CATARACT CANON. 61 
July 22. This morning, we continue our journey, though short of oars. 
There is no timber growing on the walls within our reach, and no drift wood 
along the banks, so we are compelled to go on until something suitable can 
be found. A mile and three quarters below, we find a huge pile of drift 
wood, among which are some co^tonwood logs. From these we select one 
which we think the best, and the men are set at work sawing oars. Our 
boats are leaking again, from the strains received in the bad rapids yester 
day, so, after dinner, they are turned over, and some of the men are engaged 
in calking them. 
Captain Powell and I go out to climb the wall to the east, for we can 
see dwarf pines above, and it is our purpose to collect the resin which oozes 
from them, to use in pitching our boats. We take a barometer with us, and 
find that the walls are becoming higher, for now they register an altitude, 
above the river, of nearly fifteen hundred feet. 
July 23. On starting, we come at once to difficult rapids and falls, that, 
in many places, are more abrupt than in any of the canons through which 
we have passed, and we decide to name this Cataract Canon. 
From morning until noon, the course of the river is to the west; the 
scenery is grand, with rapids and falls below, and walls above, beset with 
crags and pinnacles. Just at noon we wheel again to the south, and go into 
camp for dinner. 
While the cook is preparing it, Bradley, Captain Powell, and myself 
go up into a side canon, that comes in at this point. We enter through a very 
narrow passage, having to wade along the course of a little stream until a 
cascade interrupts our progress. Then we climb to the right, for a hundred 
feet, until we reach a little shelf, along which we pass, walking with great 
care, for it is narrow, until we pass around the fall. Here the gorge widens 
into a spacious, sky roofed chamber. In the farther end is a beautiful grove 
of cottonwoods, and between us and the cottonwoods the little stream widens 
out into three clear lakelets, with bottoms of smooth rock. Beyond the cot 
tonwoods, the brook tumbles, in a series of white, shining cascades, from 
heights that seem immeasurable. Turning around, we can look through 
the cleft through which we came, and see the river, with towering walls 
beyond. What a chamber for a resting place is this! hewn from the solid 
