|
J. W. Powell - Canyons of the Colorado
be saved. Some of the clothing and bedding taken out of the boats is found, also a few tin cups, basins,
and a camp kettle; and this is all the mess-kit we now have. Yet we do just as well as ever.
June 17. - We run down to the mouth of Yampa River. This has been a chapter of disasters and
toils, notwithstanding which the Canyon of Lodore was not devoid of scenic interest, even beyond the
power of pen to tell. The roar of its waters was heard unceasingly from the hour we entered it until we
landed here. No quiet in all that time. But its walls and cliffs, its peaks and crags, its amphitheaters and
alcoves, tell a story of beauty and grandeur that I hear yet - and shall hear.
The Canyon of Lodore is 20 3/4 miles in length. It starts abruptly at what we have called the Gate of
Lodore, with walls nearly 2,000 feet high, and they are never lower than this until we reach Alcove
Brook, about three miles above the foot. They are very irregular, standing in vertical or overhanging
cliffs in places, terraced in others, or receding in steep slopes, and are broken by many side gulches and
canyons. The highest point on the wall is at Dunn's Cliff, near Triplet Falls, where the rocks reach an
altitude of 2,700 feet, but the peaks a little way back rise nearly 1,000 feet higher. Yellow pines, nut
pines, firs, and cedars stand in extensive forests on the Uinta Mountains, and, clinging to the rocks and
growing in the crevices, come down the walls to the water's edge from Flaming Gorge to Echo Park. The
red sandstones are lichened over; delicate mosses grow in the moist places, and ferns festoon the walls.
CHAPTER VIII. FROM ECHO PARK TO THE MOUTH OF THE UINTA RIVER.
The Yampa enters the Green from the east. At a point opposite its mouth the Green runs to the south, at
the foot of a rock about 700 feet high and a mile long, and then turns sharply around the rock to the right
and runs back in a northerly course parallel to its former direction for nearly another mile, thus having
the opposite sides of a long, narrow rock for its bank. The tongue of rock so formed is a peninsular
precipice with a mural escarpment along its whole course on the east, but broken down at places on the
west.
On the east side of the river, opposite the rock and below the Yampa, there is a little park, just large
enough for a farm, already fenced with high walls of gray homogeneous sandstone. There are three river
entrances to this park: one down the Yampa; one below, by coming up the Green; and another down the
Green. There is also a land entrance down a lateral canyon. Elsewhere the park is inaccessible. Through
this land entrance by the side canyon there is a trail made by Indian hunters, who come down here in
certain seasons to kill mountain sheep. Great hollow domes are seen in the eastern side of the rock,
against which the Green sweeps; willows border the river; clumps of box-elder are seen; and a few
cottonwoods stand at the lower end. Standing opposite the rock, our words are repeated with startling
clearness, but in a soft, mellow tone, that transforms them into magical music. Scarcely can one believe it
is the echo of his own voice. In some places two or three echoes come back; in other places they repeat
themselves, passing back and forth across the river between this rock and the eastern wall. To hear these
repeated echoes well, we must shout. Some of the party aver that ten or twelve repetitions can be heard.
To me, they seem rapidly to diminish and merge by multiplicity, like telegraph poles on an outstretched
plain. I have observed the same phenomenon once before in the cliffs near Long's Peak, and am pleased
to meet with it again.
During the afternoon Bradley and I climb some cliffs to the north. Mountain sheep are seen above us, and
they stand out on the rocks and eye us intently, not seeming to move. Their color is much like that of the
gray sandstone beneath them, and, immovable as they are, they appear like carved forms. Now a fine ram
beats the rock with his fore foot, and, wheeling around, they all bound away together, leaping over rocks
|
