92 NARRATIVE AND ITINERARY — UPPER MPTO-LY-AS CANON. 



every side by thick forests of pine and fir. Beyond it, the sun, which had nearly set behind 

 Mount Jefferson, crowned his snowy head with crimson and gold, and threw an indescribable 

 glory over the tangled mass of mountains at his feet. We descended, and began eagerly to 

 search for water ; but found none. Still, as it was too late to go further, we encamped ; and, 

 by digging a hole about three feet deep in a moist spot, succeeded in obtaining enough muddy 

 water for ourselves, but not for the animals. The little prairie was evidently, in the rainy 

 season, a meadow in which a tributary of Mpto-ly-as river heads. Mr. Anderson in following 

 down its bed through the forest found a little water, about a quarter of a mile from camp ; but 

 it was dark before he returned. The moon seemed very bright in the pure mountain air, and I 

 easily wrote my journal by its light. 



September 27. — This morning it rained. After following a westerly course through the wet 

 bushes for about a quarter of a mile, we suddenly saw the light breaking through the dense 

 forest before us, and, hoping that we were approaching another prairie, pressed eagerly 

 forward. We soon stopped in blank amazement on the verge of an immense canon, which 

 was found by subsequent measurement to be 1,945 feet deep. Far below us we heard the roar 

 of a mountain torrent. Opposite rose, steep and black, and hitherto unseen by civilized man, 

 the naked base of Mount Jefferson, while around it clustered gloomy, fir-covered mountains, 

 whose tops were hidden in rolling masses of clouds. The canon side below us was so steep and 

 rocky that we feared the descent would be impracticable. I directed the animals to be herded, 

 and sent three men to explore it, while Dr. Newberry and I followed along the edge about 

 half a mile to a projecting cliff, from which we could obtain a better view of the country. It 

 had ceased raining, and the heavy clouds which shrouded the opposite mountains rose slowly 

 until a noble panorama lay outspread before us. The river came from the south in an enor- 

 mous canon, and, after washing the base of Mount Jefferson, disappeared in a northerly 

 direction. Into this canon two others opened in front of us, one containing a small tributary 

 from the west, the other winding out of sight towards the north, apparently in the direction which 

 we wished to explore. The bottom of the latter appeared to be free from trees, and to rise with a 

 very gentle slope. Much elated by the prospect of escaping from fallen timber, we returned to the 

 rest of the party, and began the descent to the river. Slowly and with great difficulty we 

 forced our animals, now along narrow ledges of dark gray slate, where a mis-step would have 

 precipitated them to instant destruction, now down steep slopes of loose rocks of the same 

 character, masses of which, becoming dislodged, rolled down the precipice, and starting others 

 in their course filled the canon with reverberating echoes. After winding about in this manner 

 for nearly three quarters of a mile, we at length reached the bottom in safety. It was about 

 three hundred yards wide, bordered by pines and thickly carpeted with fine bunch grass. A 

 river, which I knew must be the Mpto-ly-as, flowed through it, apparently unfordable from its 

 depth and velocity. Its banks were abrupt and lined with willows, and its bed was full of 

 boulders. After liding up the canon about a half a mile, we at length discovered a very bad 

 reeky ford, but some of the animals mired in getting out of the water. We then turned 

 towards the north, and crossing the western canon near its mouth, found in it a small stream 

 with very miry banks, and an old Indian trail. On reaching the second lateral canon we found, 

 to our bitter disappointment, that the absence of trees in its bottom was due to a mass of com- 

 paratively modern lava, divided in every direction by deep fissures, which rendered it totally 

 impassable to our animals, and almost so to ourselves. It had flowed from the eastern side of 

 Mount Jefferson, ai d had cooled so rapidly as to leave a narrow strip of the valley, on each side, 



