42 minute read
A Journal of John A. Widtsoe
Utah Historical Quarterly
Vol. 23, 1955, Nos. 1-4
A JOURNAL OF JOHN A. WIDTSOE
Colorado River Party, September 3-19, 1922, preliminary to the Santa Fe Conference which framed the Colorado River Compact.
EDITED BY A. R. MORTENSEN
WITH A FOREWORD BY G. HOMER DURHAM
FOREWORD
DURING THE hearings before the House Committee on the Colorado River Storage Project in January, 1954, Mr. William R. Wallace inserted statements in Salt Lake City newspapers calling attention, among other things, to the role of Dr. John A. Widtsoe in the development and formulation of the Colorado River Compact, signed at Santa Fe, New Mexico, in 1922. Dr. Widtsoe represented the state of Utah, with R. E. Caldwell and others, in arriving at this historic decision. During the public debate on the Echo Park Dam controversy in 1954, Mr. Wallace called attention to the "foresight" of Dr. Widtsoe at Santa Fe, in framing the Compact so that the upper basin states of New Mexico, Colorado, Wyoming, and Utah might retain and not lose their rights.
Said Mr. Wallace later that month in an address January 29, 1954, at the Hotel Utah for the John A. Widtsoe Memorial Foundation:
In his autobiography, Dr. Widtsoe refers to the matter in the following brief account:
What follows below, then, is an eye-witness account not only of the trip, but observations on the attitudes and personalities of some of the men who were influential in making policy for the Colorado River. Following the passage of the river, the party also toured the region of Hoover Dam, by land, before proceeding to Santa Fe for the official conference.
Dr. Widtsoe characterized the Santa Fe sessions and their long-range results as follows:
The role of Dr. Widtsoe at the Santa Fe Conference is a story for other telling. Suffice it to say, as repeated by Mr. Wallace, he was instrumental in revising downward the amount of water guaranteed by the upper states for annual delivery to the states of the lower basin. The margin, in the revision, represents Utah's potential for future industrial growth.
The journal which follows was Dr. Widtsoe's daily account of the pre-Santa Fe exploratory party. Its insight into the beauties of nature, into men, and into the forces that shape policy, as well as its interest as a literary document, mark it for careful reading. The material was discovered among Dr. Widtsoe's private papers after his death, November 29, 1952.
—G. Homer Durham
JOURNAL
Sept. 3rd, Sunday, 1922.—Left [Salt Lake City] on 10:30 A.M. D. & R. G. Train for Richfield, with R. E. Caldwell. C. C. Stetson joined us at Hotel Utah. On train also Dennis, Kayler and Thomas. Director A. P. Davis came on train at Provo. LaRue, Stabler, and Birdseye came in by auto during evening.
Reached Richfield about 5:30 P.M. Day perfect. Somewhat cool, sunlit. Put up at Johnston House. Pres. Christensen of Stake Presidency called. Later Pres. R. D. Young of Sevier Stake Presidency. He accepted Mr. Caldwell's invitation to become the third member from Utah,
Many smaller items of business at Richfield. The town was decorated with flags—not in our honor, I fear. The Press Association of the state has just met here. Restless night from something I had eaten.
Sept. 4th, Monday.—Left Richfield about 8:30 A.M. Delay due to one machine breaking. One big truck for equipment and three of our party. Two passenger autos for the remainder. Drove by way of Glenwood over mountains. Clouds in great masses under a blue sky. Stetson wonders if we shall see anything finer. Caldwell doesn't know. Everybody else has opinions. Drove to Grass Valley over mountain*—9,200 feet elevation, down to Loa. The day again perfect, rather cold.
Reach Loa about 12:20 M. Dinner at Robinson Hotel. Saw Scott McClellan, Pres. Eckersley and many other friends. Talked with some old pioneers who in 1879 were at Hall's Crossing. Loa was named for Mauna Loa by a Sandwich Island missionary. Left Loa at 1:30 P.M. Our driver was Brother Ivie, former student U.A.C. and now teacher in County High School at Bicknell. In car, Director Davis, Prof. Thomas, Pres. Young and I. In short time the high plateau country opened with its variety of colors, fantastic shapes; aeolian cuttings, buttes, towers, etc. Passed through many little villages—Lyman, Bicknell, near Teasdale, Fruita, where we had fruit. In Fruita met party of young ladies well dressed which caused much favorable comment from the party.
Heavy rains yesterday had cut into Capitol Wash roads. About four miles down road had to be repaired 6 or 7 times. Whole company out making roads—cars swinging at all angles over broken roads. We got through without mishap. A glorious canyon—approaching at the upper end, Zion Canyon. The day perfect with a few threatening clouds. Caldwell, Stetson and Dennis, on freight wagon, up in the air part of the time. Looked like professional acrobats. Stetson takes photos from top of truck —probably moving pictures. Everybody happy.
Out of Wash a mile or two darkness came. Camped near first ranch on Pleasant Creek. Caldwell, Stetson and I made beds under a branching cottonwood, not far from Pleasant Creek. It rained, or rather sprinkled. Too dark to investigate larder. So bacon and eggs. Butter lost. Full moon—fine evening—Stetson sore and tired. Talks of sleeping. Elev. 5800 feet. LaRue calm, but terribly worried about the butter. A. P. Davis during day told of organization of Geological Survey. We decided (?) to rename Capitol Wash—Capitol Gorge.
Sept. 5, Tuesday.—Broke camp at sunrise and left Pleasant Creek. Still in autos. 8:30 A.M. reached Bowns Ranch on Sandy Creek. A shack or two—headquarters for the ranging crew. Tough automobile roads. Saw two wild animals and squirrels on the trip! The scenery beggars description. See my letter to Leah.
Changed baggage here from auto to wagons. Two four horse teams. Baggage and bedding and provisions—in wagon; passengers on top. A hot day, with a gende wind moderating the heat. No shade. Drove at about 3 miles per hour. In our wagon, Director Davis, Prof. Thomas and the three Mormons. Everybody in good temper. The scenery continues wonderful. We travel in gulches and draws. Vegetation very scarce, though at Bowns an abundance of Russian Thistle. (At Bowns an irrigation system— perhaps 1000 acres alfalfa, etc. Promise of big place with the immense range facilities on Henry Mountains). Unusual range of layered rocks, towering, 1000 feet high on one side and equally high red sandstone cliffs on other. Towers, castles and buttes etc., break the level strata. Traveled mostly down the GrandGulch. Camped for noon. A dry camp. Towards evening left red sandstones, into a narrow valley of white sandstone and limestone. No water; no animal life; one mourning dove all day; scanty vegetation; true desert. Here and there, where a flood has washed, there are deep chasms showing soils 20-30 feet deep. Traveled from Bowns about 18 miles.
Camped in a dry spot by side of road, near Bitter Creek. Made beds; then supper. Party tired. Our camp is in a valley about 1 1/2 miles long; 3/4 miles wide. The usual horizontal white and red rocks seem tilted on end. On the side of the valley opposite to the camp east runs Bitter Creek:—which is not much more than a seep. Over the low ridge west of the camp is a small romantic valley; which, as the full moon filled it with mystery and beauty held me for a long time. On the east ridge is the clear outline of a camel resting. The head is distinct; the neck somewhat depressed, the back with two humps very marked. This is a good land mark. Camp and place called The Camel's Rest.
Wednesday, Sept. 6, 1922.—Full moon throughout the night. Warm and balmy until early morning when a wind arose followed by a drop in temperature. All up at 5:30. Breakfast. No water for washing unless we go nearly a mile to Bitter Creek. An unwashed crowd. Everybody happy. Stetson did not sleep well. Mr. Davis loaned me needle and thread and I sewed on button.
The rising sun lighted up the yellow west wall with a golden splendor, glorious to the soul. A flock of geese cackled through the gray of the dawn. Some mourning doves were seen at sungravel rise. Crickets here and there faintly throughout the night. We were off for Muley Twist. No one knows distances from Bown's ranch. Probably about 60 miles to River. The draw narrows and the scenery becomes rougher and more picturesque. About six miles down we pass the Crotch where a branch of die road takes off into Hanksville country. Over hill and dale, skidding on rock and soft earth and making sharp curves we finally come to Muley Twist Canyon (a muley horse died there.) The road through Muley Twist Canyon takes off from our road and goes into the Escalante, Hole in the Rock, and Tropic (Bryce Canyon) country. Muley Water Holes are just south of the Canyon. The whole side of the gently sloping mountain is white sandstones with pockets here and there. Water collects in these holes. The lower ones accessible to stock, the higher ones are not. On the east side of Muley are the red sandstones. One huge dominating red butte, the largest so far, forms a decided landmark. We are traveling in Grand Gulch. Numerous places here could well be named. Three miles above Muley on west of road is a great red sandstone bluff, which from the north looks like a sphinx. We named it Sphinx Bluff. A little lower down on the very edge of the western cliff is the outline of a locomotive, furnace and all. We named it Locomotive Valley. We stopped about 11 A.M. at Muley Tanks for lunch. We had lemonade! Also good water!!
Davis and Caldwell in discussion about Dam. Clear Davis now prefers Boulder Canyon Dam, though fair to the whole Basin. Some cattle seen along road this A.M. Nearly all white faced; sleek and fat. LaRue and Birdseye hunted cotton tail rabbits. Shot four. There is so much magnificent scenery that in spite of our best desires, we are not appreciating it as we should. Marvelous how man becomes callous! After lunch I picked flints and agates from creek bed and chips from Indian work. Also one spearhead and a beautiful dark red flint knife (skinning knife.)
We traveled down Grand Gulch on the rocky creek bed. The Gulch has narrowed, the scenery has increased in grandeur. About four P.M. we stopped for fifteen minutes at Fountain Tanks hollowed out by wind in spots of soft material. Then on to head of Hall Creek where we camped for the night. At this point on west side of canyon, great sloping mountain sides of gray sandstone or limestone. Pots hollowed out everywhere. Pools of water in river or creek bed, though evidences everywhere that at flood time the water runs 14 to 20 feet or more higher. In one case a Cottonwood stands exposed in six feet of earth, the bark fully down to bottom, showing how earth had been gathered around tree, then washed away again. A fluctuating country wherever the water can reach it.
About three miles up from camp passed some high cliffs composed of earth and pebble conglomerate. Weathering wherever a flat rock had fallen had produced high pillars, with the rock on top. Named it Toadstool Curve. Fine moon again at night though late because of 1000 feet of vertical red cliff just beyond our beds, on east side. Fried rabbit for supper. In bed about 9:30 P.M. Camp elev. 3878.
Thursday, Sept. 7, 1922.—Up at 5 A.M. Started at 6:30 A.M. Crossed Hall's Divide. Bad road. Then down creek bed nearly all the time until we reached Hall's Ranch at 10:15 A.M. Half of party went through canyon of Hall Creek. Wonderful they declare. Called it Canopy Gorge from overhanging rock. Vast amphitheatre there with perfect acoustics. About six miles of rounding narrow gorge—in places only 30 feet across. Rested horses and had lunch at Hall's Ranch. Old ranch house now moved away. Country continues the same. High horizontal red cliffs to east; high nearly vertical gray cliffs to west. Probably traveling along fault line, now Grand Gulch. Party that went through Canopy Gorge doctoring blistered feet.
This whole trip from Loa down has been wonderfully picturesque—more than that: full of magnificent scenery, and a remarkable variety of forms. A good trip for a geological party or for any lovers of nature. The country is of course similar to that on the road down to Cainsville and Hanksville, but very different in detail. To go down this way, then up the river and back by way of Hanksville would be one of the great trips of the world. Publicity should be given to this region. Hall's Crossing named from Hall's creek which enters the Colorado River at that point. Hall's Creek named for Hall's Ranch, at which I am now writing. We have traveled along one of the emigrant trails leading to San Juan County. Mr. Pace, one of the original party to cross the Colorado in 1879 still lives in Loa, where I had a conversation with him as we came down on the trip. All along the road in Grand Gulch, upper portion especially, are small areas that could be cultivated if water were available. Apparently from the flood marks, there is ample water leaving the gulch to care for all the lands and surplus, a big one, if stored. There are numerous places where storage could be effected; the chief danger and obstacle being the shifting conditions at flood time, and the fierceness of the floods when they come. The reclamation of these small areas is not, probably, a problem of this generation. Several long talks with Mr. Davis and Mr. Dennis separately. Great differences of opinion involved in Colorado River controversy.
Baker's Ranch to which we are now driving, was first settled by Smith, then sold to Baker. Quite an area, perhaps acres here at Hall's Ranch—with Cottonwood. Hall's Creek runs to one side. A small spring there also. Baker's Ranch elev. 3664. Canyon begins to widen. Left Hall's Ranch for Baker's Ranch at 12 m. Reached Baker's Ranch at 1 P.M. Small three roomed shanty, cistern and corral at Bakers. Now run by two Baker brothers, sons of Brother Baker of Richfield who bought the ranch. Left Baker's at 1:20 p.m. Canyon widens. Can see across Colorado into San Juan Country. Thousands of acres of red sandy soil along first four miles from Bakers. Could no doubt be irrigated from Hall's Creek. From that point soil becomes very gravelly and rocky and of doubtful agricultural value.
The cliffs or mountains that have followed us on the east all the way down Grand Gulch—great thicknesses of cholocate colored rock, in horizontal strata, underlaid by red rock—terminates a mile or two below Bakers. A bold magnificent cliff projects at the end looking towards the Colorado River, and forms a great landmark. Lower down towards the Colorado River we can look back and see the other side of this chocolate capped red rock beneath the mountain. It is as sheer on that side as on the side we have seen from Grand Gulch. The mountain on the west side of Grand Gulch, gray and vertical, also terminates long before the River is reached. As we look back on them they are covered forest like with knobs or nipples. The party suggested we call it Nipple Mountain. On the way we get a magnificent view to the east of the Henry Mountains rising out of the broken country. The one farthest north seems the highest—probably Mt. Ellen. Look up.
About four miles from Bakers, where we met Mr. Wimmer, foreman of boat party, Wimmer, Caldwell, Young, Stetson and I walked the three or four miles to the River. Hall's creek has cut deep into the rock, forming a very high and narrow canyon. As we approach the River, two miles away can be seen the sheer, red wall against which the River runs on the east side. Then, great, barren, smooth rocks like those on the beaten shoreline, except a hundred times larger, along which we slide. Suddenly, in a cut in the rocks, we get a view of the River. A long and wide beach, with several fine clumps of trees. Just beyond the beach down stream the River turns sharply to the left, just below the junction is Hall's Creek, between sheer cliffs, 600 feet high, and only 175 feet apart. All along the River, the cliffs to the last sheer and high red sandstone.
On the top of the first hill we meet the boatmen, all from Los Angeles and Pasadena: Wimmer and his son; two brothers W. H. and L. C. Ramsauer; Lewis R. Freeman (wild man) and W. W. Jones. Over the cliffs we reach the camp in a beautiful grove of cottonwoods. I go down to look at the River and the boats. Evidences here and there of dredging operation and oil service. The Colorado—yellowish brown, but stately and certain of its own value. Relatively few men have been here. Many emotions arise. The wagons arrive. All well. The first stage of the expedition is over. Just five days from home. The brothers White from Bicknell were our team drivers. Early supper, cooked by the boatmen. Talk and plans. In bed at 9:30. The full moon filled the valley with a new beauty. The high sheer wall to the east looked dark and forbidding; the lower range on die west glowed with a living glory. The small valley had its sounds— the sounds of the desert—intense in their stillness. God be thanked for the earth and its beauty; for life; for hope—and now at this moment for our safe journey so far.
Friday, Sept. 8, 1922. —Call was promised for 6 o'clock, but the "early birds" of the party began to make noises at 5 A.M. Up and dressed at 5:30 A.M. Breakfast. Packing. Davis shaves; Caldwell half shaves; Thomas sleeps in clean underwear; Dennis puts on a clean shirt—everybody else observe camp proprieties. The sun rises high and warm. The crossing of the Pioneers, Hall's Crossing, was some distance above the landing place of the wagons, up towards the sunken dredge. 16 Elev. at Hall's Crossing 3240 feet. Boats packed. Left in boats at 8:45 A.M. Sept. 8— from Hall's Landing. High red sandstone on both sides—varying in height. Mostly in shades. Green glens here and there.
At 10 A.M. stopped at Site of Bedrock Dam. Rock across river—Guertzik [quartzite?]—Red and chocolate sandstone in sides. Left at 11 A.M. Wimmer Sr., LaRue, Davis, and I in rear boat of the first two. Caldwell, Dennis, Birdseye, Kayler, Stabler and Freeman in front boat. Young Wimmer in rear of second two; Stetson, Young and Thomas in front of second "two." Jones and Ramsauer boatmen. Ran the Whirlpool Rapids about 12 M and half filled our boats. Stopped just below for lunch, under overhanging rock. Rested on fine light yellowish gray, almost white, sand. High cliffs, 800 to 900 feet high on both sides. River perhaps 400 feet wide. A few soft layers in rock, but most of it seems very hard. All red in color. From point to point the picturesqueness of the canyon increases. The walls are less vertical. Left lunch camp at 1:15 PM. Stopped at oil seep on right hand side of canyon at 2:45. Pipes driven down there— an old scraper; dugway, 2 cabins lower down. Oil seeping out of side hill. Stopped only 10 minutes. Three quarters of an hour later stopped to inspect a damsite. Found shale in walls. No further examinations.
The scenery is sublime. Great cliffs of magestic proportions and vivid red, and of infinite variety. Immense arches, auditoriums, stadiums, amphitheatres, temples, palaces, nature's writing on the walls. There are hanging gardens, groves and glens, apparently blind alleys that turn everywhere as you come nearer. Occasionally mighty rocks tower out of the river. There is an overpowering quality in the feeling induced by the scenes along the River. One of the most notable days of my life!
We camped about 5:45 p.m. opposite the mouth of Escalante River. The sandbars would not permit us to camp in the mouth of the Escalante River. The thrilling moment of the day was when we shot the rapids (whirlpool) and the high waves broke over our gunwales. The next, when our boat struck a sharp rock, and a one inch hole was cut in our boat. The red sandstone cliffs at our evening camp are about 1200 feet high, rising sheer from the river but castellated on top. Saw on the sand at lunch time, tracks of cats, etc. Great blue heron stand and fly gracefully at many points. White heron also at times. Ducks also quite plentiful. Our camp is on a high sandbar thrown against the side of the canyon. The sand is fine, clean and dry. The water from Escalante Creek muddier than the River; and the water of the River a brownish yellow and almost tepid in temperature.
Stetson, Stabler, Birdseye and Dennis played cards in boat by candle light until 9:45. No betting, but much seriousness. High Stakes. The others went to bed early and talked themselves to sleep.
Saturday, Sept. 9, 1922. —Towards midnight the moon came over the high mountain. A cloudless day. About four in the morning the light of day began to come. The great wall opposite our camp came out of its gray dimness yellow, pink and salmon then an intense red, with the culmination of yellow red when the full rays of the morning sun struck them. Breakfast—'morning work.
Left in boats at 8 A.M. A cool morning. Traveled 45 minutes. Reached Hole in the Rock at 8:40. Landed. Just above, about a hundred feet above River, a bench covered with grass and brush. Clearly a perennial spring there. From the River, the Hole in the Rock is a narrow V shaped valley, running back only a short distance, and then the V sloping steeply upward. At the crotch 1200 feet high, is a hole, U shaped, with a narrow slit lower and to one side made by the pioneers. Nearly the whole party climbed to the top. Just below the Hole in the Rock on the west side of River is the dugway which the pioneers followed in reaching the ferry.
Going up, a rock house of red sandstone is seen in a low spot, not far from a little stream. Roof burned. Well built, perhaps 12x16 feet. Road is easily seen on right hand side as we move upward. We try to reach it. It is well marked, though completely washed out in places. Soon it reaches a grade of 35% or more. While steep all the way it is only a bad dugway until 2/3 of way up when it becomes one of the world's wonders. The upper third is made over apparently inaccessible points. In places, the sheer rock or great faces of rock, down which no man could safely go, have been covered from the bottom of the gulch up with rock to form a foundation for the six feet scant roadbed. In other places it was necessary to go over the slick, steep rock. So steps have been cut in the rock to hold the wagons and animals as they came slowly over the road. These steps now make easy stairways for climbing. As we approach the top, the notch becomes so narrow that one wonders if it was really wide enough for a wagon. It really seems incredible that teams and wagons passed over the road. Pickmarks are still visible from the day of making. Blasting was resorted to, and the tops of powder cans were found. A large cast iron wheel had broken, and the remnants were lying at the top and down in the gulch. Brother Young broke off a piece of the tire for me. I picked up at the notch itself a broken horseshoe, of what date I do not know. The names of several people were carved at the notch—visitors who had come from Escalante no doubt. O. F. Hunter and C. A. Quigley had registered in 1896. A location notice was just above the notch, held down by the hub of the broken wheel.
From the top the open country towards Escalante was seen. Rather regular and without serious barrier. Towards the southeast a huge range of the usual flat topped mountains. We also picked up two pieces of broken glass of the old type. The evidence of the labor and hopes of the pioneers was on every hand. It was clear that the one possible place for many miles had been chosen, and that the low country on the other side furnished approach to the inner San Juan Country. Moreover, the clear fine water running down the Hole in the Rock valley or crotch, no doubt made the place desirable.
Coming down, about half way on a sandy ridge, I found a piece of Indian pottery, and others found chipped flint. Returning to the boats we had lunch. A roadway along the west side of the River was quite evident. Across the River a very distinct dugway up the relatively low (400 feet) mountain. From the top the road on top across the River was clearly visible. The dugway was built under difficult circumstances; the road was built on side rocks, but not so steep.
We left for the Hole in the Rock at 9:45 A.M. and returned at 12M. After lunch we left for the mouth of the San Juan River. On the left hand or west side of the River were remains of a road that seemed to follow the River to the San Juan—at distance of 7 miles. Query: Did the pioneers build such a road? Why? Did they drive cattle there to swim across River?
The water of the River all day has been very quiet—like a lake. Huge red rocks on both sides. Blind ends. Countless ravines break the rocks frequently. By 3 o'clock we were at the mouth of San Juan River.
I am very proud indeed of the Record made by our people as shown in the Hole in the Rock episode. God has been with the people, and they have left an imperishable record. The trip up to the Hole was the finest sermon that could have been preached to our company. The expressions of admiration of the people were almost extravagant. Our story in the mountains should be told in full and plain langauge.
The San Juan enters the Colorado almost at right angles. It is thick and red and discolors the Colorado more than half way across. Where they meet the San Juan is chocolate colored, and the Colorado coffee colored. The San Juan is probably 150 feet wide. Great sandbars show the behavior of the River. The San Juan must carry an immense quantity of silt, etc. "My kingdom for a bath!" As we came down the River, near the junction in the San Juan, we had a fine view of the Navajo Mts.
Sunday, Sept. 10, 1922.—Our camp is on a sandbar 20 feet below the land above. Opposite is a length of red sandstone cliff 1000 feet high. Down the river a quarter of a mile a dark red standstone cliff 1200 or more feet high rises transversely to the course of the River where we camp. To the left just below our camp, the San Juan enters the River. The Colorado turns to the right as it strikes the transverse rock below, and meanders on with the added burden. Last night the full moon flooded the deep canyon. The view revived the deep emotions that accompany the noble scenery of this wonderful trip.
The early sun gilded the mountain in front of us. For more than 2 hours the sunlight climbed down the sheer cliff across the River to our camp. The night was cold and the cool of the morning was very acceptable after the heat of yesterday.
We are probably camping on the spot occupied by J. W. Powell and his party in '69, as it is the only camping place near the junction of the San Juan and Colorado. 25
Dennis sings a sacred song. Breakfast over by 6:45 A.M. Stetson's outing boots prove too heavy. He goes into immaculate white sneakers. The Colorado mud decorates them in a few minutes. Caldwell shaves again. A. P. Davis lends me a thin blue shirt, since I have only heavy woollen ones. Prof. Thomas shaved last night. He looks young and handsome. This morning he is sewing up rifts in his clothing. Everybody happy, though Stetson declares that next time he is going to spend the preceding six months walking up every hill in Washington, and cut out cigarettes.
About 8 o'clock all but Birdseye and Stabler with help, crossed the San Juan. We attempted to scale to highest point but found the walls unscalable. This checks with Powell's statement. He tried to do the same thing and failed. 26 We find a notch in the wall, which permits a view of the San Juan and of the upper country in San Juan County. Mountain and mountain and draws between and some open country. Dry and barren, with very little vegetation. Fantastic cliffs everywhere. We rested in the notch, cut pineaple cactus, etc. told stories. Came over the shady rocky cliffs, where we can see the San Juan pouring into Colorado and also the Colorado swinging around the next turn, and also the high country above the Colorado walls. In the distance the country above the River. The high dark red cliffs that we left in Grand Gulch appear, and the Grand Canyon country begins to appear.
Lunch. Every man sings or tells stories. I sermonize by request. Five of the active ones push a large rock down the bleak rocky side. The rock at last moves, rolls and smashes into fragments. We must keep in shadows, so remain on rocky hillside until sun shifts around and chases us off. The environment is marvelous. There is a Sunday feeling in the air.
About 3 P.M. we go down to the River. The engine balks and it is about 4 o'clock by the time we pass the San Juan and make camp. The echo here is remarkable. It magnifies and is distinct. Echoes everywhere.
Monday, Sept. 11, 1922. —The surveying party finished its work late last night. A fine night, rather cold towards morning. Up by 5:30 A.M. We pack and are off. High walls on both sides of us; then breaking into lower walls, especially on east side. The water smooth as a lake. Blue heron on the shores; green patches in crevices of the high walls (about 1200 ft. high). Many little side canyons, great arches, caves, amphitheatres; coves; turns, bends; pinnacles; towers, domes; galleries; paths; reflections of wondrous delicacy, broken and softened by the ripples. As the sun rises, the light reflected from the ripples makes the water a golden yellow; where the shadows still lie, the light from the rock walls make the water a lustrous red and gold. It is altogether wonderful.
About 1 3/4 miles down from San Juan junction, an immense amphitheatre, the largest yet seen appears on the right. It is a narrow, high winding gorge, with a small stream trickling down it. Near the entrance are dense groves of scrub oak, and large patches of poison oak. As we enter, the gorge narrows, a blue rift above is the sky. Where the gorge widens a vast overhanging canopy wholly shuts out the light. A little further on the gorge narrows and water fills the passageway. We find it inadvisable to proceed further. In this twilight-lighted, moist nook, vegetation is profuse climbing up the rocky slopes and fastening itself in really impossible places as it seems to us. Man-high is a shelf carrying a most perfect bed, perhaps 10 to 15 feet long, of beautiful maidenhair fern. We name the place Maidenhair Gorge.
On the way back I am caught knee-high in soft clay or quicksand, but I catch up with the procession. As we voyage down, 1/4 mile further, on our left is the music hall, so named by Major Powell. We only see the entrance, for we decided not to explore it. Suddenly to our right a huge promontory appears above the highest walls, of the chocolate colored sandstone. At its very end reclines a huge stone lion, so we call it Lion Promontory. It is a good landmark.
The walls now begin to diminish in height. On the left we soon see Navaho Mountain, not more than 5 or 6 miles distant. Its curved outline and dark color, contrasts vividly with the colorful rectangular outlines of the canyon rocks. A quarter after ten we land just in front of Lion Promontory—where a possible damsite exists, the last in Utah, for this trip. Oak Creek site. Half a mile above us, on the west side, at the very top of the 1200 foot wall is an immense natural bridge. The segment of blue sky reveals the length of the bridge. We call it Bill Jones' Bridge, in honor of Bill Jones, our mountain goat.
The camp is on rock, just above Bridge Canyon. We go a few hundred, yards and have a swim in the pool of clear water from the tiny creek that comes down the canyon. We are now 69 miles from Lee's Ferry—51 miles from Hall's Landing— 10 miles below San Juan Canyon.
At Bridge Canyon is perhaps the best damsite yet seen, but the walls are lower than elsewhere, so that a really large storage reservoir would be impossible. The location of camp is most picturesque. A massive dark red sandstone wall in front of us; almost equally massive walls right and left of us; and a massive wall high enough to form the skyline behind us. We are hemmed in. The river comes out of a hidden bend, and goes out through a similar one. Two high rocky castles look down upon us from the northwest. The light roar of the rapids just below us makes music for us. Willows and other green growths cling to the higher land, above high water, on the side of our camp. It is a delightful spot.
Tuesday, Sept. 12, 1922.—We break camp early. We leave camp about 7:50 A.M. and walk up Aztec Canyon. Aztec Canyon opens on the River. Bridge Canyon is the left hand fork in which Rainbow Bridge is located. Where Aztec Canyon opens on the River it is very narrow and very inconsequential, and might easily be overlooked. In fact Kolb Brothers at first overlooked it; now a sign across the river reads, Bridge Canyon, J. G. Wimmer, and date of 1921. Where Aztec Canyon forks, there is cut in die rock "E. C. Kolb."
A small stream runs down the whole canyon. At first the canyon is very narrow and the cliffs high. Everything is shade. We walk in red sandstone most of the time. Beautiful pools of colored water are found all along the canyon. The sandstone is tipped up a little to form steps. In one place a parallel series of steps are formed very regularly with water running down between. Very beautiful. We name it Venus' Stairs. The canyon widens and narrows, winds and turns, is sunshiny and shady—filled with water or only a seep, with groves of willows and brush, surmounted by pinnacles and temples, or by sheer walls. In itself it is a place of unusual interest.
At length we get our first glimpse of the Bridge. It is a beautiful red sandstone arch, rising 300 feet from its foundation and 277 feet across. Below is the gulch of the stream. It is a sublime sights—unique of its kind—-the greatest natural bridge known. It seems the rock projected up the canyon. The stream beat against it and was turned around it, where it beat against it again. Thus the first hole was made. Then the chasm sank. The Bridge is a marvelous commentary on time. What cannot time do. And! What wonders hath God wrought! I spent an hour dreaming in the shadow of the Bridge.
Lunch. Then Brother Young went out scouting, and found an active squirrel which he followed, and found the lost Registry book. Bridge at top—3946 [feet].
July 1910—8 with guides—John Wetherill of Oljato, Utah, each time.
Aug. 14, 1909— Byron Cummings Malcolm Cummings Don Beaureguard Neil Judd Steve Young John Wetherill—Guide also six others — 1 from Washington, 5 from San Juan County and 3 guides. Feb. 1911—3 — Wetherill, Kayenta, Ariz. Oct. 1912-5 - & Wetheril. Aug. 1913—
Theodore Roosevelt with Archie — Quentin & Nick 3 guides. — Wetherill.
May 19, 1913.
Zane Grey and party of 2 and 3 guides. Aug. 24, 1916—3 and 2 guides. May 18, 1918—4 and 2 guides July 19, 1919 Byron Cummings 15 and 2 guides. May 1917 — 3 and 4 guides with family. Oct. 27, 1921—Trimbles party, 5 incl. help, first boat party. Nov. 4, 1921—J. G. Wimmer, U.S.G.S. Oct. 7, 1921—E. C. LaRue and Ed. Page Aug. 16, 1922—4 and 3 guides. Aug. 12, 1922—Boy Scout party headed by Robt A. Patterson, Ariz. School Hartford, Conn. 12 boys Aug. 5, 1922—2 and 2 guides June 8, 1922—5 and 2 guides. July 5, 1922 4 and 2 guides, also Earl H. Morris of Am. Mus. Nat. Hist.
Apr. 20, 1922, Zane Grey and party of 6—2 guides. May 10, 1922—2 and 2 guides. Nov. 21 - U.S.G. Party - 4 Nov. 19, 1921 - 2 Oct. 18, 1921 — 8 U.S.G.S. party. Sept. 4, 1921 — 5 Aug. 20, 1918 — 3 July 29, 1921 3 and 1 guide. July 10, 1921 — Bernheiner says "A sense of home-sickness brought me here on a second visit to the arch and the wonders of the journey — 2 and 4 guides Earl H. Morris says "Here hath the Master wrought with consummate skill."
July 4, 1921 — Party of 6 from Kayenta and Tuba City,
Arizona. Sept. 26, 1920 — 5 — "and there were giants in those days". Sept. 11, 1920 — 2 and 3 guides. Aug. 3, 1920 — Byron Cummings — 8 and 2 guides. July 5, 6— 4 and 3 guides. "A wonderful work of your God. Remain and worship him in all his glory."
June 7, 1920 — May Jacobs — guides. June 8, 1920 — 3 from Arizona. May 23, 1920 — 1 and 3 guides.
187 altogether — not counting guides, but counting some twice. 36 women — outside of Cummings party and this one, very few Utah people.
Copies from Register found at Rainbow Bridge, only the covers were found in the bay provided near the left hand end of the arch (looking up). Brother Young went on a hunt and, following a squirrel, found it in the squirrel's nest, under a big boulder. The book is about 9 inches long, and about 3 inches wide, bound the long way. The covers were in the proper places.
"Near the Escalante River 8 1/2 miles from the Colorado River and 3/4 miles up "40 Mile Creek" on the south side of the Escalante is a natural bridge 75 feet high, with a span of 100 feet. This bridge is across the creek and forms a perfect bridge and not an arch." (Signed by W. R. Chenowith, U. S. Geol. Survey, Nov. 21, 1921.)
Came down the canyon gently, as the late afternoon sun was throwing most of the canyon in deep shadow. The mouth of Bridge Canyon proper is very narrow and very striking because of the narrow long slit that it forms. It is quite narrow everywhere, but widens out to quarter of a city block here and there. On two shelves were cliff dwelling remains. Returned to camp about 6:30. Supper. Rest, then a swim in the pool. Long talk with Caldwell. In bed about 10 P.M.
The reflections should be recorded. In River, pools and small streams, the highly colored rocks are reflected with a softening and a tempering beauty. In Aztec Canyon notable, with its hundred pools, the succession of reflections form a marvelous delight to eye and brain.
The simple beauty of the Bridge approaches perfection. It stands free from all nearby rocks. It spans the whole canyon. Through it from one side may be seen the Navaho Mt. It is perfectly symmetrical, or so appears and of uniform size. It is a perfect bit of the Master's work.
Wednesday, Sept. 13, 1922.—Up at 5:20. Cloudy for the first time since leaving Hall's Landing, but only small drifting clouds, which are all gone by 7 o'clock, when the uniform blue dome again dominates the sky. The first rays of the sun make the red wall above us a living deep red. Every one of the party looks on and is thrilled. We are off early, leaving on our boats before 7:30 A.M. Just below Aztec Canyon is the narrowest part of the canyon—possibly 50 feet wide—and some miles farther down is the longest straight stretch of the canyon. We are 69 miles from Lee's Crossing and 28 miles from the Crossing of the Fathers. About one mile below Aztec Canyon on west side is a dugway trail from top to River. In places steps are hewn in the rock, and in others holes are bored in the rock and sticks set up to form support for surface of path. Probably used for path for horses to get down to water.
About 15 miles below Aztec Canyon we see distinct horse trail leading probably to Lee's Ferry. Rock Creek to east of us. Scenery becoming more variegated, especially on east side. Most sheer walls now on west side. Vegetation clings to rock in every possible place. Glens at every turn of River, willows, but no cottonwoods. Do beavers cut them? We land three times on sandbars. Our lunch place is a mile or two below Last Chance Creek.
A mile or two below our lunch camp is the Crossing of the Fathers. There is some dispute as to the exact place. 35 (Look up Escalante Journal). On the west side is a broad bench sloping down to the River, and 1/8 miles lower is a cliff in the rock which slopes up to the table land. It is very probable that the latter is the place of the Crossing by Escalante. On the east side for a half a mile the country slopes down to the River with several places of ascent. Opposite the cliff above mentioned is a rock spit in the River, which probably made fording possible at the late date of the Fathers' Crossing.
It was with very serious thoughts that I passed this historic spot, and reviewed the hardships of the long trail of Escalante and Dominguez. The beginning of things always cause emotions to arise.
We pass Cottonwood Creek from the west, and several of many side canyons during the day which have not yet been named. About 6:07 we land at the mouth of Warm Creek. A huge loving cup guards the entrance and the creek itself comes stealing into the river behind the great base of the cup. Why not call it Loving Cup Creek. 36 It seems proper that a loving cup should stand practically on the border between Utah and Arizona. Pure water runs down from the highlands. It is said that timber was brought down this canyon and used for the building of a steamer which is now at Lee's Ferry.
During the day the country has opened up chiefly on the east side. Great buttes and towers and castles and peaks, etc., etc., etc., rise above the canyon wall, near and in the distance. A very interesting prospect. The red of the rocks is darker than above. As the low sun strikes the rocks they look a clear yellow. We run on sandbars a dozen times. Our engine stops at 2 o'clock. We row until 5 o'clock, then the engine decides to start again. All well and happy but tired of canned goods. When we land we find that the cooks have plenty of fresh meat.
Thursday, Sept. 14, 1922.—No rain during night. We have had perfect weather so far. In dawn of the morning the great walls that surround were a tender rosy red. Shall I ever see anything so charmingly appealing again. The clear sky, the firmament of stars and the full moon, have made our nights wondrous in their beauty.
This morning about 7:30 we went up Warm Creek. A narrow, winding, red walled canyon, with a creek of beautiful clear water coming down. In places, the majestic walls stand so high as to darken the canyon. We climbed out to the top. Open country—perhaps several thousand acres of good land. The high rocks characteristic of the Grand Canyon, projecting here and there, north and east. The Navaho mountain and several landmarks. A most remarkable panorama, but entirely too vast for a kodak or a pen. After descending the canyon again, lunch, Caldwell and I gossipped for an hour or two; then bathed our feet, then slowly walking to camp, arrived there about 5 p.m. just in time for supper. Wrote and gossiped.
My bed is so placed that I look down the River. High red walls on both sides until a slight bend in the River partly obscures one side. Right across at the end is an immense red cliff and on top the faint print of a flattopped mountain. It is a most attractive view. My bed stands on the driest, cleanest sand.
Friday, Sept. 15, 1922. —Our trip to the top yesterday was to look over the possible spillway into the Wahweaps. It seems very feasible that any of the damsites in this neighborhood could spill over at this point into the Wahweaps, and thus reduce the cost of building.
The mouth of Warm Creek is well marked by the loving cup and a hole in the rock. We leave at 7:30. Soon we pass Navaho Creek on the east; then stop on a sandbar for a short time to examine a damsite in a narrow part of the canyon. Walls high and straight on both sides. River about 500 feet wide. Flow sluggish. Just below Warm Creek, the red walls slope backwards and large talus heaps. This however changes in two or three miles and the walls are again high and straight. The far prospect is cut off.
We stop at two damsites and make surveys. It seems that neither is equal to Lee's Ferry Site. About 5 p.m. we reach Wahweap Creek. It is marked by a high sentinel rock noted by Powell, the only one of its kind in Glen Canyon. Sentinel Rock stands 400 feet high—a massive and imposing monument. The stream comes out as in most of the tributaries at a slight angle with the River—almost parallel. The water is bluish as if it carries alkali in solution and very fine clay in suspension. We are now between 17 and 18 miles from Lee's Ferry. The river today has varied in width from 500—700 feet. Our camp for the night at mouth of Wahweap is on a smooth sandbar, and entirely surmounded by high red walls to form a small enclosed valley with the river running strong by the bar.
Saturday, Sept. 16, 1922. —Up at dawn. Breakfast. Broke camp. We are more nearly closed in by unbroken high walls than at any other camp that we have had and in any other part of the River.
As the light came this morning through the canyon bending from the east, the western wall became a rosy red; the north a dull but decided red, the east black and polished and the south lost in the semi-darkness. The same relation held for two hours as the light increased without any direct sunshine entering our little wall bound valley.
Our sandbar is of two levels, and a third level of rocky talus above the second. Most of us slept on the second level.
Prof. Thomas showed me last night a photo of his wife and children. A wholesome family. He is one of the City directors of Pasadena.
The captain says we will camp at Lee's Ferry tonight and will remain there until we go to Flagstaff with the truck.
Looking back this has been one of the great trips of my life. The scenery has been so vast, varied and awe inspiring. The solitude has been so complete. The beautiful courses of canyons and glens have been so full of beauty. The slow flowing river has been so thought promoting. The clear sky and the starlit and moonlit nights have brought us so near to the meaning of things "as they are". The whole result has been one of continuous, wholesome elevating and especially soul stimulating enjoyment. The "Jimson" weed has been abundant. The flowers are open at night, large white and delicate. They close as the sun rises.
We stop a few moments at the upper Ferry site. Walls over 1000 feet high. We stop at the Ferry Dam Site. Soon after we land the pirates come. They have hoisted a red bandana in front; a white flag, skull and crossbones, at rear boat; all the pirates had handkerchiefs tied around their heads. Three ducks were hung to the front flagstaff. As they passed our camp they sang viciously. "Yoho and a bottle of rum." One of the pirates in the rear boat has a knife between his teeth. As they land below our boat they sing with blood-thirsty voices—Yoho and a bottle of rum. Then a regular piratical college yell.
Bill is wounded, but the pirates forsake him to dress his own wounds. Down from the hills comes Davis' sonorous voice
We cross the river to damsite upper Lee's Ferry—9 1/2 miles above Ferry. LaRue and Davis go up the hill side after rock samples. Caldwell, abetted and held back by Freeman, pushes big chunks of silt into River and splashes us in rear boat, especially Dennis and Tom. A fight ensues, those on the bank almost defeated when Col. Birdseye appeared and reinforced the enemy. Birdseye caught in the back. Caldwell in front, both like drowned rats. Tom hides from Birdseye. LaRue and Davis appear and truce is declared.
We camp for lunch at spring on east side of River about 8 1/2 miles above Lee's Ferry. Note that upper side near curve in River where tunnel may be dug.
During the last day the Canyon walls have become higher. Today they rise 100 to 1400 feet above the river. They are very imposing, and the canyon is just somewhat terrible, when both sides are sheer and rising 1200 feet or more above the water.
About 4 1/2 miles above Lee's Ferry we come to the lower damsite. The canyon is straight for 2 miles. The damsite is half way down this straight stretch. The rock looks solid on both sides. Great vertical fissures are observed. They do not seem to lie as horizontal as in most parts of the canyon. This looks by all odds the most promising site that we have seen. 450 feet at water; 1400 feet at top; 100 feet dam and 3500 feet through mountain from river to river.
There is an unusual solemnity about the whole canyon. It grows on you as you remain in the canyon. Another mile or two and the mountains change into peaks and rugged outlines. In a deep canyon the sand has been blown in until die effect is that of a glacier. Then beyond, rise the Vermillion cliffs and the range of sheer cliffs of the Pariah. A hydrographic station comes into view; then, as we round a corner, Lee's Ferry comes into view. We pass under the cable, turn to the west and camp just below the Ferry proper.
A log cabin stands just above the Ferry. Seems to be very old. Half a mile down along a good driveway are 3 or 4 stonehouses with necessary outbuildings also of rock. These were built in part during gold seeking days. Another mile down the River and across the Pariah is the old John D. Lee Ranch. On one side of the main Kanab road which runs through the Ranch, are vineyards and fruit trees. On the other alfalfa, etc. Big cottonwoods around the yard, planted by John D. Lee. Lee's log cabin still stands behind and to one side of the two story frame house which is the main house of the ranch. A large, shingled barn. All water obtained from a ditch from the Pariah. Some apple trees behind the house some 10-15 rods.
The ranch was occupied by Price Johnson, who with his brother and their families spend the winter there. The Johnsons are sons of Warren M. Johnson who in obedience to a call came to the Ferry in 1875 and lived there 20 years. Price Johnson is about 30 years of age, very dark; quiet and gentlemanly. He and his brother ran a sawmill on the Buckskin Mt. which did not pay. So now are running the Lee Ranch which really is owned by a California livestock company. Ranch house built by Warren M. Johnson from lumber hauled from Long Valley. In a little cemetery lie four children, who died within two weeks of diptheria —gathered from dust from an old travelers chest. Warren M. Johnson after being released from Lee's Ferry fell from hay load at Fredonia and broke his back. Died 6 years later.
On the road from the Ferry to the Pariah, lie iron tubes, pipes, joints, taps, etc. In the River a few rods from the Ferry lies a steamboat, half submerged in the sand with steam boiler, two smokestacks, etc., exposed. Another steam engine plant, partly dismantled, lies further on. Wrecks of human ambition lie scattered all about. It is an interesting commentary on how the world is conquered.
The surroundings in Lee's Ferry, while barren, are very colorful and entrancing.
Young Price Johnson gave us grapes, watermelon, mushmellon, apples and almond nuts. It was a feast especially after two weeks of canned goods and bacon.
Sunday, Sept. 17, 1922. —Up before dawn. The morning coloring of the cliffs was extraordinarily beautiful. The vermillion glow illuminated the valley. Then the changes came one after another. The gamut thrilled our souls.
At 6:50 A.M. Caldwell, Young and I with the others following about 15 minutes later, began to climb up the mule trail about 1/8 mile above the Ferry. It was die steepest yet the best trail of its kind tried by me. We climbed to the top, about 1400 feet above the Ferry in 1 hour and 35 minutes.
A panorama of astounding proportions lay on all sides of us. To the west and south were the windings of the marble canyon, which looked like deep cuts in a flat table land. Far to the south and west loomed Buckskin mountain. Just below us to the west was the deep canyon of the Pariah. North and west was the great table lands of the High Plateaus—rising above each other in three great divisions the escarpments of which were plainly seen. To the north and east we could see the windings of the Colorado, along which we had come. It seems a bit awful; and we had to shake ourselves and say, we have been down in it, and it's very pleasant there. Far beyond to the north and east were many fantastic remains of the high table lands. The Navaho mountain, now covered with a purple mist still lifted its symmetrical rounded outline out of the plateau. Just below us, lay vaults like the last few turns of the Colorado through which we came. We stand on the edge and peer down. The water, silvery at this distance, is flowing quietly; the sandbars look small, the glens dots of green. The excellent site of the dam is distinctly visible. The colors are not in the chasm, but they riot above and beyond, for wherever the eye ranges, it sees red and yellow, and brown and gray and grayish green in a complexity of combinations. Above all a blue sky with a wealth of great white clouds.
The scene is one of brilliant immensity. This is the Lord's Day, and we worship Him this day through his works.
Stetson approaches the edge and is photographed. Then we move up to the highest point, named by us Panorama Point, where the view is even larger. There we are photographed as a party, since some of us may leave for Tuba City today.
Caldwell and I come down the trail in 45 minutes. We pack our belongings; have a glass of lemonade; and I complete the record in the Journal up to 12 M.
We go to the Ranch where Brother Price M. Johnson has been working all morning to get tires in shape to take us out. At 4 p.m. he is ready. We pile in, and in 3/4 mile we have a blowout. We decide to remain with the crowd. Price W. Johnson and I have a long serious talk. Life is a curious succession of unexpected occurrences. When I get back to camp at dusk, the truck has arrived. Sprinkles during early morning. Wakes the camp.
Roger C. Rice, District Engineer U.S.G.S. for Arizona, c/o University, Tucson, Arizona, came on with party from Flagstaff. Mr. and Mrs. Staples and 3 children drove in from Hurricane at Ranch. Originally from Texas. Two T. B. Children. Traveled for 2 years. Have learned to like Mormon faith. He is a great talker. Now on way to Mesa.
Monday, Sept. 18, 1922.—Everybody up early. Packing. Things ferried across and loaded on truck. Wimmer's machine pushed off Ferry after much difficulty—about 10:40 A.M.
Dinner at the Cockrofts Residence. Hydrographer of the Edison Co., at Lee's Ferry. (J. G. Cockroft)
Left Lee's Ferry about 3 p.m. Rowed across river where 2 autos and one truck were waiting. The truck had been loaded from the Ferry. Dugway wide enough but rolling and rough.
Could not be much worse. In half or three quarters of an hour we approach more level country. Echo cliffs on right [left] or east. Great vermillion cliffs on left [right] or west. Marble Canyon, in a forbidding depth runs against vermillion cliffs. A fierce rapid just below Lee's Ferry. From now on rolling desert country. The Navaho Reservation. Good grass but water scarce. We follow the Echo cliffs while the western cliffs disappear in the distance.
Soon small bands of sheep, the crude huts of the Indians. "Hogans". Attempts at farming, a group of braves on horseback. Some women on the crest of a hill weaving carpets. They were so placed as to get shade from the cedars which now cover the country. The weaving apparatus is suspended between two cedars. Two Indian children are in the road with two little donkeys. The painted desert looks attractive in the late afternoon. The presence of the Indians give the scene an air of mystery and romance. The Indians are still uncivilized.
We reach the first trading post 35-40 miles from the Ferry (Cedar Ridge) and put up for the night. Rugs, jewelry, etc., at the store. Bitter cold night. Contrast with the warm nights of the last two weeks.
Tuesday, Sept. 19, 1922. —Up before daylight. Everybody shivering. Breakfast. Rolled my bed for the last time on this trip. Some of the party dickered for blankets and pawned jewelry. Few of us escape.
Stetson, Thomas and Caldwell and I go on yellow taxi car to Tuba City, etc. We drive through beautiful cedar covered country but in a short time the desert appears again. We pass Indians and their "Hogans". At the next trading place where we arrive by 7:30 A.M. we stop to visit the store. We photograph two squaws and their two pappooses. From now on Indian life on every hand.
Custom seems to be to take Indian jewelry in pawn for groceries, etc., for a certain length of time. If unredeemed, sold at low price.
We arrive at Tuba City at 10:15. It lies on top of table land. First settled by Mormons, who had only squatters rights.
Government bought them out. Some old Mormon houses still standing. Chiefly plastered houses. Now Indian school. We saw the children out for recess. Dusky, happy boys. Few girls. Call on Supt, Mr. Sharp.
Had lunch at Tuba City. Drove to Moencopi Village where a group of Hopi Indians live—about 300. Met the school teacher there. Spent an hour visiting with the Hopi, going through their houses etc. Very industrious, provident people. Live in houses of rock or adobe. Flat steps up sides to roofs and several stories. Corn, meat, vegetables, melons, etc., peppers, laying everywhere to be dried. Great piles of dried food in houses for winter. Fine fields well cultivated. Curious beginnings of civilization in the houses—phonographs, framed pictures and mirrors. Many modern utensils, including spring beds here and there. The people seemed very intelligent—much more so than the Navaho. Babies sucking long rolls of light gray material called peeku. Finely ground corn, mixed with water and dried in extremely thin layers on rock in sunshine. Observed two or three hunchbacks—Due to inbreeding?
Left Moencopi village about 12:45. Drove to Cameron on Little Colorado. Fine iron suspension bridge. The river dry and without any water.
The Painted Desert through which we have passed is a vast treeless, soilless, promise-less desert. One of the worst in the West. We followed until we cross the Little Colorado, the Echo Cliffs. Station at Little Colorado bridge known as Cameron. We stop there to look over rugs and jewelry.
Drove into foothills of San Francisco Mts. Beautiful country. Reached Flagstaff among pines and cedars at 6 P.M. The Glen Canyon party had reached its destination. Now off for home or further work. God be thanked for His mercies.
In retrospect I quite agree with Major Powell, that it is useless to describe with words or even with pictures the wonders, of surpassing magnitude and beauty, that fill the country through which we have passed on this trip.
A good auto road from Richfield to Hall's Crossing; proper boatservice on the Colorado from Hall's Crossing to Lee's Ferry; a good auto road from Lee's Ferry to Jacob's Lake, and a scenic round trip would be provided easy and short, that would surpass anything of scenic interest in the world. Fish Lake, Capitol Gorge, Grand Gulch, Canopy Gorge, High Plateaus, Glen Canyon, innumerable side trips, Maidenhair Gorge, Rainbow Natural Bridge, Lee's Ferry, Kaibab Plateau, the President's Forest, the Grand Canyon, Zion Canyon, Cedar Breaks, and Bryce Canyon—what more could we expect in two weeks.
GLEN CANYON
EXPEDITION
PERSONNEL OF PARTY
E. C. LaRue Hydraulic Engineer U. S. Geological Survey
H. W. Dennis Construction Engineer Southern California Edison Company
Herman Stabler Chief Engineer Land Classification Board, U. S. Geological Survey
Col. C. H. Birdseye Chief Engineer Topographic Branch, U. S. Geological Survey
A. P. Davis Director U. S. Reclamation Service
Chas. P. Kayler Engineer Union Pacific Railroad
John A. Widtsoe
R. E. Caldwell Utah State Engineer
Clarence C. Stetson Asst. to Secy. Herbert Hoover
Franklin Thomas Prof. Civil Engineering Cal. Inst. Technology
Robert D. Young Pres. Sevier Stake
BOATMEN AND HELPERS
Thomas G. Wimmer Andy Wimmer, his son Lewis R. Freeman L. C. Ramsauer W. H. Ramsauer Wm. W. Jones
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