ODYSSEY ON THE GREEN AND COLORADO RIVERS

ARIZONA HIGHWAYS CLASSICS

no longer felt like lying in the circle in comradeship with the Apaches. During the long rides through the day, his thoughts dwelled on only two things what he was going to do with his riches and the task of imprinting on his mind, so that he could never forget them, the landmarks he had seen around the canyon of gold.

In the 1850s, it was not easy to find white men who were willing to go prospecting into Indian country. But after many months, Dr. Thorne finally got his expedition together. His confidence, his driving will, and his vivid description of what he had seen, convinced people and fired their enthusiasm against their better judgment.

As soon as his resignation from the Army was accepted, Dr. Thorne set out with three prospectors to find the butte shaped like a sombrero. As they traveled westward, they were on the alert for trouble with the Indians, but not once were they molested. When they got into the heart of Apache country, they relaxed their vigilance, even though they could see smoke signals all around them. Nothing seemed important but the location of the sombrero butte.

At last the day came when Dr. Thorne shouted, "There it is!" They spurred on their horses, and the doctor galloped ahead looking for the canyon of gold. He found many canyons, but every time he rode into one, he saw that the washes held only valueless sand. As the days passed, and the search became more desperate, Dr. Thorne saw other buttes resembling sombreros and still more canyons that were empty of treasure. His companions became sullen and apprehensive, and they began to quarrel and grumble, and accuse Dr. Thorne of lying to them. They soon talked about the smoke signals to the exclusion of everything else, and they insisted on returning home. Dr. Thorne pleaded with them to be patient, but it was useless. The prospectors turned back, and the doctor was forced to follow them.

Dr. Thorne did not give up, and he succeeded in persuading other prospectors to accompany him on his second trip. But that expedition was a worse failure than the first - the disappointment and bitterness were greater than before, and the prospectors reported that every mountain Dr. Thorne saw resembled a sombrero.

In spite of the two failures, Dr. Thorne still felt he could find his canyon of gold. But he could no longer persuade anyone else to believe in it. When he wanted to tell the story, people either laughed at him or jeered and called him an impostor.

Dr. Thorne might have forgotten his lost gold mine and gone to some new place to start his life over. But he was a proud man, and the contempt and disbelief he met on every side ate into his soul. The need to justify himself became the driving force of his life. And as the years went by without giving him an opportunity to prove that he had told the truth, he became an old and embittered man.

In his loneliness, he would look down at his hands, which were now stiff and gnarled, and say to himself: "But I am not an impostor. I did see it. My horse walked on a pavement of gold nuggets."

Odyssey on the Colorado River

When a man has an itch for the greater part of his life, there comes a time when scratching is inevitable. My particular itch can be classed as "riveritis." The river causing the itch was the Colorado.

Having made up my mind to put this desire behind me, I was confronted with the question: How am I going to do this?

Through a friend, I learned that Norman Nevills of Mexican Hat, Utah, was planning a trip for the summer of 1940. I dispatched a letter to Nevills and two weeks later got his reply. There were eight others who wanted to make the trip, and by combining our resources, he wrote, the trip could be brought within the limits of all our pocketbooks.

On a hot July day, I arrived at Green River, Utah, ready for the journey.

Nine of us set out that afternoon on the Green River from the small Utah town bearing the river's name. We were: Dr. Hugh Cutler, D.W. Deason, Charles Larabee, Del Reid, Norman Nevills, Doris Nevills, Mildred Baker, John Southworth, and myself.

Our three boats, made by Nevills, were 16 feet long and made of half-inch plywood.

Our first camp was by the side of a geyser six miles into our trip. The geyser was created by a company drilling for oil. They hit a gas pocket. The seepage from the river into the pocket causes an occasional eruption, creating a hundred-foot-high fountain.

Leaving camp the next morning, we continued on the Green. Evidence of habitation was everywhere... until we plunged into Labyrinth Canyon. After this we saw only cattle trails, as we were fast entering a section of unrivaled scenery. We loved it. One of the most interesting places we passed was Bow Knot Bend. There the river describes two loops in the form of a bow knot. At the small place in the knot, all that divides the river is a high sandstone wall an eighth of a mile thick and rising about 800 feet above the river. Cruising on, we stopped and entered a beautiful side canyon by the terrible name of Hell Roaring Canyon. It was there the "mystery man" of the river inscribed his name. Denis Julien passed this way around 1836. What became of him is not known. After spending four days in Labyrinth Canyon, we came to the junction of the Green and Colorado at the mouth of Stillwater Canyon, which we passed on our last day on the Green. During our 120-mile trip from Green River, Utah, to the junction, we had nothing but the calmest water. Now, though, things changed. We could hear the ominous roar of the first rapid at the head of Cataract Canyon, sounding like 10 Niagaras. Soon our lead boat shoved off. I was lying down on the rear deck. Nevills had the oars,

ODYSSEY ON THE COLORADO RIVER

of unrivaled scenery. We loved it. One of the most interesting places we passed was Bow Knot Bend. There the river describes two loops in the form of a bow knot. At the small place in the knot, all that divides the river is a high sandstone wall an eighth of a mile thick and rising about 800 feet above the river. Cruising on, we stopped and entered a beautiful side canyon by the terrible name of Hell Roaring Canyon. It was there the "mystery man" of the river inscribed his name. Denis Julien passed this way around 1836. What became of him is not known. After spending four days in Labyrinth Canyon, we came to the junction of the Green and Colorado at the mouth of Stillwater Canyon, which we passed on our last day on the Green. During our 120-mile trip from Green River, Utah, to the junction, we had nothing but the calmest water. Now, though, things changed. We could hear the ominous roar of the first rapid at the head of Cataract Canyon, sounding like 10 Niagaras. Soon our lead boat shoved off. I was lying down on the rear deck. Nevills had the oars, We had gone on this way for several days, skipping over rapids, picking up a tinge of disregard for the vaunted power of the river . . . until Mile 24 Rapid.

and his wife, Doris, sat in the front of the cockpit. Nevills headed for a hole in the rapid, and we went through. So far under water did my end of the boat sink, I swear, when we emerged there was gravel in my hair from the bottom of the river. Cataract Canyon is short, only about 50 miles in length, but every mile had several rapids in it, and rare was a quiet stretch. This canyon was the first of the really deep canyons. At some points, 2,500 feet deep. We had gone on this way for several days, skipping over rapids, picking up a tinge of disregard for the vaunted power of the river . . . until Mile 24 Rapid. The first two boats to navigate this rapid came through with flying colors, but the third got on the wrong side of the tongue leading into the rapid, and boat No. 3 was suddenly firmly wedged between two boulders in the center of the maelstrom. To rescue it, we rowed out into the back eddy at the bottom of the rapid, and then jumping from rock to rock, we finally arrived at the lower of the two big rocks that held the boat fast. We finally dislodged it. But our joy was shortlived. As the boat went downstream, it struck a rock and turned upside down. When John Southworth and Dr. Cutler rescued it and pulled it to shore, they found all the duffle and bedding in the forward hatch wet, water having poured through a gaping hole torn in the deck. Adding insult to injury for those whose bedding got wet, it rained all night. After that, two delightful days were spent in Dark Canyon, and then we proceeded down to the end of Cataract. On passing Mile Crag Bend, which marks the end of Cataract Canyon, we went immediately into 10-mile-long Narrow Canyon. There the rapids disappeared, and quiet water came again. Narrow Canyon ends where the Fremont River joins the Colorado.

Canyon follows canyon on this route, and as we left Narrow Canyon, we entered Glen Canyon, down which we traveled until we reached Lees Ferry Our first cache of food and mail awaited us at Hite's Crossing, six miles down from the head of Glen Canyon. In the 1880s, this place was settled and used as a crossing or ferry site. It became a small town with a post office, and then, in 1926, people just moved away, and the town folded. Our first river camp in Glen Canyon was under the 1,200foot heights of Tapestry Wall, where huge quantities of sand blew into our ears, mouths, and eyes all night long.

A few miles below the mouth of the Escalante River, we stopped at Hole in the Rock Canyon. It was exceptionally short, steep, and narrow. But it had a romantic history.

In 1879 John Taylor and 250 men, women, and children departed from Cedar City, Utah, for the valley of the San Juan in 82 wagons with nearly a thousand head of cattle. Five weeks had been planned for the entire journey, but at the end of that time, the party found itself on the plateau above Hole in the Rock. The river they must cross lay a thousand feet below them, a mile away, down the steep canyon whose entrance wasn't wide enough to allow the passage of the wagons.

All pitched in to widen and build a road down this narrow crack in the Earth's surface during the bitter cold of December and January of 1880. Late in January, the first wagon rumbled down while 20 men held it back, the animals in front acting as brakes. By the close of the day, all 20 wagons were down and ferried over the Colorado.

A few miles downriver, while still in Glen Canyon, we passed the mouth of the San Juan. It is

Glen Canyon has always been synonymous in my mind with the unusual, the beautiful, and the historic.

one of the largest of all the tributary streams to meld with the Colorado. Much of the red silt from which the river gets its name comes from the San Juan.

Approaching Narrow Canyon, we wondered how it got its name because it looked quite wide. After tying the boats at its mouth and going back into it, we discovered it to be but 30 or 40 feet wide. The walls rose above us 800 feet, and on the floor of the canyon flowed a small clear stream, which added itself to the waters of the Colorado. If there is a hallowed spot On the river, it is a cavern just across the river from Narrow Canyon. John Wesley Powell, the one-armed adventurer who first explored the length of the Colorado in 1869, on hearing the wonderful quality that this tremendous cavern imparted to the voices of his men singing around the evening fire, named it Music Temple. On the walls are carved the names of the members of Powell's expedition.

Evening of that eventful day found us at the mouth of Forbidden Canyon, under the blue heights of Navajo Mountain.

We had all looked forward to arriving there because we were near Rainbow Bridge. We eventually spent four days at the bridge, and four nights of sleeping on real mattresses.

Glen Canyon has always been synonymous in my mind with the unusual, the beautiful, and the historic. Just a short distance below Kane Creek, Padre Escalante and his group crossed the river in 1776, returning from an unsuccessful attempt to locate a shortcut to the missions in California.

tance below Kane Creek, Padre Escalante and his group crossed the river in 1776, returning from an unsuccessful attempt to locate a shortcut to the missions in California.

Late that same afternoon, someone announced that we would soon be in Arizona. I had to smile, for I had suspected it for some time. The sky was getting a very familiar blue tint to it, the clouds were getting whiter, the birds sang a little more sweetly, and the air smelled familiarly exhilarating. No one could have felt the happiness that was mine.

As we crossed into Arizona, Charles Larabee and I carved into the red sandstone of Warm Creek Canyon a welcome to all who might follow. Inscribed into the wall is "Arizona Welcomes You." To the right, we drew the state line and on the opposite side, the word "Utah."

The next morning, we were on our way again. Just before noon, we came out of Glen Canyon, after having been in it for 160 miles, and arrived at a rather broad valley at the junction of the Paria River and the Colorado. It was there that John Lee came in 1872, a fugitive From justice. It was believed he was the instigator of the heinous Mountain Meadows Massacre of 1857. The ferry he started at the junction served until 1927. Looking downriver, we could see the towering heights of the Vermilion Cliffs, the Echo Cliffs, and Marble Canyon. As soon as we were into the gorge, we