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J. W. Powell - Canyons of the Colorado
the place for several weeks. Our fears are soon allayed, for we find the cache undisturbed. Our
chronometer wheels have not been taken for hair ornaments, our barometer tubes for beads, or the sextant
thrown into the river as "bad medicine," as had been predicted. Taking up our cache, we pass
down to the foot of the Uinta Mountains and in a cold storm go into camp.
The river is running to the south; the mountains have an easterly and westerly trend directly athwart its
course, yet it glides on in a quiet way as if it thought a mountain range no formidable obstruction. It
enters the range by a flaring, brilliant red gorge, that may be seen from the north a score of miles away.
The great mass of the mountain ridge through which the gorge is cut is composed of bright vermilion
rocks; but they are surmounted by broad bands of mottled buff and gray, and these bands come down
with a gentle curve to the water's edge on the nearer slope of the mountain.
This is the head of the first of the canyons we are about to explore - an introductory one to a series made
by the river through this range. We name it Flaming Gorge. The cliffs, or walls, we find on measurement
to be about 1,200 feet high.
May 27. - To-day it rains, and we employ the time in repairing one of our barometers, which was
broken on the way from New York. A new tube has to be put in; that is, a long glass tube has to be filled
with mercury, four or five inches at a time, and each installment boiled over a spirit lamp. It is a delicate
task to do this without breaking the glass; but we have success, and are ready to measure mountains once
more.
May 28. - To-day we go to the summit of the cliff on the left and take observations for altitude,
and are variously employed in topographic and geologic work.
May 29. - This morning Bradley and I cross the river and climb more than a thousand feet to a
point where we can see the stream sweeping in a long, beautiful curve through the gorge below. Turning
and looking to the west, we can see the valley of Henry's Fork, through which, for many miles, the little
river flows in a tortuous channel. Cottonwood groves are planted here and there along its course, and
between them are stretches of grass land. The narrow mountain valley is inclosed on either side by
sloping walls of naked rock of many bright colors. To the south of the valley are the Uintas, and the
peaks of the Wasatch Mountains can be faintly seen in the far west. To the north, desert plains, dotted
here and there with curiously carved hills and buttes, extend to the limit of vision.
For many years this valley has been the home of a number of mountaineers, who were originally hunters
and trappers, living with the Indians. Most of them have one or more Indian wives. They no longer roam
with the nomadic tribes in pursuit of buckskin or beaver, but have accumulated herds of cattle and
horses, and consider themselves quite well to do. Some of them have built cabins; others still live in
lodges. John Baker is one of the most famous of these men, and from our point of view we can see his
lodge, three or four miles up the river.
The distance from Green River City to Flaming Gorge is 62 miles. The river runs between bluffs, in
some places standing so close to each other that no flood plain is seen. At such a point the river might
properly be said to run through a canyon. The bad lands on either side are interrupted here and there by
patches of Artemisia, or sage brush. Where there is a flood plain along either side of the river, a
few cottonwoods may be seen.
CHAPTER VI. FROM FLAMING GORGE TO THE GATE OF LODORE.
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