Around the mounds the ground is stripped bare by the
busy ants, who remove every particle of vegetation in a radius of two or
three feet.
Desert Rains. If it is early summer when you ride over this region, do not
be deceived by the barrenness of the thirsty country (as you leave the
cedars), and the dry, cloudless sky, and imagine that it never rains. I
have been here in the midst of such rain storms as I have rarely
experienced elsewhere. When the showers do fall, they often come with a
fullness that is as distressing as is the want of water during the dry
season.
Red Butte. Twenty-nine miles out, near the station of Valle, is the big
bridge, some fifty feet high and three hundred feet long, over a branch of
the Spring Valley Wash; and here Red Butte becomes a prominent landmark on
the right. This is known to the Havasupai Indians as Hue-ga-da-wi-za, the
Mountain of the Clenched Fist, for this is its appearance when seen at
certain angles. It is a remnant of the Permian sandstone that once covered
the whole Grand Canyon region, and its brilliant red, when illuminated by
the vivid Arizona sun, explains why for so many years it has been a
prominent landmark of the plateau. It stands boldly forth on the eastern
edge of what was undoubtedly once a portion of the vast Eocene lake, the
drainage way of which helped to cut down the Canyon we are so soon to see.
Interesting stories might be told of Red Butte and its region. The
Havasupais have a tradition that many years ago a large spring of water
flowed from near its base, but in the great convulsion of nature which
changed the current of the waters of Havasu Creek the spring disappeared,
and never has been seen since. The presence of a number of quaking aspens
in the region, however, denotes that water is still there. It also has been
claimed that documents on file in Tucson prove that silver mining was
extensively carried on here as early as the year 1650.
Prehistoric Lake. At the twenty-eighth mile post, we have left the cedars
behind, and until we strike Anita junction only a few scraggly, solitary
trees are to be seen. We are on the edge of the great prehistoric lake. The
country is seamed with small, rocky gorges, which we cross. They are
sometimes lined with scrub-brush, and made beautiful by many colored
flowers. All these "draws" are tributary to Havasu (Cataract) Creek, but
it is interesting to remember that most of them convey the drainage water
away from the rim of the Grand Canyon until, by the subterranean channel
before referred to, the stream is taken back to the Havasu Canyon and soon,
deep, deep, deep down, some five thousand feet below the rim, is ejected
into the muddy Colorado River.
The First Sight of the Canyon. A glance out of the right window will now
show one a portion of the north wall of the Canyon. It is a fairly level
stretch of wall running east and west, though there is a break in it, and
then an uprising curve, as if the crust here had received a lateral thrust
strong enough to break and then "buckle" it up from east to west.
Crossing the Red Horse Wash, known to the Havasupais as Ha-i-ga-sa-jul-ga,
the line reaches Anita Junction. Here a spur three miles long connects the
main line with the copper mines of the Anita Consolidated Company, for
which the railway originally was built. The grade of the spur was so
engineered that the loaded cars of ore from the mine (when in operation)
are brought down by gravity.
Coconino Forest. A few miles further on, the railway enters a country of
pine and juniper, a stately prelude to the majesties and grandeurs of the
Kohonino (Coconino) Forest. Here it seems as if one were suddenly
transported to England, and were passing through a succession of landed
estates, without, however, finding the accompanying mansions. Aisles of
stately trees, nature planted and grown, yet as perfectly in line as if set
with mathematical precision, lead the eye into open glades where deer and
antelope move to and fro, and where one looks instinctively for the bold
facade of an historic building, or the battlemented towers of some romantic
castle.
Arrival at El Tovar. Now, bearing off in a westerly direction, the railway
leaves the Kohonino Wash, and soon crosses a divide beyond which, to the
left, may be seen the house at Bass. This is a flag-station for Bass Camp.
A mile or so further, and a wash opens to the left. This leads to Rowe's
Well (Ha-ha-wai-i-the-qual-ga), where the chief ranger of the Forest
Reserve has his home. Another four miles of steady upgrade, and the whistle
of the engine denotes that Grand Canyon is reached. Here, in addition to El
Tovar, Bright Angel Camp, the powerhouse, and the buildings of the
transportation department, are a postoffice, photograph gallery and several
buildings for employees of the railroad, rangers, etc., so that there is
quite a little settlement.
The main attractions, however, are the Canyon and El Tovar, the hotel
itself being so unique and picturesque as to require a separate chapter for
its description.
CHAPTER III. El Tovar And Its Equipments
Location of El Tovar. The West has several unique and picturesque hotels,
but I question whether it possesses one more so than that bearing the name
of the gallant Spanish cavalier, Coronado's lieutenant, the Ensign Tovar.
Built upon the very edge of the Canyon, in latitude 35 degrees 55 minutes
30 seconds, it is the arc of a rude curve of an amphitheatre, the walls of
which are slightly higher than the elevation of the hotel.
