The Baltimore County union. [volume] (Towsontown, Md.) 1865-1909, 1906-12-15
BY ROwBoAT THROUGH THE GRAND
CANYON. <'s.3----
Pulling an Oar for Four Hundred Miles on
the Colorado River Through the
Indian Summer
Country.
BY GEORGE WHARTON JAMES.


Indian Summer
Country.
BY GEORGE WHARTON JAMES.
A four hundred mile row in a fat
bottomed boat, or scow, down the
Colorado River alone, is not trip
that most men would choose for pleas
ure. But know no fear when alone,
any more than in the company of con-
genial souls, so l went ahead just as
happily as if I had a big crowd along,
and with far less sense of response
bility.
For years I had known the Colo.
RADIO River in the heart of the Grand
Canyon region, where it dashes and
roars and whirls and eddies in its mad
fight between the cruel walls of gran
ite, but had not seen it much in the
desert region where it is an entirely
different stream. I wanted to know
all its phases so planned to go from
the Needles 10 Yuma. How? There
was only one feasible way, unless /
chose to ride astride log as the In
dians sometimes do, and that was to
have fat-bottomed, stub-nosed scow
made, as in the fall and winter the
river generally is low and one long
series of fats of mud and silt and
quicksand.
The boat was made in a few hours.
and a wagon found which hauled it
down to the river. A few interested
souls followed to see what "the in
fernal fool was going to do" and all
helped at the launching. There was
quite a cargo of cameras, Photographic
plates, food and trinkets and calico
for the Indians.
With a CHEEKY shout I said GOOD
Bye !" pushed off, and was soon
stranded on a mud fiat. There was
nothing for it, but to undress and
jump into the water, and my how
cold it was. I felt as if I had been
skinned alive, and / sank rapidly into
the dangerous quicksand. One soon
learns to be careful how to tread in
the bed of the Colorado River. 1t is
dangerous everywhere on that ac-
count.
That night 1 camped under some
cotton wood trees. The boat was
tied up, my GRUB box" and bed
ding carried ashore, and soon a good
fire was blazing away, coffee pot siz-
zling and bacon frying in the pan.
And after hearty meal, how delicious
to sleep in the open, under the clear
canopy of Heaven, the river gently
tapping the bank and the occasional
splash of fish reaching your ears
A couple of hours after breakfast
next morning I passed under the great
canti-lever bridge at the Santa Fe.
1t is a wonderful piece of steel work,
seen from below, but I was glad to
get "from under"
Soon 1.-The Needles hove in sight.
This is the name given to a range of
volcanic mountains near the Colorado,
the sharp points of which stand out
jagged and piercing in the clear Ari-
zona sky.
Now for three days I rowed easily
along, the lazy current affording me
little help, but the slow speed giving
its compensating advantages, for at
the "Big Bend" I was in the heart of
great rocky walls, rough and ragged,
massive and majestic, changing in
form every few minutes, yet each
view as grand and impressive as its
predecessor.
That night slept at the Cheme-
herevis camp and after supper we sat
around the blazing fire while their
chief rhapsodist told stories of the
days when animals spoke the language
of men. Some of the stories were re-
markably interesting, showing the
greatimaginative powersofthe aborig-
inal mind. Next day after break
fast watched the women at work
making baskets, at which they are
very expert, their work being eagerly
sought by collectors on account of its
rarity. Seldom have I found hap
pier children than with these primi-
tive people, who are really not
separate tribe as their name seems to
imply, but are merely band of Patti
tis who left the main body of the tribe
at time of great scarcity of food,
and finding this new location supe-
rior to their old one, settled here for
good.
The ride down the river from the
Chemeherevis to Bill Williams Fork
was varied with a fierce rain and wind
storm. in which I got wet through,
and my boat several times nearly
swamped by the wind-tossed waves.
But as the river is nowhere very deep,
1 was not much alarmed even when
the storm was at its highest, and
seemed as if it would sink the boat
and swallow me up in its anger.
The point where Bill Williams Fork
enters the Colorado is both pictur-
esque and historic. In the early days
of the trappers and prospectors, even
before California had come into the
Union, this region was noted as a
rendezvous. The former found beaver
and other valuable fur-bearing ami
mails on the river. The occasional
discovery in Arizona of rich gold
mines, kept stream of adventurous
spirits constantly wondering to and
fro in eager quest of that which
brought wealth and its attendant
luxuries. At the fall of the year
there is but little water, though one
can never tell in this uncertain region
when a cloudburst will convert a tiny