Fourth in a Series: Powell's First Expedition on the Colorado

CAVALCADE JOHN WESLEY POWELL'S FIRST EXPEDITION ON THE COLORADO RIVER

Within the thousand miles from Green River Station, Wyoming, to what is now Lake Mead in Arizona, the course of the Green and Colorado rivers 120 years ago was terra incognita-an unknown land. The challenge of explor ing it magnetized the courageous one-armed veteran of Shiloh, Major John Wesley Powell.

In May, 1869, four specially designed riverboats were trans ported to Green River Station where Powell, a former geology professor, and nine companions launched their expedition. On Monday, May 24, they entered the Green River. In less than a fortnight, one of the boats with its precious supplies swept against the rocks at Disaster Falls and was lost. The men survived and added still another page of critical information to their records.

By early August, the party had passed the junction where the Green joins the Colorado in southeastern Utah and raced on to what was to become Lees Ferry, in northern Arizona. The river now fell more rapidly, they observed, while the canyon walls abruptly rose higher. In his journal Powell referred to this area, which would one day be called the Grand Canyon, as "the great unknown."

More difficult passages awaited them, but none filled the men with greater trepidation than First Granite Gorge, which they penetrated on Saturday, August 14, the 82nd day of their riverjourney. Suddenly the canyon walls were soaring an incredible 6,000 feet above their passageway, which had diminished to a narrow ribbon of tormented water. Their situation, critical to begin with, now seemed to grow worse moment by moment as they heard a booming roar reverberating off the granite walls. It could mean only one thing: a terrific fall in the river. Frightened, the men scoured the mist-darkened channel for a means of escape. But there was no bank, no footing anywhere for a portage. Then it was too late. With a sickening lurch, they crashed headlong into a maelstrom of churning white froth and surging water.

journey. Suddenly the canyon walls were soaring an incredible 6,000 feet above their passageway, which had diminished to a narrow ribbon of tormented water. Their situation, critical to begin with, now seemed to grow worse moment by moment as they heard a booming roar reverberating off the granite walls. It could mean only one thing: a terrific fall in the river. Frightened, the men scoured the mist-darkened channel for a means of escape. But there was no bank, no footing anywhere for a portage. Then it was too late. With a sickening lurch, they crashed headlong into a maelstrom of churning white froth and surging water.

Quickly the open boats filled with the cold water that cascaded over them as they hurled through the dark tunnel. Now their only hope was that the watertight storage compartments fore and aft would hold and keep the boats afloat.

Then, as suddenly as the plummeting had begun, it was over. In a third of a mile they had dropped 80 feet; still gasping, they were once again safe, floating in relatively quiet water.

But too many such hair-raising episodes were beginning to tell on the men. They were gaunt and exhausted. Repeated cap sizings, the recurring perils of the rapids, and the loss of rations had taken the heart out of several of them. On Saturday, August 28, at a point later named Separation Rapids, three of the group chose to take their chances overland. It proved a disastrous choice. Months afterward it was discovered the three had been killed, presumably by Indians.

Ironically, Separation Rapids was the last of the journey's ordeals. Within another day, they were in calm water; the treacherous canyon was behind them.

Near the end of the month of August, with rations remaining for only a few days, Powell's weary party drifted toward journey's end at the confluence of the Colorado and Virgin rivers.

No cheering crowds waited. No banners. No bands. No speeches for the hearty boatmen who had faced the unknown with bravery and grim determination. But what they did see at last probably meant much more to these men starving for a glimpse of civilization: on a far shore, waving, an old man and his sons sat, calmly and contentedly fishing. -B.A.

Editor's note: Major Powell later made two more trips of explora tion down the Colorado River, and later still created a Bureau of Geology, a Bureau of Ethnology, and helped lay the ground for the Bureau of Reclamation.