CHAPTER III. 
FROM FLAMING GORGE TO THE GATE OF LODORE. 
You must not think of a mountain-range as a line of peaks standing on 
a plain, but as a broad platform many miles wide, from which mountains 
have been carved by the waters. You must conceive, too, that this plateau 
is cut by gulches and canons in many directions, and that beautiful valleys 
are scattered about at different altitudes. The first series of canons we are 
about to explore constitutes a river channel through such a range of mount 
ains. The canon is cut nearly half-way through the range, then turns to 
the east, and is cut along the central line, or axis, gradually crossing it to the 
south. Keeping this direction for more than fifty miles, it then turns abruptly 
to a southwest course, and goes diagonally through the southern slope of the 
range. 
This much we knew before entering, as we made a partial exploration 
of the region last fall, climbing many of its peaks, and in a few places reach 
ing the brink of the canon walls, and looking over precipices, many hundreds 
of feet high, to the water below. 
Here and there the walls are broken by lateral canons, the channels of 
little streams entering the river ; through two or three of these, we found our 
way down to the Green in early winter, and walked along the low water- 
beach at the -foot of the cliffs for several miles. Where the river has this 
general easterly direction, the western part only has cut for itself a canon, 
while the eastern has formed a broad valley, called, in honor of an old-time 
trapper, Brown's Park, and long known as a favorite winter resort for 
mountain men and Indians. 
May 30. This morning we are ready to enter the mysterious canon, 
and start with some anxiety. The old mountaineers tell us that it cannot 
be run ; the Indians say, "Water heap catch 'em," but all are eager for the 
trial, and off we go. 
