STEEP TRAILS 



seem, less dangerous than home stairs. The 

 guides are cautious, and so are the experi- 

 enced, much-enduring beasts. The scrawniest 

 Rosinantes and wizened-rat mules cling hard 

 to the rocks endwise or sidewise, like lizards 

 or ants. From terrace to terrace, climate to 

 climate, down one creeps in sun and shade, 

 through gorge and gully and grassy ravine, 

 and, after a long scramble on foot, at last be- 

 neath the mighty cliffs one comes to the grand, 

 roaring river. 



To the mcfuntaineer the depth of the canon, 

 from five thousand to six thousand feet, will 

 not seem so very wonderful, for he has often 

 explored others that are about as deep. But 

 the most experienced will be awestruck by the 

 vast extent of strange, countersunk scenery, 

 the multitude of huge rock monuments of 

 painted masonry built up in regular courses 

 towering above, beneath, and round about 

 him. By the Bright Angel Trail the last fif- 

 teen hundred feet of the descent to the river 

 has to be made afoot down the gorge of Indian 

 Garden Creek. Most of the visitors do not 

 like this part, and are content to stop at the 

 end of the horse-trail and look down on the 

 dull-brown flood from the edge of the Indian 

 Garden Plateau. By the new Hance Trail, 

 excepting a few daringly steep spots, you can 



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