Looking up a Side Canyon of the Grand Canyon in the Kaibab Division. Looking up a Side Canyon of the Grand Canyon in the Kaibab Division. Photograph by J.K. HILLERS, U.S. Colo. Riv. Exp.
It was now the beginning of September, but the water and the air were not so cold as they had been the year before in Cataract Canyon, and we did not suffer from being so constantly saturated. Running on the next day following the Bright Angel camp, we found the usual number of large rapids, in one of which a wave struck the steering oar and knocked Jones out of the boat all but his knees, by which he clung to the gunwale, nearly capsizing us. We found it impossible to help him, but somehow he got in again. The river was everywhere very swift and turbulent. One stretch of three and a half miles we ran in fifteen minutes. There were numerous whirlpools, but nothing to stop our triumphant progress. On the 2d of September there were two portages, and twenty rapids run, in the fifteen miles made during the day. Many of these rapids were very heavy descents. That night we camped above a bad-looking place, but it was decided to run it in the morning. Three-quarters of a mile below camp there was a general disappearance of the waters. We could see nothing of the great rapid from the level of the boats, though we caught an occasional glimpse of the leaping, tossing edges, or tops, of the huge billows rolling out beyond into the farther depths of the chasm. About eight o’clock in the morning all was ready for the start. The inflated life-preservers, as was customary in our boat, were laid behind the seats where we could easily reach them. The Major put his on, a most fortunate thing for him as it turned out, but we who were at the oars did not for the reason before mentioned,—that they interfered with the free handling of the boat. The men of the _Cañonita_ took positions where they could observe and profit by our movements. Then out into the current we pushed and were immediately swept downward with ever-increasing speed toward the centre of the disturbance, the black walls springing up on each side of the impetuous waters like mighty buttresses for the lovely blue vault of the September sky, so serenely quiet. Accelerated by the rush of a small intervening rapid, our velocity appeared to multiply till we were flying along like a railway train. The whole width of the river dropped away before us, falling some twenty-five or thirty feet, at least, in a short space. We now saw that the rapid was of a particularly difficult nature, and the order was given to attempt a landing on some rocks at its head, on the left. At the same instant this was seen to be impossible. Our only safety lay in taking the plunge in the main channel. We backwatered on our oars to check our speed a trifle, and the next moment with a wild leap we went over, charging into the roaring, seething, beating waves below. Wave after wave broke over us in quick succession, keeping our standing-rooms full. The boat plunged like a bucking broncho, at the same time rolling with fierce violence. As rapidly as possible we bailed with our kettles, but the effort was useless. At length, as we neared the end, an immense billow broke upon our port bow with a resounding crack. The little craft succumbed. With a quick careen she turned upside down, and we were in the foaming current. I threw up my hand and fortunately grasped a spare oar that was fastened along the outside of the boat. This enabled me to pull myself above the surface and breathe. My felt hat had stuck to my head and now almost suffocated me. Pushing it back I looked around. Not a sign of life was to be seen. The river disappeared below in the dark granite. My companions were gone. I was apparently alone in the great chasm. But in a moment or two Powell and Hillers, who had both been pulled down by the whirlpool that was keeping all together, shot up like rockets beside me, and then I noticed Jones clinging to the ring in the stern. As we told Powell, after this experience was over, he had tried to make a geological investigation of the bed of the river, and this was not advisable. Hillers and I climbed on the bottom of the upturned boat, and by catching hold of the opposite gunwale, and throwing ourselves back, we brought her right-side up. Then we two climbed in, an operation requiring nice calculation, for she rolled so much with the load of water that her tendency was to turn over again on slight provocation. We bailed with our hats rapidly. There was need for expeditious work, for we could not tell what might be around the corner. Presently enough water was out to steady the boat, and we then helped Powell and Jones to get in.