Chapter X: The Grand Canon of Arizona 271 (8)

We were obliged to content ourselves with a view of the river from this height, though I had expected to descend to the river's edge and felt correspondingly disappointed. We had started too late for so long a trip and now it was time to turn back. Looking back at the solid and apparently perpendicular rock, nearly a mile high, it seemed impossible that any one could ascend to the top. It is only when one looks out from the bottom of this vast chasm at the huge walls on every side that he begins to realize its awfulness. We are mere specks in the bottom of a gigantic mould wherein some great mountain range might have been cast. There are great mountains all about us and yet we are not on a mountain but in a vast hole. The surface of the earth is above us. A great gash has been cut into it, two hundred miles long, twelve to fifteen miles wide, and a mile deep, and we are in the depths of that frightful abyss with--to all appearance--no possible means of escape. Perpendicular cliffs of enormous height, which not even a mountain sheep could climb, hem us in on every side. The shadows are growing deep and it seems that the day must be nearly done. Yet we remount our mules and slowly retrace our steps over the steep ascent. It seems as though the strain would break the backs of the animals. As we approached the summit of the path some one remarked, "I should think these mules would be so tired they would be ready to drop." "Wait and see," said the guide. A few minutes later we reached the top and dismounted, feeling pretty stiff from the exertion. The mules were unsaddled and turned loose. Away they scampered like a lot of schoolboys at recess, kicking their heels high in the air and racing madly across the field. "I guess they're not as tired as we are," said the Major, as he painfully tried to straighten up. Just then the little girl of twelve came up to me. "There is one thing," she said, "that has been puzzling me all day. How in the world did you find out so quickly that your mule's name was Sam?" "Name ain't Sam," interrupted the guide, bluntly. "Name's Teddy--Teddy Roosevelt."

Some years ago I had occasion to attend a stereopticon lecture on the Grand Canon. The speaker was enthusiastic and his pictures excellent. But he fired off all his ammunition of adjectives with the first slide. For an hour and a half we sat listening to an endless repetition of "grand," "magnificent," "sublime," "awe-inspiring," etc. As we walked home a young lad in our party, who was evidently studying rhetoric in school, was heard to inquire, "Mother, wouldn't you call that an example of tautology?" I fear I should merit the same criticism if I were to undertake a description of the canon. Yet we may profitably stand, for a few moments, on Hopi Point, a promontory that projects far out from the rim, and try to measure it with our eyes.

That great wall on the opposite side is just thirteen miles away. The strip of white at its upper edge, which in my photograph measures less than a quarter of an inch, is a stratum of limestone five hundred feet thick. Here and there we catch glimpses of the river. It is five miles away, and forty-six hundred feet--nearly a perpendicular mile--below the level upon which we are standing. We look to the east and then to the west, but we see only a small part of the chasm. It melts away in the distance like a ship at sea. From end to end it is two hundred and seventeen miles. It is not one canon, but thousands. Every river that runs into the Colorado has cut out its own canon, and each of these has its countless tributaries. It has been estimated that if all the canons were placed end to end in a straight line they would stretch twenty thousand miles.

If this mighty gash in the earth's surface were only a great valley with gently sloping sides and a level floor, it would still be impressive and inspiring, though not so picturesque. But its floor is filled with a multitude of temples and castles and amphitheaters of stupendous size, all sculptured into strange shapes by the erosion of the waters. Any one of these, if it could be transported to the level plains of the Middle West or set up on the Atlantic Coast, would be an object of wonder which hundreds of thousands would visit. Away off in the distance is the Temple of Shiva, towering seventy-six hundred and fifty feet above the sea and fifty-two hundred and fourteen feet (nearly a mile) above the river. Take it to the White Mountains and set it down in the Crawford Notch. From its summit you would look down upon the old Tip-Top house of Mount Washington, eight hundred feet below. Much nearer, and a little to the right, is the "Pyramid of Cheops," a much smaller butte but rising fifty-three hundred and fifty feet above the sea-level. If the "Great Pyramid of Cheops" in Egypt were to be placed by its side it would scarcely be visible from where we stand, for it would be lost in the mass of rocky formations. Mr. G. Wharton James, who has spent many years of his life in the study of the canon, says that he gazed upon it from a certain point every year for twenty years and often daily for weeks at a time. He continues, "Such is the marvelousness of distance that never until two days ago did I discover that a giant detached mountain fully eight thousand feet high and with a base ten miles square ... stood in the direct line of my sight, and as it were, immediately before me." He discovered it only because of a peculiarity of the light. It had always appeared as a part of the great north wall, though separated from it by a canon fully eight miles wide.

How are we to realize these enormous depths? Those isolated peaks and mountains, of which there are hundreds, are really only details in the vast stretch of the canon. Not one of them reaches above the level of the plain on the north side. Tourists who have traveled much are familiar with the great cathedrals of Europe. Let us drop a few of them into the canon. First, St. Peter's, the greatest cathedral in the world. We lower it to the level of the river, and it disappears behind the granite cliff. Let the stately Duomo of Milan follow. Its beautiful minarets and multitude of statues are lost in the distance, and though we place it on the top of St. Peter's, it, too, is out of sight behind the cliffs. We must have something larger, so we place on top of Milan the great cathedral of Cologne, five hundred and one feet high, and the tips of its two great spires barely appear above the point from which we watched the swiftly rolling river. Now let us poise on the top of Cologne's spires, two great Gothic cathedrals of France, Notre Dame and Amiens, one above the other, then add St. Paul's of London, the three great towers of Lincoln, the triple spires of Lichfield, Canterbury with its great central tower, and the single spire, four hundred and four feet high, of Salisbury. We are still far from the top. These units of measurement are too small. Let us add the tallest office building in the world, seven hundred and fifty feet high, and then the Eiffel Tower, of nine hundred and eighty-six feet. We shall still need the Washington Monument, and if my calculations are correct, an extension ladder seventy-five feet long on top of that, to enable us to reach the top of the northern wall. One might amuse himself indefinitely with such comparisons. Perhaps they are futile, but it is only by some such method that one can form the faintest conception of the colossal dimensions of this, the greatest chasm in the world.

Still more bewildering is the attempt to measure the canon in periods of time. There were two great periods in its history--first, the period of upheaval, and second, that of erosion. When the geologic movement was in process which created the continent, with the Rocky Mountains for its backbone, this entire region became a plateau, vastly higher than at present, with its greatest elevation far to the north. Then the rivers began to carry the rains and snows to the sea, carving channels for themselves through the rocky surface. The steep decline caused the waters to flow with swiftness. The little streamlets united to form larger ones, and these in turn joined their waters in still greater streams. The larger the stream and the swifter the flow, the faster the channel would be carved. The softer rocks gave slight resistance, but when the granite or harder formations were encountered, the streams would eddy and whirl about in search of new channels, the hard rocks forming a temporary dam. In this way the hundreds of buttes were formed. The Green River and the Grand unite to form the Colorado, the entire course of this great waterway stretching for two thousand miles. The two streams carry down a mighty flood--in former ages it was far mightier than now--which in its swift descent has ground the rocks into sand and silt and with resistless force carried them down to the sea. Those great buttes and strangely sculptured temples, each a formidable mountain, were not thrown up by volcanic forces, but have been carved out of the solid earth by the erosion of the waters. That river five miles away, of which we see only glimpses here and there, was the tool with which the Great Sculptor carved all this wondrous chasm. Major Powell has calculated that the amount of rock thus ground to pieces and carried away would be equivalent to a mass two hundred thousand square miles in area and a full mile in thickness. Think of excavating a mile deep the entire territory of New England, New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware, Maryland, and West Virginia, and dumping it all into the Atlantic. Then think that this is the task the Colorado River and other geologic forces have accomplished, and pause to wonder how long it took to complete the process! If the Egyptian kings who built the pyramids had come here for material they would have seen the chasm substantially as we see it!

The geologic story of the canon's origin is too far beyond our comprehension. Let us turn to the Indian account. A great chief lost his wife and refused to be comforted. An Indian God, Ta-vwoats, came to him and offered to conduct him to a happier land where he might see her, if he would promise to cease mourning. Then Ta-vwoats made a trail through the mountains to the happy land and there the chief saw his wife. This trail was the canon of the Colorado. The deity made the chief promise that he would reveal the path to no man, lest all might wish to go at once to heaven, and in order to block the way still more effectually he rolled a mad surging river through the gorges so swift and strong that it would destroy any one who dared attempt to enter heaven by that route.

I have often been asked which is the greater wonder, the Grand Canon of the Colorado River or the Yellowstone National Park. The question is unanswerable. One might as well attempt to say whether the sea is more beautiful than the sky. If mere size is meant, the Grand Canon is vastly greater. If all the geysers of the Yellowstone were placed down in the bottom of the Grand Canon at the level of the river, and all were to play at once, the effect would be unnoticed from Hopi Point. The canon of the Yellowstone River, impressive as it is, would be lost in one of the side canons of the Colorado.

The Grand Canon and the Yellowstone are creations of a totally different kind.

The Yellowstone is a garden of wonders. The Grand Canon is a sublime spectacle.

The Yellowstone is a variety of interesting units. The Grand Canon is a unit of infinite variety.

The Yellowstone contains a collection of individual marvels, each wondrous in structure and many of them exquisite in beauty. The Grand Canon is one vast masterpiece of unimagined architecture, limitless grandeur, and ever-changing but splendidly harmonious brilliancy of color.

The Yellowstone fills the mind with wonder and amazement at all the varied resources of Nature. The Grand Canon fills the soul with awe and reverence as one stands in silence upon the brink and humbly reflects upon the infinite power of God.

THE END

INDEX

INDEX

Alcott, A. Bronson, 192, 193.

Alcott, Louisa M., 193.

Aldrich, Thomas Bailey, 207-20.

Amiel, Henri Frederic, 118; 124-27.

Anderson, Mary, 110, 112, 113.

Appledore, 222, 223, 232.

Arbury Hall, 20-28.

ARIZONA, THE GRAND CANON OF, 271-96.

Arnold, Thomas, 52, 98, 99.

Arona, 156.

Authari, the Long-haired, 164.

Ayrshire, 46-48.

Bashkirtseff, Marie, 132, 133.

Bastien-Lepage, 133.

Battlefield of Concord, 186, 187.

Belgirate, 155-56.

Bellagio, 168.

Borromeo, Carlo, 156, 161.

Borromeo, Count Vitaliano, 154.

Bruce, Robert, 85, 90, 91.

Burns, Robert, 43-48.

BURROUGHS, JOHN, A DAY WITH, 233-50.

Burroughs, John, 227, 228.

Byron, Lord, 143, 144.

Cadenabbia, 158, 159.

Canon of the Yellowstone, the, 267-69.

Carlyle, Thomas, 41, 44, 66.

Caroline, Queen, 168.

Catskill Mountains, 237, 238, 239, 242, 243, 246.

Channing, Ellery, 186.

Coleridge, Hartley, 62.

Coleridge, Samuel T., 51, 61, 62.

Colorado River, the, 282-88; 293-95.

Colvin, Sir Sidney, 19-21.

Como, City of, 165, 168.

Como, Lake, 95-98; 137; 138; 150; 158-68.

Concord, Massachusetts, 179-95.

Deffand, Marquise du, 140.

De Quincey, Thomas, 52, 59, 63, 64.

Drummond, William, 77-84.

Ecclefechan, 41-44.

Eliot George, 20-35.

Ellastone, original of "Hayslope," 31.

Emerson, Lidian, 188, 190.

Emerson, Ralph Waldo, 17; 181-92; 249.

Esk, Vale of the, 75-92.

Esthwaite, Lake, 56.

Evans, Rev. Frederick R., 28-29.

Fields, James T., 199, 200.

Gaeta vase, 170.

Gallio, Cardinal, 168.

Gould, Jay, 236, 237.

GRAND CANON OF ARIZONA, THE, 271-96.

Grant, Gen. U. S., 244.

Grasmere, 59, 60, 61, 65, 66.

Gravedona, palace of Cardinal Gallio, 168.

GREAT BRITAIN, LITERARY RAMBLES IN, 15-48.

Green, Thomas H., 117, 118, 122, 123, 124, 127.

Haines, George, 170-74.

Hawthorne, Elizabeth, 198, 199.

Hawthorne, Madam, 198, 200.

Hawthorne, Nathaniel; in Concord, 179-95; in Salem, 196-206.

Hawthorne, Sophia Peabody, 180, 185; 198; 199.

HAWTHORNDEN TO ROSLIN GLEN, FROM, 73-92.

Holmes, Oliver Wendell, 17.

"House of the Seven Gables, The," 196, 202-06.

Il Medeghino, 160-63.

Iron Crown of Lombardy, 165.

Isles of Shoals, the, 222-32.

Isola Bella, 152-55.

Isola dei Pescatori, 155.

Isola Madre, 155.

ITALIAN LAKES, A TOUR OF THE, 147-74.

Jonson, Ben, 81-84.

Lacus Larius. _See_ Como.

Lacus Verbanus. _See_ Maggiore.

"Lady Wentworth," scenes of, 220, 221.

Laighton, Oscar, 229.

Lamb, William and Caroline, 141-44.

Lasswade, 75-76.

Lecco, Lake, 95, 96.

Lespinasse, Julie de, 139-41.

Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth, 17; 159; 220; 221.

Lowell, James Russell, 17; 55; 232.

Lugano, Lake, 96, 151, 157, 159.

Luino, 156, 157.

Maggiore, Lake, 96, 149, 150, 152-56, 159.

Mammoth Hot Springs, 255-57.

Medici, Gian Giacomo de (Il Medeghino), 160-63.

Melbourne, Lord, 141-44.

Menaggio, 160.

Minute-Man, the, Concord, 186, 187.

Monument, the, on battlefield of Concord, 186, 187.

Musketaquid, river at Concord, 185.

NEW ENGLAND, LITERARY LANDMARKS OF, 175-232.

Nuneaton, 20, 22, 29, 30.

Nutter House, the, 207-16.

Old Faithful, 254; 262-65.

Old Manse, the, 179-86.

Oxford, 99-100.

Passmore Edwards Settlement, London, 103-09, 127.

Pattison, Mark, 100; 117-21; 126, 127.

Peabody, Elizabeth Palmer, 198.

Peabody, Mary (Mrs. Horace Mann), 198.

Peabody, Dr. Nathaniel, 197.

Peabody, Sophia. _See_ Hawthorne, Sophia Peabody.

Pliny, the Elder, 160, 166.

Pliny, the Younger, 166, 167.

Pogliaghi, Lombard decorator, 170, 171.

Portsmouth, N.H., 207-21.

Powell, Major John W., 283-87.

Ripley, Rev. Ezra, 182.

Ripley, Rev. Samuel, 182.

"Robert Elsmere," 102, 109, 110-27.

Roslin Castle, 86-88.

Roslin Chapel, 88, 90.

Roslin Glen, 75-92.

St. Clair family, of Roslin, 87, 88, 91, 92.

Salem, Massachusetts, 196-206.

Salpion, Greek sculptor, 170.

"Scarlet Letter, The," 201-02.

Scott, Sir Walter, 37, 38, 39, 45, 46, 75, 76, 89, 90, 239.

Sleepy Hollow Cemetery, Concord, 187-89.

Southey, Robert, 51.

Thaxter, Celia, 221, 223-32.

Theodelinda, Queen of the Lombards, 163-65.

Thoreau, Henry D., 182-91; 228.

Tower of London, 18.

Tremezzo, 168.

Varenna, 163.

Victoria Monument, London, 40.

Villa Bonaventura, 169.

Villa Carlotta, 168, 169.

Villa d'Este, 168.

Villa Maria, 169-74.

Villa Pliniana, 167, 168.

Walden Pond, 191.

WARD, MRS. HUMPHRY, THE COUNTRY OF, 93-146.

Ward, Mrs. Humphry, scenes of novels, 36, 37, 111-17; 128-31; 134-38;
145; 169.

Washburn, Gen. Henry D., 253.

Wayside, the, Hawthorne's house in Concord, 193, 194.

Wentworth House, 220-21.

Westmoreland, 51-72; 98; 131; 134; 135; 136; 239; 241.

White, Gilbert, 228.

Wilson, John (Christopher North), 52.

Windermere, Lake, 54; 68; 70; 98.

Windermere village, 51.

WORDSWORTH'S COUNTRY, A DAY IN, 49-72.

Wordsworth, Dorothy, 41, 63, 64, 65.

Wordsworth, Mrs., 63.

Wordsworth, William, 41; 51-72; 98; 158; 239-43.

YELLOWSTONE, GLIMPSES OF THE, 251-69.

Yellowstone Lake, the, 261; 267.

Yellowstone National Park, the, 295, 296.

Yellowstone River, the, 267, 268.

The Riverside Press
CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS
U. S. A.

End of Project Gutenberg's The Lure of the Camera, by Charles S. Olcott

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