86 BLACK CANON TO GREAT BEND —OUTLET FROM CANON. 
Several rapids followed, at short distances, all of which would be troublesome to pass at the 
present depth of water. The constant getting out of the boat, and the labor of dragging it 
through these difficult places, made our progress for some miles exceedingly tedious and 
fatiguing. As sunset was approaching we came to a nook in the side of the cafion, four miles 
above the Roaring rapid, where a patch of gravel and a few pieces of drift-wood, lodged upon 
the rocks, offered a tolerable camping place, and we hauled the skiff upon the shingle, and 
stopped for the night. There was no need of keeping a watch, with two grin. lines of sentinels, 
a thousand feet high, guarding the camp. Even though we could have been seen from the 
verge of the cliff above, our position was totally inaccessible. 
Darkness supervened with surprising suddenness. Pall after pall of shade fell, as it were in 
clouds, upon the deep recesses about us. The line of light, through the opening above, at 
last became blurred and indistinct, and, save the dull red glare of the camp-fire, all was 
enveloped in a murky gloom. Soon the narrow belt again brightened, as the rays of the moon 
reached the summits of the mountains. Gazing far upward upon the edges of the overhanging 
walls we witnessed the gradual illumination. A few isolated turrets and pinnacles first appeared 
in strong relief upon the blue band of the heavens. As the silvery light descended, and fell 
upon the opposite crest of the abyss, strange and uncouth shapes seemed to start out, all 
sparkling and blinking in the light, and to be peering over at us as we lay watching them from 
the bottom of the profound chasm. The contrast between the vivid glow above, and the black 
obscurity beneath, formed one of the most striking points in the singular picture. Of the 
subsequent appearance of things, when the moon rose higher, I do not think any of our weary 
party took particular notice. 
This morning, as soon as the light permitted, we were again upon the way. The ascent of 
the river was attended with as much labor as it had been the day before; for though none of 
the rapids were of so violent a character, they were of constant occurrence. The wind still 
held to the south, and the blanket sail was again set to great advantage. 
The cafion continued increasing in size and magnificence. No description can convey an 
idea of the varied and majestic grandeur of this peerless water-way. Wherever the river 
makes a turn the entire panorama changes, and one startling novelty after another appears and 
disappears with bewildering rapidity. Stately fagades, august cathedrals, amphitheatres, 
rotundas, castellated walls, and rows of time-stained ruins, surmounted by every form of tower, 
minaret, dome, and spire, have been moulded from the cyclopean masses of rock that form the 
mighty defile. The solitude, the stillness, the subdued light, and the vastness of every 
surrounding object, produce an impression of awe that ultimately becomes almost painful. As 
hour after hour passed we began to look anxiously ahead for some sign of an outlet from the 
range, but the declining day brought only fresh piles of mountains, higher, apparently, than 
any before seen. We had made up our minds to pass another night in the cafion, and were — 
searching for a spot large enough to serve as a resting-place, when we came into a narrow 
passage, between two mammoth peaks, that seemed to be nodding to each other across the 
stream, and unexpectedly found, at the upper end, the termination of the Black cafion. 
Low hills of gravel intercepted the view, and prevented us from seeing far into the unknown 
region beyond. A mile above the cafion the river swept the base of a high hill, with salient 
angles, like the bastions of a fort. At the base was a little ravine, which offered a camping 
place that would be sheltered from observation, and we drew the skiff out of the water, 
determining not to proceed any further till to-morrow. Leaving the mate to take charge of 
the boat, the captain and myself ascended the hill, which is over a thousand feet high. A 
scene of barren and desolate confusion was spread before us. We seemed to have reached the 
focus or culminating point of the volcanic disturbances that have left their traces over the 
whole region south. In almost every direction were hills and mountains heaped together 
without any apparent system or order. A small oper area intervened b»tween camp and a — 
