I Still Might Run In Silence

Glen Campbell: Gentle On My Mind

And now the scenery is on a grand scale. The walls of the canyon, 2500 feet high, are of marble of many beautiful colors, and often polished below by the waves, or far up the sides, where showers have washed the sands over the cliffs.
At one place I have a walk, for more than a mile, on a marble pavement, all polished and fretted with strange devices, and embossed in a thousand fantastic patterns. Through a cleft in the wall the sun shines on this pavement, which gleams in iridescent beauty.
I pass up into the cleft. It is very narrow, with a succession of pools standing at higher levels as I go back. The water in these pools

is clear and cool, coming down from springs. Then I return to the pavement, which is but a terrace or bench, over which the river runs at its flood, but left bare at present. Along the pavement, in many places, are basins of clear water, in strange contrast to the red mud of the river. At length
I come to the end of this marble terrace, and take again to the boat.
Riding down a short distance,
a beautiful view is presented.
The river turns sharply to the east, and seems enclosed by a wall, set with a million brilliant gems.
What can it mean?
Every eye is engaged, everyone wonders. On coming nearer, we find fountains bursting

from the rock, high overhead, and the spray in the sunshine forms the gems which bedeck the wall. The rocks below the fountain
are covered with mosses,
and ferns, and many beautiful
flowering plants.
We pass through many side canyons today that are dark, gloomy passages back into the heart of the rocks that form the plateau through which this
canyon is cut.
It rains again this afternoon. Scarcely do the first drops fall when little rills run down the walls. As the storm comes on the little rills increase in size until great streams are formed. Although the walls of the canyon are chiefly limestone, the adjacent

country is of red sandstone; and now the waters, loaded with these sands, come down in rivers of bright red mud, leaping over the walls in innumerable cascades.
It is plain now how these walls are polished in many places.
At last the storm ceases and we go on. We have cut through the sandstones and limestones met in the upper part of the canyon, and through one great bed of marble a thousand feet in thickness.
In this, great numbers of caves are hollowed out, and carvings are seen, which suggest architectural forms, though on a scale so grand that architectural terms belittle them.
It is a peculiar feature of these walls that many projections are

set into the river, as if the wall was buttressed for support. The walls themselves are half a mile high, and these buttresses are on a corresponding scale, jutting into the river scores of feet. In the recesses between these projections there are quiet bays, except at the foot of a rapid, when there are dancing eddies or whirlpools. Sometimes these alcoves have caves at the back, giving them the appearance of great depth. Then other caves are seen above, forming vast, dome-shaped chambers. The walls, and buttresses, and chambers are
all of marble.
The river is now quiet; the canyon wider. Above, when the river is at its flood, the waters gorge up, so that the difference between high and low water mark is often fifty or even seventy feet; but here, high water mark is not more than twenty feet above the present stage of the river. Sometimes there is a narrow flood-plain between the water and the wall.
--John Wesley Powell
journal entry for August 9, 1869

Molly Tuttle: Gentle On My Mind

Sometimes The Rocks Are Of Many Colors

Randy Travis / George Jones: A Few Ol' Country Boys

The limestone of this canyon
is often polished,
and makes a beautiful marble.
Sometimes the rocks
are of many colors
---white, gray, pink and purple,
with saffron tints.
It is with very great labor
that we make progress,
meeting with many obstructions,
running rapids,
letting down our boats
with lines from rock to rock,
and sometimes carrying boats
and cargoes around bad places.
We camp at night,
just after a hard portage,
under an overhanging wall,
glad to find shelter
from the rain.
We have to search for some time to find a few sticks of driftwood,
just sufficient to boil a cup of coffee.
--John Wesley Powell
journal entry for August 8, 1869

When people ask me who my favorite country singer is,
I say, You mean besides George Jones?
--Johnny Cash

And The Walls Are Vertical From The Water's Edge

Old and In The Way : Land of the Navajo...1/10/73

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

More Rapids And Falls Are Found

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

August 4, 1869

John Amorosano: Nine Day Hike--Tanner to Hermit

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

Marshmallow Valentine

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

Elvis Costello: Our Little Angel

A View Of The Adjacent Country

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

So We Name It Music Temple

Grateful Dead: Dark Star...12/11/72

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

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MARC AND JERRY GARCIA

July 31, 1869

Tim O'Brien Band: I've Been All Around This World

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