136 
THE GEAND CANON DISTEICT. 
character arises from the monotony of the scenery. There are hundreds of 
hills and gulches, but they all look alike. There are no landmarks except 
trees, which are worse than none at all. If you enter a ravine for the 
second time at a point other than that at which you first entered it you 
would probably fail to recognize it. As with the faces of the Chinese, no 
conscientious white man would be willing to swear that he had ever seen 
any particular one before. Yet the riddle of the Kaibab is soon solved, and, 
once read, all danger is over. If the traveler is lost there is an infallible 
clew. He must go at once to De Motte Park. But how shall he find the 
way? If he has reason to suppose that he is within a dozen miles of it he 
has onl}^ to enter a main ravine and follow it to its head. This, however, 
does not apply to the portions of the plateau which lie more than five miles 
north of the park. The way may be long, but is easy and sure. A few 
ravines fade out before reaching the near neighborhood of the park. In 
that event take the nearest one on the right or left. All of them head upon 
the summit which looks down into the park. It is necessary, however, to 
keep to the main ravine and avoid its minor tributaries, and there is a crite- 
rion by which it may be distinguished At the confiuence of a lateral 
ravine the gi’ade of the main ravine is always the less of the two. 
Although this may seem to be nothing more than a trivial bit of wood- 
craft, it really illustrates an important fact — the drainage system of a large 
portion of the Kaibab. The study of this drainage system will shed some 
light upon the geological history not only of the plateau itself, but of the 
region adjoining, and of the Grand Canon. 
The thought which must be predominant in the mind of one who for 
the first time enters the Kaibab is of the Gi’and Canon. The fame of its 
grandeur is world-wide, and the desire to see it as it is grows stronger the 
nearer he approaches to it. This longing must be at least tempered, if not 
wholly satisfied, before the mind is in the humor to contemplate anything 
else. Our first expedition, then, shall be to the brink of the great abyss. 
As the sun is rising and before his beams have penetrated to the bot- 
tom of the park we are on the way. On either hand is the forest, covering 
the slopes and the heights above, but ending suddenly at the foot of every 
incline. Before us to the southward stretches the open field with hardly an 
