American Idyll

yes, the river knows

Thursday, August 30, 2012

We Have Been Reported Lost Long Ago



We run through two or three short, low canyons today, and on emerging from one, we discover a band of Indians in the valley below. They see us, and scamper away in most eager haste, to hide among the rocks. Although we land, and call for them to return, not an Indian can be seen.
Two or three miles farther down, in turning a short bend in the river, we come upon another camp. So near are we before they can see us that I can shout to them, and being able to speak a little of their language, I tell them we are friends; but they all flee to the rocks, except a man, a woman, and two children.
We land, and talk with them.
They are without lodges, but have built little shelters of boughs, under which they wallow in the sand. The man is dressed in a hat; the woman in a string of beads only. At first they are evidently much terrified; but when I talk to them in their own language, and tell them we are friends, and inquire after people in the Mormon towns, they are soon reassured, and beg for tobacco. Of this precious article we have none to spare.
Sumner looks around in the boat for something to give them, and finds
a little piece of colored soap, which they receive as a valuable present, rather as a thing of beauty than as a useful commodity, however.
They are either unwilling or unable to tell us anything about the Indians or white people, and so we push off, for we must lose no time.
We camp at noon under the right bank. And now, as we push out, we are in great expectancy, for we hope every minute to discover the mouth of the Rio Virgen.
Soon one of the men exclaims: Yonder's an Indian in the river! Looking for a few minutes, we certainly do see two or three persons. The men bend to their oars, and pull toward them. Approaching, we see that there are three white men and an Indian hauling a seine, and then we discover that it is just at the mouth of the long sought river.
As we come near, the men seem far less surprised to see us than we do to see them. They evidently know who we are, and, on talking with them, they tell us that we have been reported lost long ago, and that some weeks before, a messenger had been sent from Salt Lake City, with instructions for them to watch for any fragments or relics of our party that might drift down the stream.
--John Wesley Powell *
journal entry for August 30, 1869

SUMNER BUTTE AND ZOROASTER TEMPLE
LITTLE COLORADO RIVER
BUFFY SAINTE-MARIE:
MY COUNTRY 'TIS OF THY PEOPLE YOU'RE DYING
HORN CREEK RAPID WITH TOWER OF SET
THE RAPE-UBLICAN NOMINEE


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