At last the Colorado River is reached, and we are but
two thousand four hundred and thirty-six feet above the sea.
El Tovar,
above, is six thousand eight hundred and sixty-six feet, and we have thus
descended four thousand four hundred and thirty feet, nearly a mile, from
rim to river. And what a river it is! No one can form any idea of it,
unless he stands on the very brink, almost deafened by the sound of its
sullen roar and turbulent rapids. It is hungry, insatiable, murderous,
cruel. Many a foolish mortal has had the breath dashed from his body by
these powerful waves. Those who wish to cross to the other side can defy
danger in the cable crossing, but only a skilled boatman should attempt to
row across.
Colorado Salmon. Fish are caught in the river here at times. The chief
variety is a scale-bearing fish, of silvery appearance, commonly known to
the local dwellers as Colorado salmon. Specimens have been caught two feet
eight inches in length, and sixteen inches in circumference, and a
fortunate fisherman brought one up to El Tovar, which was nearly three feet
in length.
Camping at the River. It is a delightful experience to remain over night
and sleep on the river sand, especially if the moon be at its full. Then
one sees great walking shadows - moving, living, palpable entities. Towers
and buttes and temples take on new qualities under the softer luminary of
the night.
Here, too, one gets to know the Canyon in a new phase. He is in the trough
between two ranges of mountains. To the north and to the south are towering
peaks. You forget that you have ridden down, down, to reach this spot. You
are in a new country. A majestic range of glorious peaks soars away above
you to the north. Now, by merely turning in the other direction, you see
another and entirely different range, with peaks, canyons, ravines, gorges,
points, ridges all its own.
The Return to El Tovar. Riding back to El Tovar, with thoughts like these,
the visitor imagines himself riding to a City Celestial. He reaches the
plateau, studies for a while the unique coloring of the Algonkian strata
just above the Granite Gorge, and sees where the faulting has raised them
above the Tonto sandstones. Then, steadily looking upward, he rides
forward, climbing slowly but surely to the peaks above. Tired though he is,
he feels a constant thrill of satisfaction as he rises higher and higher,
and when, at last, his animal lifts him to the level of El Tovar, and he
stands once more in his room at the hotel, he feels an exaltation
vouchsafed only to those who have dared and done an unusual thing. And this
the Canyon is! No matter how often the trip is made, the interest of it
never tires; the wonder of it never grows less.
CHAPTER IX. To Grand View And Down The Grand View Trail
To Grand View.
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