing was 975 feet in a distance, as the river runs, of about 153 miles.

line drawing, bears

photo, canyon and river mouth

line drawing, boats on low beach