3o8 
The Colorado River 
flakes, and all beyond a certain line was white fog, up, down, 
and sideways. A halt was imperative, as we knew not which 
way to turn except back, and that was not our direction. De¬ 
scending from our horses we stepped out in the direction of 
the illimitable whiteness, only to find that there was nothing 
there to travel on. The only thing to do was to camp, which 
we did forthwith. By our holding up a blanket at the four 
corners, and chopping some dry wood out of the side of a dead 
Major Powell and a Pai Ute. Southern Utah, 1872. 
Photograph by J. K. Hillers, U. S. Colo. Riv. Exp. 
tree, Andy was able to start a fire, and we waited for atmo¬ 
spheric developments. Presently there were rifts in the white, 
and as we looked we could discern, far, far below our position, 
another land. As the storm broke away more and more, it was 
seen that we had arrived at the edge of a cliff with a sheer drop 
of one thousand feet. At last we were able to go on and 
hunted for a way to descend, which we did not find. Conse¬ 
quently we continued northwards and finally, on the second 
day, met with a waggon-track which we followed, reaching at 
last the edge where the cliff could be descended by way 
