256 
The Colorado River 
by night we had made only three or four miles, and camped at 
the beginning of a decidedly forbidding stretch. Just below 
us were three sharp rapids which received the name of Triplet 
Falls. A great deal of work was required to pass these, and 
then we ran three or four in good style, which brought us, in 
the late afternoon, to where the whole river spread out amongst 
innumerable rocks and for more than half a mile the water was 
a solid sheet of milky foam, sending up the usual wild roar, 
which echoed and echoed again and again amongst the cliffs 
around and above us. Some one proposed the name of “ Hell’s 
Half-Mile” for this terrible place and the idea was at once 
adopted, so appropriate did it seem. The turmoil of the dash¬ 
ing waters was almost deafening, and, even when separated by 
only a few feet, we could only communicate with each other 
by shouting at the top of our lungs. It was a difficult task to 
get our little ships safely below this half-mile, but it was finally 
accomplished, and on we went in search of the next dragon’s 
claw. At our camp the fire in some way got into a pine 
grove and soon was crackling enough to rival the noise of the 
rapid. The lower region seemed now to be sending its flames 
up through the bottom of the gorge and the black smoke 
rolled into the sky far above the top of the walls. Many and 
varied were our experiences in this magnificent canyon, which 
for picturesqueness and beauty rivals even the Grand Canyon, 
though not on such a giant scale. Its passage would probably 
be far easier at low water. At last, one evening, as the soft 
twilight was settling into the chasm, a strange, though agree¬ 
able silence, that seemed almost oppressive, fell around us. 
The angry waters ceased their roaring. We slid along on a 
smooth, even river, and suddenly emerged into a pretty little 
park, a mile long, bounded by cliffs only some six hundred 
feet high. Running our boats up into the mouth of a quiet 
river entering from the left we tied them up and were quickly 
established in the most comfortable camp since Brown’s Park. 
We were at the mouth of Yampa River. From a wonderful 
echo which repeated a sentence of ten words, we called the 
place Echo Park. Such an echo in Europe would be worth a 
fortune. The Echo Rock is shown on page 203. 
