But No One Can Estimate
The Continual Source Of Delight And Pleasure The Memories Of Such A Trip
Are To Those Who Have Resolutely Faced And Overcome The Merely Temporary
Discomforts Entailed.
The experiences with the burros, the surprises of the
scenery, the exquisite delight of the perfect rest and dreamless
Sleep one
enjoys, after the first few nights of novelty are worn off, the
satisfaction of seeing and knowing much of the most sublime piece of
natural scenery on earth, are compensations and satisfactions enough.
Down Bright Angel Trail. After one has gained the slight knowledge of the
Canyon afforded by the easier trips described, let him plan to make the
following as "a starter" in his more thorough investigation. With a good
guide, pack animals carrying a full equipment of sleeping, cooking and
eating necessities, plenty of water in canteens, one or two extra canvasses
in case of rain, a note-book, and pencils or fountain pen, a compass and
barometer for altitude readings, and the United States Geological Survey
maps of the region, one is ready to make a "good start." Descend the
Bright Angel Trail to the river, study the formations all the way down; get
a clear idea of the relative positions of the strata, and learn to detect
them by the individualistic appearances of wall, temple, butte, etc.; and
examine the so-called cliff-dwellings hidden away in the Tonto sandstones
before descending on the gneiss into Pipe Creek Canyon. Arrived at the
river, spend a day there investigating the peculiar foldings and tiltings
of the Algonkian strata. Sleep, as did Powell and his men for weeks, on the
sands of the Colorado River, with the noise of the rapids ever in your
ears. Breathe the pure air, and watch the solemn march of the stars.
Have you ever noticed how delicious the most ordinary food is, when cooked
and eaten in the open air, after a day of reasonable exertion? Climbing,
riding, and walking expand the lungs, and this means the absorption of
immeasurably more oxygen. Weak stomachs, fickle appetites, dyspeptic
symptoms, insomnia, blue devils and a score of the ills that human flesh is
heir to, disappear before the floods of sunshine and oxygen that bathe the
body, inside and out, of the man or woman who gladly accepts the outdoor
life, even though only for a short time, in this Canyon region.
These philosophizings are aroused by the smell of bacon frying over the
camp-fire, or the crack of a fine, mealy Arizona potato, roasting in the
ashes, or a whiff from the coffee-pot, just about to topple over on the
burning sticks. The fire is made of driftwood washed down possibly from
some storm-swept region where a Mormon dwells with his numerous family; or,
mayhap, from a forest where the elk of Wyoming still roam.
How real life in this Canyon now begins to be. It is opening up its secrets
to us as we thus come into it.
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