THE GRAND CANYON BRIDGE 



By Harriet Chalmers Adam; 



THE suspension bridge over the 

 Colorado River in the Grand Can- 

 yon is practically completed. Late 

 this summer it will be possible to ride 

 from El Tovar, on the south rim of the 

 stupendous chasm, to the Kaibab plateau, 

 on the north rim. 



The bridging of the Granite Gorge of 

 the Colorado opens up a new wonderland 

 in the Grand Canyon National Park. 

 From the Kaibab plateau, which averages 

 1,000 feet above the better-known south 

 rim of the canyon, new and amazing 

 panoramas are presented. 



East month I rode down to the river 

 over a trail not yet opened to tourists, 

 messed with the bridge crew, and spent 

 the night in the gorge. The bridge is n 

 miles by trail from El Tovar and 4,700 

 feet below Yaki Point, on the Coconino 

 plateau. The saddle trail, following the 

 Bright Angel and Tonto trails to the 

 river, and up Bright Angel Canyon to 

 the Kaibab forest, is about 31 miles in 

 length. Rim-to-rim travelers will spend 

 the night in a camp near Ribbon Falls, 

 about eight miles beyond the river. 



It was a chilly morning when we 

 started for the bridge camp. The wind 

 surged through the pines and pinyons, 

 and twisted the gnarled cypress trees 

 overlooking the chasm. It is the Rim of 

 the Eternal, to be approached with awe ; 

 but people differ. 



I heard a stout woman, standing by 

 the lookout, say to her daughter, "Oh ! 

 Clara, I'm terribly disappointed. We've 

 come at a time of year when there's no 

 water in the canyon !" 



A tall man, with a red face, was ex- 

 plaining to a thin man in a plaid suit that, 

 in contour, the canyon was exactly like 

 the doughnuts his mother used to make. 



SPRINGTIME ON THE TRAIL 



Once down the trail it was springtime. 

 Shimmering blue- jays chattered among 

 the Douglas firs and emigrant butterflies 

 zigzagged by. High in the cliff a can- 

 yon-wren piped up a love ditty. 



The "expedition" consisted of the 

 Chief Ransrer of the Grand Canyon Na- 



tional Park, the wandering lady he es- 

 corted, and our two mules. The ranger, 

 whose first love was the Yellowstone, has 

 been many years in the park service and 

 regards our national playgrounds with 

 reverence. He is of the opinion that all 

 those caught carving their names on 

 rocks or trees should be lined up and 

 shot at sunrise. 



Down we dropped to the Tonto pla- 

 teau, the green shelf on the canyon wall 

 lying between the ruby-stained limestone 

 and the gray Archean granite. Here 

 winds a trail of romance. 



ONCE THE HIGHWAY OE THE CElEE- 

 DWEEEERS 



In the shadowy past this was the high- 

 way of the Cliff-dwellers. Here, in later 

 years, Spaniards whose names are not 

 written on the historic page adventured. 

 There came occasional fur trappers from 

 lands far to the north ; the first of those 

 great explorers who dared the descent 

 of the river ; hardy miners, whose half- 

 hearted workings still border the Tonto 

 trail. 



We counted seven wild burros de- 

 scended from pack animals abandoned 

 by the miners. Deer were recently seen 

 in this part of the canyon. Mountain- 

 sheep hide on ledges high up the wall- 

 Many other wild creatures still find 

 refuge in this vast wilderness. 



The only animals that we saw, besides 

 the burros, were woodrats nearly as large 

 as squirrels. These "trade rats" accu- 

 mulate great mounds of rubbish. From 

 a camp they walk off with the soap and 

 the spoons, leaving pebbles and sticks in 

 exchange. 



The pack-train, carrying the bridge 

 material from railroad to river, made its 

 half-way camp at Pipe Creek. Here 

 only a lonely black kitten greeted us. 

 The pack-train was "on the job." It has 

 been a tremendous undertaking to move 

 the lumber, cement, and cables down the 

 11 miles of steep, winding trail to the 

 bridge site. Many are the exciting tales 

 told by the packers. On one trip a horse 



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