BEING STRAY NOTES OF FIVE YEARS OF TRAVEL.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XL, Issue 19, 6 May 1908, Page 30

BEING STRAY NOTES OF FIVE YEARS OF TRAVEL.

By

WINIFRED H. LEYS, AUCKLAND.

AMERICA’S TWO GREATEST CANYONS.

IL—GRAND CANYON OE ARIZONA. HE trail of the great steam nionj ster across the desert of Arizona, across the red sandy plains M where no grass is visible and only a tufty sage plant, a diminutive yucca, ami a cactus manage to live, is forlorn ami depressing. At the queerest mining hamlet of Williams, that deserted village whose every second building is a beer-shop ami whose only claim for distinction lies in the unique sign board that swings over one. such den and which proclaims to the world at large that it is a “Life saving station and

Thirst Parlour," we left the main line and branched toward the Canyon. For eleven months there had been no rain in Arizona, and then there came so much rain that the railway lines were washed away, causing much trouble and expense. and often delaying a train for several days. We could only creep along the Canyon line, which had suffered severely, but we had more luck than the passengers of a train two days previously, when the carriages were upset and the unfortunate occupants hauled out through the windows. The hotel clock was pointing to a quarter to eight when we reached our

destination, all covered with snow and just four hours after our expected time of arrival. El Tovar is (plaint to be sure! Following the old log-cabin idea, the inside* of the great hall and also of the diningroom are lined with huge tree stumps partially stained. Down the centre of the entrance hall art* great tree trunks reaching from floor to ceiling ami acting as supports for the roof. Round tin* walls hang Indian paintings; over the entrance door and at the far end of the hall art* huge elk and bison heads; on

the floors are brilliantly coloured Indian blankets, and even the electric lights are fastened to swinging logs of wood. When I awakened next morning I hopped out of bed and opened the shutters of my window’, gazing out on a scene such as I had never before beheld. The Grand Canyon with its huge red precipices was not visible thougn only a a few' yards away, but every tree was white with snow', and huge icicles a foot long hung from the edge of the verandah. As I leant out of the window' the snowflakes fell on my head and shoulders, and the ground was thick and white with it. It took me ages to dress that morning, as I was continually returning to the window to look at the wonderful snow-scene. Afl er breakfast, as the snow had ceased f illing somewhat, we walked outside. The Grand Canyon, shrouded in mist a few yards away, interested me not a whit. I wanted to walk in the snow' and shake the trees until great masses of snow fell from their overburdened limbs. There wasn’t a tiny scrap of earth to be seen, and not a leaf on the big trees but was thickly coated white; nothing could have been more beautiful. The snow on the ground in the pine forest of Yosemite had enchanted me, but here the trees with their drooping snow-laden branches made the scene a thousand times more wonderful, a thousand times more beautiful to my unaccustomed eyes. Walking to the Canyon's edge, we found the mist too great for us to see far into its mighty depths, so we spent most of the dav in the Indian House,

where th<* Hopi Indians are employed weaving blankets and making pottery and baskets, all of Indian design, and made by the primitive Indian methods. The snow’ continuing all day. we saw nothing of tin* Canyon, but the next day dawned clear and sunny and the snow fast melted away. We breakfasted early, and the ladies rigged in a similar divided skirt to that I had worn up at Yosemite, we were soon on our mules descending the Canyon trail. Since that memorable day 1 have

groped among the writings of those who have felt the influence of the Canyon, but none, no not one, seems capable of putting into words an impression of what the Canyon really looks like. Notiling one has ever heard, or seen, or thought of. affords a basis of comparison. It is the queerest, hugest, most awe-inspiring work of nature imaginable, and even while one is there standing on its brink or winding down the trail to the rushing Colorado River, its meaning and the wherefore of it remains shroud ed in a mystery impenetrable by human minds. In tin centre of that great Arizona desert suddenly the earth is rent by an awful, enormous crack. Not a simple widening of the earth, but a gap which measures thirteen miles from brim to brim, end between those almost razor edges the earth is. for 217 miles, broken into all manner of queer shaped mountain ranges and ranges of the most uncanny hills the eye ever rested upon. Peep, deep down. 6.000 feet below, through the heart of this terrible Canyon rushes the mighty, muddy Colorado In and out the trail wound, at one time bringing us above a great precipice, then slowly but surely our mules followed its winding course down. down, down until we were looking up the face of the same rock on the summit of which we had been standing some short time before. AVe were below this one ’tis true, but only on a level with another rocky cliff or range of similar cliffs extendinig for miles—before, to left, and to right of us. Our goal was the ( olorado River, so for four hours our splendid sturdy mules carried us down, down, and ever down. From the brim of the Canyon one obtains the best bird’s eye view of the ranges of coloured hills, but only by descending the trail does a realisation of the stupendous depth creep in on one, and then the mind is assailed by a veryreal and human fear of the stupendous power that must have been at work when the placid face of the desert was torn and rent and cast about in this awful manner. While its hugeness and queerness is impressive the deep colours of the rocks add much to the peculiar effect. For the first few hundred feet below the brim the rocks are yellow. next comes a strata

of crimson rock ami then the black gra nite, so when the sun shines into tin* (an yon a startlingly brilliant picture is formed. We lunched beside the swirling Colorado River. into the muddy waters of which all tin* Americans of tin* party • lipped their hands for luck; and then began our five hours' ascent of the trail. Each time we paused to rest our mules fresh exclamations of wonder were heard from all lips. I think most of us agreed with the man who. at one of the pauses, turned to me saying: ’Each time we stop I reckon this is the best view, yet when we get on to the next stop it looks grander than before.” •‘You see we are only beginning to grasp it.” some one answered. “I guess you're right, only we’ll never grasp it.” he replied. And he was right. We didn't grasp all nor anything like all th* wonder of it. But there was a strange weird stillness about it all. a lack of all animal or vegetable life, that was almost terrify ing. and then* came over me more than once a powerful foreboding of danger, such as animals are said to feel before an earthquake; making me desire to hasten away out of tin* uncanny place. So though the (hand Canyon is larger ami a thousand times grander. I felt in my heart I liked the Yosemite Valiev, with its winding Merced River, its delightful waterfalls and high protecting walls, best. Next Week— THREE GREAT \MERICAN (HIES. J.—Chicago.