Canyon walls, still higher and higher, as we go down through strata. There is a steep talus at the foot of the cliff, and in some places, the upper parts of the walls are terraced.
About ten o'clock we come to a place where the river occupies the whole channel, and the walls are vertical from the water's edge. We see a fall below, and row up against the cliff. There is a little shelf, or rather a horizontal crevice, a few feet above our heads. One man stands on the deck of the boat, another climbs on his shoulders, and then into the crevice. Then we pass him a line, and two or three others, with myself, follow. We pass along the crevice until it becomes a shelf, as the upper part, or roof, is broken off. On this we walk for a short distance, slowly climbing all the way, until we reach a point where the shelf is broken off, and we can pass no farther. Then we go back to the boat, cross the river and get some logs that have lodged in the rocks, bring them to our side, pass them along the crevice and shelf, and bridge over the broken place. We go on to a point over the falls, but do not obtain a satisfactory view. Then we climb out to the top of the wall, and walk along to find a point below the fall, from which it can be seen. From this point it seems possible to let down our boats with lines to the head of the rapids and then make a portage. So we return, row down by the side of the cliff as far as we dare, and fasten one of the boats to a rock. Then we let down another boat to the end of its line beyond the first, and the third boat to the end of its line below the second, which brings it to the head of the fall, and under an overhanging rock. Then the upper boat, in obedience to a signal, lets go. We pull in the line and catch the nearest boat as it comes, and then the last. Then we make a portage, and go on.
--John Wesley Powell journal entry for August 6, 1869
With some feeling of anxiety, we enter a new canyon this morning. We have learned to closely observe the texture of the rock. In softer strata, we have a quiet river; in harder, we find rapids and falls. Below us are the limestones and hard sandstones, which we found in Catarack Canyon. This bodes toil and danger. Besides the texture of the rocks, there is another condition which affects the character of the channel, as we have found by experience.
Where the strata are horizontal,
the river is often quiet; but,
even though it may be very swift in places, no great obstacles are found. where the rocks incline in the direction traveled, the river usually sweeps with great velocity, but we still have few rapids and falls. But where the rocks dip upstream, and the river cuts obliquely across the upturned formations, harder strata above and softer below, we have rapids and falls. Into hard rocks, and into rocks dipping up stream, we pass this morning, and start on a long, rocky, mad rapid. On the left there is a vertical rock, and down by this cliff and around to the left we glide, just tossed enough by the waves to appreciate the rate at which we are traveling.
The canyon is narrow, with vertical walls, which gradually grow higher.
More rapids and falls are found. We come to one with a drop of sixteen feet, around which we make a portage, and then stop for dinner.
Then a run of two miles, and another portage, long and difficult;
then we camp for the night, on a bank of sand.
--John Wesley Powell journal entry for August 5, 1869
Today the walls grow higher,
and the canyon much narrower. Monuments are still seen on either side; beautiful glens,
and alcoves, and gorges,
and side canyons are yet found.
After dinner, we find the river making a sudden turn to the northwest, and the whole character of the canyon changed.
The walls are many hundreds
of feet higher, and the rocks
are chiefly variegated shales of beautiful colors---creamy orange above, then bright vermillion, and below, purple and chocolate beds, with green and yellow sands.
We run four miles through this,
wheel again to the west,
and pass into a portion of the canyon where the characteristics are more like those above the bend.
At night we stop at the mouth of a creek coming in from the right.
Here the canyon terminates abruptly in a line of cliffs, which stretches from either side across the river.
--John Wesley Powell journal entry for August 4, 1869
this is the place
where I made my best mistakes
this is the place
even angels don't understand
I've seen the disappointment
in her face
and the collection
of engagement rings
on her right hand
she sits alone
apart from the crowd
in a white dress she wears
like a question mark
friends speak of her fondly
enemies just think out loud
you think you're man enough
to please her
and you're fool enough to start
but you're not going to do a thing
to our little angel
there's nothing you're thinking tonight that tomorrow won't change
now the cabaret is frozen
and the laughter comes in cans
the lonely hearts club clientele
don't know what to do
with their hands
you think that you'll
be sweet to her
but everybody knows
that you're the
marshmallow valentine
that got stuck on her clothes
but you're not going
to do a thing
to our little angel
there's nothing
you're thinking tonight
that tomorrow won't change
so you mix your drinks and words
you make bad jokes
you make bad time
the floors are there to walk over
the walls are there to climb
you swear that you'll never
go back again once you're inside
you're never the bridegroom
she's always the bride
and you're not going
to do a thing
to our little angel
there's nothing
you're thinking tonight
that tomorrow won't change
you'll come in a sweetheart
and you'll go out a stranger
well you try to love her
but she's so contrary
like a chainsaw running
through a dictionary
so get your mind
off the sweet behind
of our little angel
you're not going to do a thing
you're not going to do a thing
you're not going to do a thing
to our little angel
Telemann: Concerto for Mandolin, Hammered Dulcimer and Harp
Bach: Oboe Concerto
We still keep our camp
in Music Temple today.
I wish to obtain a view of the adjacent country, if possible; so, early in the morning, the men take me across the river, and I pass along by the foot of the cliff half a mile upstream, and then climb first up broken ledges, then two or three hundred yards up a smooth, sloping rock, and then pass out on a narrow ledge.
Still, I find I have not attained an altitude from which I can overlook the region outside of the canyon; and so I descend into a little gulch, and climb again to a higher ridge, all the way along naked sandstone, and at last
I reach a point of commanding view. I can look several miles up the San Juan, and a long distance up the Colorado; and away to the northwest
I can see the Henry Mountains; to the northeast, the Sierra La Sal; to the southeast, unknown mountains; and to the southwest, the meandering of the canyon. Then I return to the bank of the river.
We sleep again in Music Temple.
--John Wesley Powell journal entry for August 2, 1869
Grateful Dead: Dark Star~~Morning Dew...Long Beach, CA. 12/15/72
Sing in me, Muse,
and through me
tell the story
of that man
skilled in all ways
of contending,
the wanderer,
harried for years on end,
after he plundered
the stronghold
on the proud height of Troy.
He saw the townlands
and learned the minds
of many distant men,
and weathered many
bitter nights and days
in his deep heart at sea,
while he fought only
to save his life,
to bring his shipmates home.
--Homer The Odyssey
12/26/79...(2nd set and encores)
We drop down two miles this morning, and go into camp again.
There is a low willow-covered strip of land along the walls on the east.
Across this we walk, to explore an alcove which we see from the river.
On entering, we find a little grove of box-elder and cottonwood trees;
and, turning to the right, we find ourselves in a vast chamber,
carved out of the rock. At the upper end
there is a clear, deep pool of water, bordered with verdure.
Standing by the side of this, we can see the grove at the entrance.
The chamber is more than two hundred feet high, five hundred feet long,
and two hundred feet wide. Through the ceiling, and on through the rocks
for a thousand feet above, there is a narrow winding skylight;
and this is all carved out by a little stream, which only runs
during the few showers that fall now and then in this arid country.
The waters from the bare rocks of the canyon,
gathering rapidly into a small channel, have eroded a deep side canyon,
through which they run, until they fall into the smaller end of this chamber.
The rock at the ceiling is hard, the rock below, very soft and friable;
and having cut through the upper harder portion down into the lower and softer, the stream has washed out these friable sandstones;
and thus the chamber has been excavated.
Here we bring our camp.
When Old Shady
sings us a song at night,
we are pleased to find
that this hollow
in the rock is filled
with sweet sounds.
It was doubtless made
for an academy of music
by its storm-born architect;
so we name it Music Temple.
--John Wesley Powell journal entry for August 1, 1869
We have a cool, pleasant ride today through this part of the canyon. The walls are steadily increasing in altitude, the curves are gentle, and often the river sweeps in an arc of vertical wall, smooth and unbroken; and then by a curve that is variegated by royal arches, mossy alcoves, deep beautiful glens and painted grottoes.
--John Wesley Powell journal entry for July 31, 1869
We make good progress today,
as the water, though smooth,
is swift. Sometimes the canyon walls are vertical to the top. Sometimes, they are vertical below, and have a mound-shaped slope above it. In other places, the slope with its mounds,
comes down to the water's edge.
Still proceeding on our way,
we find the orange sandstone
is cut in two by a group of firm, calcareous strata, and the lower bed is underlaid by soft, gypsiferous shales. Sometimes, the upper homogenous bed is a smooth, vertical wall, but usually it is carved with mounds, with gently meandering valley lines.
The lower bed, yielding to gravity, as the softer shales below work out into the river, breaks into angular surfaces, often having a columnar appearance. One could almost imagine that the walls had
been carved with a purpose,
to represent giant
architectual forms.
In the deep recesses of the walls, we find springs,
with mosses and ferns
on the moistened sandstone.
--John Wesley Powell journal entry for July 30, 1869
Marcia Griffiths: Dreamland / Dub in Dreamland
Bunny Wailer: Dreamland / Dreamland Dub
WESTWARD VIEW FROM OUTSIDE HORN CANYON (2)
OUTSIDE HANCE CANYON LOOKING EAST (2)
POIN'DEXTER PANORAMA
Anouar Brahem Quartet: The Astounding Eyes of Rita
We enter a canyon today with low, red walls. A short distance below its head we discover the ruins of an old building on the left wall. There is a narrow plain between the river and the left wall just here, and on the brink of a rock two hundred feet high stands an old house. Its walls are of stone, laid in mortar, with much regularity. It was probably built three stories high; the lower story is yet almost intact; the second is much broken down, and scarcely anything is left of the third. Great quantities of flint chips are found on the rocks nearby, and many arrowheads, some perfect, others broken.
Fragments of pottery are strewn about in great profusion. On the face of the cliff, under the building, and along down the river for two or three hundred yards, there are many etchings. Two hours are given to the examination of these interesting ruins, then we run down fifteen miles farther, and discover another group. The principal building was situated on the summit of a hill. A part of the walls are standing, to the height of eight or ten feet, and the mortar yet remains in some places. The house was in the shape of an L, with five rooms on the angle, and two in each extension. In the space in the angle there is a deep excavation.
From what we know of the people in the province of Tusayan, who are, doubtless, of the same race as the former inhabitants of these ruins, we conclude that this was a kiva,
or underground chamber, in which their religious ceremonies were performed.
We leave these ruins, and run down two or three miles, and go into camp about mid-afternoon. And now I climb the wall and go into the back country for a walk.
The sandstone through which the canyon is cut is red and homogenous, being the same as that through which Labyrinth Canyon runs. The smooth, naked rock stretches out on either side of the river for many miles, but curiously carved mounds and cones
are scattered everywhere, and deep holes are worn out. Many of these pockets are filled with water. In one of these holes, or wells, twenty feet deep, I find a tree growing. The excavation is so narrow that I can step from its brink to a limb on the tree, and descend to the bottom of the well down a growing ladder. Many of these pockets are potholes, being found in the course of little rills, or brooks, that run during the rains which occasionally fall in this region; and often a few harder rocks, which evidently assisted in their excavation, can be found in their bottoms. Others, which are shallower, are not so easily explained. Perhaps they are found where softer spots
existed in the sandstone, places that yielded more readily to atmospheric degradation, and where the loose sands were carried away by the winds.
Just before sundown, I attempt to climb a rounded eminence, from which, I hope to obtain a good outlook on the surrounding country. It is formed of smooth mounds, piled one above another. Up these I climb, winding here and there, to find a practicable way, until near the summit they become too steep for me to proceed. I search about, a few minutes, for a more easy way, when I am surprised at finding a stairway, evidently cut into the rock by hands.
At one place, where there is a
vertical wall of ten or twelve feet, I find an old, ricketty ladder. It may be that this was a watchtower of that ancient people whose home we have found in ruins. On many of
the tributaries of the Colorado
I have heretofore examined
their deserted dwellings. Those that show evidences of being built during the latter part of their occupation of the country are, usually, placed on the most inaccesible cliffs. Sometimes, the mouths of caves have been walled across, and there are many other evidences to show their anxiety to secure defensible positions. Probably the nomadic tribes were sweeping down upon them, and they resorted to these cliffs and canyons for safety. It is not unreasonable to suppose that this orange mound was used as a watchtower. Here I stand, where these now lost people stood centuries ago, and look over this strange country.
I gaze off to great mountains in the northwest which are slowly covered by the night until they are lost, and then I return to camp. It is no easy task to find my way down the wall in the darkness, and I clamber about until it is nearly midnight before I arrive.
--John Wesley Powell journal entry for July 29, 1869
