In recording our various mishaps and upsets in these pages, it may seem to the reader as if I have given undue prominence to the part I took in them. If so, it has not been from choice, but because they happened in that way. No doubt a great deal of my trouble was due to carelessness. After I had learned to row my boat fairly well I sometimes took chances that proved to be anything but advisable, depending a good deal on luck, and luck was not always with me. My brother was less hasty in making his decisions, and was more careful in his movements, with the result that his boat had few marks of any kind, and he had been more fortunate than I with the rapids.

It is my duty to record another adventure at this point, in which we all three shared, each in a different manner. This time I am going to give my brother's record of the happenings that overtook us about four o'clock in the afternoon of December the 24th, less than three hours after we left our friends at the Bass Trail with "best wishes for a Merry Christmas," and had received instructions from John "to keep our feet dry"

My brother's account follows:

     "The fourth rapid below the Bass Trail was bad, but after 
     looking it over we decided it could be run. We had taken 
     chances in rapids that looked worse and came through 
     unharmed; if we were successful here, it would be over in a 
     few minutes, and forgotten an hour later. So we each made 
     the attempt."

     "Lauzon had gone near the lower end of the rapid, taking the 
     left shore, for a sixty-foot wall with a sloping bench on 
     top rose sheer out of the water on the right. The only shore 
     on the right was close to the head of the rapid, a small 
     deposit or bank of earth and rock. The inner gorge here was 
     about nine hundred feet deep."

     "Ellsworth went first, taking the left-hand side. I picked 
     out a course on the right as being the least dangerous; but 
     I was scarcely started when I found myself on a nest of 
     jagged rocks, with violent water all about me, and with 
     other rocks, some of them submerged, below me. I climbed out 
     on the rocks and held the boat."

     "If the others could land below the rapid and climb back, 
     they might get a rope to me and pull me off the rocks far 
     enough to give me a new start, but they could not pull the 
     boat in to shore through the rough water. A person thinks 
     quickly under such circumstances, I had it all figured out 
     as soon as I was on the rocks. The greatest trouble would be 
     to hold the boat if she broke loose."

     "Then I saw that the Defiance was in trouble. She caught 
     in a reverse whirl in the very middle of the pounding rapid, 
     bouncing back and forth like a great rubber ball. Finally 
     she filled with the splashing water, sank low, and the water 
     pouring over the rock caught the edge of the twelve-hundred 
     pound boat and turned her over as if she were a toy; my 
     brother was holding to the gunwale when she turned. Still 
     she was held in the whirl, jumping as violently as ever, 
     then turned upright again and was forced out. Ellsworth had 
     disappeared, but came up nearly a hundred feet below, 
     struggling to keep on top but going down with every breaking 
     wave. When the quieter water was reached, he did not seem to 
     have strength enough to swim out, but floated, motionless, 
     in a standing position, his head kept up by the 
     life-preservers. The next rapid was not over fifty yards 
     below. If he was to be saved it must be done instantly."

     "I pried the boat loose, jumped in as she swung clear, and 
     pulled with all my might, headed toward the centre of the 
     river. I was almost clear when I was drawn over a dip, bow 
     first, and struck a glancing blow against another rock I had 
     never seen. There was a crash, and the boards broke like 
     egg-shells. It was all done in a few moments. The Edith 
     was a wreck, I did not know how bad. My brother had 
     disappeared. Lauzon was frantically climbing over some large 
     boulders trying to reach the head of the next rapid, where 
     the boat was held in an eddy. My boat was not upset, but the 
     waves were surging through a great hole in her side. She was 
     drawn into an eddy, close to the base of the wall, where I 
     could tie up and climb out. It seemed folly to try the lower 
     end with my filled boat. Climbing to the top of the rock, I 
     could see half a mile down the canyon, but my brother was 
     nowhere to be seen and I had no idea that he had escaped. I 
     was returning to my wrecked boat when Bert waved his arms, 
     and pointed to the head of the rapid. Going back once more, 
     I saw him directly below me at the base of the sheer rock, 
     in an opening where the wall receded. He had crawled out 
     twenty feet above the next rapid. Returning to my wrecked 
     boat, I was soon beside him. He was exhausted with his 
     struggle in the icy waves; his outer garments were frozen. I 
     soon procured blankets from my bed, removed the wet clothes, 
     and wrapped him up. Lauzon, true to our expectations of what 
     he would do when the test came, swam out and rescued the 
     Defiance before she was carried over the next rapid. He 
     was inexperienced at the oars and had less than two hours 
     practice after he had joined us. It was a tense moment when 
     he started across, above the rapid. But he made it! Landing 
     with a big grin, he exclaimed, 'Young fellows, business is 
     picking up!' then added, 'And we're losing lots of good 

     "These experiences were our Christmas presents that year. 
     They were not done up in small packages."

     "We repaired the boat on Christmas day. Three smashed side 
     ribs were replaced with mesquite, which we found growing on 
     the walls. The hole was patched with boards from the loose 
     bottom. This was painted; canvas was tacked over that and 
     painted also, and a sheet of tin or galvanized iron went 
     over it all. This completed the repair and the Edith was 
     as seaworthy as before."

     This is Emery's account of the "Christmas Rapid."

I will add that the freezing temperature of the water and the struggle for breath in the breaking waves left me exhausted and at the mercy of the river. An eddy drew me out of the centre of the stream when I had given up all hope of any escape from the next rapid. I had seen my brother on the rock below the head of the rapid and knew there was no hope from him. As I was being drawn back into the current, close to the end of the sheer wall on the right, my feet struck bottom on some debris washed down from the cliff. I made three efforts to stand but fell each time, and finally crawled out on my hands and knees. I had the peculiar sensation of seeing a rain-storm descending before my eyes, although I knew no such thing existed; every fibre in my body ached and continued to do so for days afterward; and the moment I would close my eyes to sleep I would see mountainous waves about me and would feel myself being whirled head over heels just as I was in that rapid; but this rapid, strange to say, while exceedingly rough and swift, did not contain any waves that we would have considered large up to this time. In other words, it depended on the circumstances whether it was bad or not. When standing on the shore, picking a channel, it appeared to be a moderately bad rapid, in which a person, aided with life-preservers, should have little difficulty in keeping on top, at least half the time. After my battle, in which, as far as personal effort went, I had lost, and after my providential escape, that one rapid appeared to be the largest of the entire series.

It is difficult to describe the rapids with the foot-rule standard, and give an idea of their power. One unfamiliar with "white water" usually associates a twelve-foot descent or a ten-foot wave with a similar wave on the ocean. There is no comparison. The waters of the ocean rise and fall, the waves travel, the water itself, except in breakers, is comparatively still. In bad rapids the water is whirled through at the rate of ten or twelve miles an hour, in some cases much swifter; the surface is broken by streams shooting up from every submerged rock; the weight of the river is behind it, and the waves, instead of tumbling forward, quite as often break upstream. Such waves, less than six feet high, are often dangers to be shunned. After being overturned in them we learned their tremendous power, a power we would never have associated with any water, before such an experience, short of a waterfall.

There is a certain amount of danger in the canyons, - plenty of it. Still, in most cases, with care and forethought, much of it can be avoided. We think we are safe in saying that half of the parties who have attempted a passage through these canyons have met with fatalities. Most of these have occurred in Cataract Canyon, not because it is any worse than other sections, - certainly no worse than the Grand Canyon, - but because it is easily entered from the quiet, alluring water of the lower Green River. Without a doubt each successful expedition is responsible in a way for others' attempts. In nearly every instance the unfortunate ones have underestimated the danger, and have attempted the passage with inadequate boats, such as Smith had for instance, undecked and without air chambers. Both of these are imperative for safety.

We had the benefit of the experiences of others. In addition, our years of work in the canyons had robbed them of their imaginary dangers, and - while we trust that we are not entirely without imagination - much of their weirdness and glamour with which they are inseparable to the idealist and the impressionist. Each of these upsets could have been avoided by a portage had we desired to make one, but success in other rapids made us a little reckless and ready to take a chance.

Beyond getting our flour wet on the outside, we suffered very little loss to our cargo. We placed the two flour sacks beside the fires each evening, until the wet flour dried to a crust. We continued to use out of the centre of the sacks as though nothing had ever happened.

Bert and I each had a little cough the next morning, but it disappeared by noon. Beyond that, we suffered no great inconvenience from our enforced bath. Sleeping in the open, with plenty of healthful exercise, kept us physically fit.

The cold air and the cold water did not seem to bother the others, but I could not get comfortably warm during this cold snap. Added to this, it took me some time to get over my scare, and I could see all kinds of danger, in rapids, where Emery could see none. I insisted on untying the photographic cases from the boats, and carrying them around a number of rapids before we ran them. It is hardly necessary to say that no upset occurred in these rapids.

Then came a cold day, with a raw wind sweeping up the river. A coating of ice covered the boats and the oars. We had turned directly to the north along the base of Powell's plateau, and were nearing the end of a second granite gorge, with violent rapids and jagged rocks. Emery made the remark that he had not had a swim for some time. In a half-hour we came to a rapid with two twelve-foot waves in the centre of the stream, with a projecting point above that would have to be passed, before we could pull out of the swift-running centre. Emery got his swim there. I was just behind and was more fortunate. I never saw anything more quickly done. Before the boat was fully overturned he swung an oar, so that it stuck out at an angle from the side of the boat, and used the oar for a step; an instant later he had cut the oar loose, and steered toward the shore. Bert threw him a rope from the shore, and he was pulled in. He was wearing a thin rubber coat fitting tightly about his wrists, tied about his neck, and belted at the waist. This protected him so thoroughly that he was only wet from the waist down.

If we were a little inclined to be proud of our record above Bright Angel we had forgotten all about it by this time. We were scarcely more than sixty miles from home and had experienced three upsets and a smashed boat, all in one week.

Just at the end of the second granite section we made our first portage since leaving Bright Angel. Bert and I worked on the boats, while Emery cooked the evening meal.

Hot rice soup, flavoured with a can of prepared meat, was easily and quickly prepared, and formed one of the usual dishes at these meals. It contained a lot of nutriment, and the rice took up but little space in the boats. Sometimes the meat was omitted, and raisins were substituted. Prepared baked beans were a staple dish, but were not in our supply on this last part of the trip. We often made "hot cakes" twice a day; an excuse for eating a great deal of butter and honey, or syrup. None of these things were luxuries. They were the best foodstuff we could carry. We seemed to crave sweet stuff, and used quantities of sugar. We could carry eggs, when packed in sawdust, without trouble but did not carry many. We had little meat; what we had was bacon, and prepared meats of the lunch variety. Cheese was our main substitute for meat. It was easily carried and kept well. Dried peaches or apricots were on the bill for nearly every meal, each day's allowance being cooked the evening before. We tried several condensed or emergency foods, but discarded them all but one, for various reasons. The exception was Erbeswurst, a patent dried soup preparation. Other prepared soups were carried also. I must not forget the morning cereal. It was Cream of Wheat, easily prepared; eaten - not served, perhaps devoured would be a better word - with sugar and condensed cream, as long as it lasted, then with butter. Any remainder from breakfast was fried for other meals. Each evening, we would make some baking-powder biscuit in a frying-pan. A Dutch oven is better, but had too much weight. The appellation for such bread is "flapjack" or "dough-god." When I did the baking they were fearfully and wonderfully made. Cocoa, which was nourishing, often took the place of coffee. In fact our systems craved just what was most needed to build up muscle and create heat. We found it was useless to try to catch fish after the weather became cold. The fish would not bite.

On the upper end of our journey we carried no tobacco, as it happened that Jimmy as well as ourselves were not tobacco users. There were no alcoholic stimulants. When Bert joined us, a small flask, for medicinal purposes only, was taken along. The whiskey was scarcely touched at this time. Bert enjoyed a pipe after his meals, but continued to keep good-natured even when his tobacco got wet, so tobacco was not absolutely necessary to him.

Uninteresting and unromantic these things may be, but they were most important to us. We were only sorry the supply was not larger. While we never stinted ourselves, or cut the allowance of food, the amount was growing smaller every day, and it was not a question any more whether we would go out or not, to get provisions, to "rustle" as Bert called it, but where we would go out. We might go up Cataract Creek or Ha Va Su Creek, as it is sometimes called. We had been to the mouth of this canyon on foot, so there would be no danger of missing it. The Ha Va Supai Indians, about two hundred in number, lived in this lateral canyon about seven or eight miles from the river. An agent and a farmer lived with them, and might be able to sell us some provisions; if not, it would be fifty miles back to our home. The trail was much more direct than the river. The great drawback to this course was the fact that Ha Va Su Canyon, sheer-walled, deep, and narrow, contained a number of waterfalls, one of them about 175 feet high. The precipice over which it fell was nothing but a mineral deposit from the water, building higher every year. Formerly this was impassable, until some miners, after enlarging a sloping cave, had cut a winding stairway in it, which allowed a descent to be made to the bottom of the fall. A recent storm had remodelled all the falls in Cataract Creek Canyon, cutting out the travertine in some places, piling it up in others. A great mass of cottonwood trees were also mixed with the debris. The village, too, had been washed away and was then being rebuilt. We had been told that the tunnel was filled up, and as far as we knew no one had been to the river since the flood.

The other outlet was Diamond Creek Canyon, much farther down the river. We would decide when we got to Ha Va Su just what we would do.

Tapeets Creek, one mile below our camp, - a stream which has masqueraded under the title of Thunder River, and about which there has been considerable speculation, - proved to be a stream a little smaller than Bright Angel Creek, flowing through a narrow slot in the rocks, and did not fall sheer into the river, as has been reported. Perhaps a small cascade known as Surprise Falls which we passed the next day has been confused with Tapeets Creek. This stream corkscrews down through a narrow crevice and falls about two hundred feet, close to the river's edge. We are told that the upper end of Tapeets Creek is similar to this, but on a much larger scale.

Just opposite this fall a big mountain-sheep jumped from under an overhanging ledge close to the water, and stared curiously at us, as though he wondered what strange things those were coming down with the current. It is doubtful if he ever saw a human being before. This sight sent us scrambling in our cases for cameras and firearms; and it was not the game laws, but a rusted trigger on the six-shooter instead, that saved the sheep. He finally took alarm and scampered away over the rocks, and we had no mutton stew that night.

We had one night of heavy rain, and morning revealed a little snow within three hundred feet of the river, while a heavy white blanket covered the upper cliffs. It continued to snow on top, and rained on us nearly all this day. Emery took this opportunity to get the drop of moisture out of the lens, and put the camera in such shape that we could proceed with our picture making. A short run was made after this work was completed.

The camp we were just leaving was about three miles above Kanab Canyon. The granite was behind us, disappearing with a steep descent much as it had emerged at the Hance Trail. There was also a small deposit of algonkian. This too had been passed, and we were back in the limestone and sandstone walls similar to the lower end of Marble Canyon. While the formations were the same, the canyon differed. The layers were thicker, the red sandstone and the marble walls were equally sheer; there was no plateau between. What plateau this canyon contained lay on top of the red sandstone. Few peaks rose above this. The canyon had completed its northern run and was turning back again to the west-southwest with a great sweep or circle. Less than an hour's work brought us to Kanab Canyon.