History of the Arkansas Valley, Colorado, Part 79

Author: O.L. Baskin & Co
Publication date: 1881
Publisher: Chicago : O.L. Baskin & Co.
Number of Pages: 1080

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HISTORY OF FREMONT COUNTY.

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which, in subsequent sober senses, makes us faint of heart and dizzy of head. Eager now for still greater horrors of depth, blind to everything but an intolerable desire to behold the most savage of nature's upheavals, the short ride to the Royal Gorge is made with illy concealed impatience. If our first experience upon the brink of the Grand Canon was start- ling, this is absolutely terrifying, and the bravest at the one point become most abject of cowards in comparison at the other. At the first point of observation, the walls, though 0+ 000 frightfully steep, are nevertheless sloping to more or less extent; here at the Royal Gorge they are sheer precipices, as perpendicular as the tallest house, as straight as if built by line. So narrow is the gorge that one would think the throwing of a stone from side to side the easiest of accomplishments, yet no living man has ever done it, or succeeded in throwing any object so that it would fall into the water below.

" Many tourists are content with the appall- ing view from the main walls, but others, more venturesome, work their way six hundred to a thousand feet down the ragged edges of a mountain that has parted and actually slid into the chasm, and, as we have come to see it all, the clamber down must be accomplished. For some distance, we scramble over and be- tween monstrous bowlders, and then reach the narrow and almost absolutely perpendicu- lar crevice of a gigantic mass of rock, down which we must let ourselves a hundred feet or more. As we reach the shelf or ledge of rock upon which the great rock has fallen and been sundered, we glance back, but only for a second-the thought of our daring makes us grow sick and dizzy. But a step or two more and the descent just made sinks into utter insignificance compared to what is be- fore us. Then we had the huge walls of the parted rock as the rails of a staircase; now we have naught but the smooth rounded sur- face of the storm-washed bowlders to cling to, and on either side of our narrow way depths at the bottom of which a man's body could never be discovered with human eye. Behind us, the precipitous rocks over and through which we came; ahead of us, the slender bar- rier of rock overhanging the appalling chasm,

and all there exists between us and it. Cow- ards at heart, pale of face and with painful breath, we slowly crawl on hands and knees to the ledge, and, as the fated murderer feels the knotted noose fall down over his head, so feel we as our eyes extend beyond the rocks to catch one awful glimpse of the eternity of space. Few dare to look more than once, and one glance suffices for a comprehension of the meaning of the word depth never before even dreamed of, and never afterward for- gotten. The gorge is 2,008 feet sheer depth -the most precipitous aud sublime in its proportions of any chasm on the continent. The opposite wall towers hundreds of feet above us, and, if possible to imagine anything more terrifying than the position on this side, that upon the other would be, were its brink safe to approach. Overhanging crags, black and blasted at their summits or bristling with stark and gnarled pines, reach up into pro- foundly dizzy heights, while lower down, mon- strous rocks threaten to topple and carry to destruction any foolhardy climber who would venture upon them. Among all the thousands who have visited the Grand Canon and the Royal Gorge, harm has befallen none, for, despite the seeming horror of the situation, the appalling depths and rugged paths, the fasci- nation of the danger appears to give birth to the greatest caution."

WHAT GRACE GREENWOOD SAYS.

Grace Greenwood is the pet author of Colo- radoans, and has a keener appreciation of the grandeur of Rocky Mountain scenery than any of the American authors. At Manitou, she has a pretty cottage, and each year she comes to spend some time amid the glorious scenery at the base of Pike's Peak, often ex- tending her visits to the wonderful cañons in Fremont County, and to other parts of the mountains. She is a great admirer of Colo- rado, and is always welcomed by the "Pike's Peakers" as their particular favorite, for she invariably has something pretty to say about us when she comes.

The following extract is from her pen. What she will say this season (for all are look- ing for her as soon as the "heated season " commences), when she is drawn by a locomotive

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through the Royal Gorge, will be looked for with more interest than ever before:

" I was lost in a silent joy when I came to look down in that Grand Canon, the greatest sight I have yet seen in Colorado. It is grander than the Yosemite, because of its color, which is everywhere dark, with rich porphyry tints. Looking down upon the river roaring along in a thousand plunging falls, it seems like a lazy river creeping on in the cold shadow. So awful was the chasm, so stupen- dous were the mountain steeps around it, so gloomy were the woods, so strange, and lonely, and savage, and out of the world seemed the whole vast scene, that it recalled to me the passage in the Inferno:

' There is a place within the depth of hell Called Malebolge, all rock, dark stained, With hue ferruginous, e'en as the steep That round it circling winds. Right in the midst Of that abominable region yawns A spacious gulf profound.'

"This great sight ought to draw thousands of tourists to Canon. I am amazed that there is no more said of it and written about it. To me it is infinitely more impressive than Nia- gara. If you, reader, come to Colorado, do not fail to see this cañon. It is next to the great cañon of the Columbia River."

THE BEAUTIFUL GRAPE CREEK CAÑON.

Again we clip from that charming writer, Maj. Pangborn. There are those who say that he has overrated the wonderful beauties of the above-named canon. Not so; for even the most imaginative brain could scarcely guide a pen to exaggerate the beauties of that canon. And-we almost regret to tell it -the peaceful solitude of that beautfiul place is soon to be invaded by the shrill scream of the steam whistle, and the thunders of the ir- repressible, ever-advancing locomotive. Many of the vines from which it takes its name, that hang in beautiful festoons, or crown a hoary old " rock of ages," will be torn from their moorings and trampled under foot, and die. The Grand Canon of the Arkansas is gotten up on such an immense scale that a train of curs rushing through it will not cause much difference in its general appearance. But it will despoil Grape Creek Canon of many of

its beauties. Yet, the beautiful must fall, if necessary, before the useful. There are mill- 'ions upon millions in the mines of Custer County, and they must have a railroad to make it available. This will make all that immense mining region east of and in the Sangre de Christo Range tributary to Canon City. The surveys and plats of the road are already in the office of the company, and only await the proper time to contract for the building. It is an event that will be hailed with joy by the citizens of Canon City, Silver Cliff, Wet Mountain Valley, Rosita, and Custer County generally. Maj. Pangborn says:

"Up with the sun, the bright, clear and bracing air acts upon the frame like cham- pagne, and, in the grandest of spirits, we give rein to the impatient horses and are off at a spanking gait over the hard, smooth and level road. Rattling over the bridge spanning the Arkansas at the city's feet, we speed on through clumps of richly foliaged trees, and in a few moments we are at the entrance of the canon, catching a glimpse, just as we enter between its towering walls, of the Grand Cañon of the Arkansas and the cozy-looking bath-houses at the springs near by. A quick word of wonder at the height and closeness of the walls, a sharp turn of the road, and, looking back, the way is lost by which we came. Here in the solitary mountains we are alone. No world behind; no world before. Turn upon turn, and new walls rise up so abruptly before us as to cause an involuntary cry of terror, soon relieved, however, as our excited senses become more familiar with the new tension upon them. Awe still holds us bonden slaves, but the eye drinks in such beauty as fairly intoxicates the soul. On either hand, the walls loom up until only the slender opal of a narrow strip of sky forms exquisite contrast with the pine-covered heights. Rifled bowlders every now and then wall in the road on the river side, their base washed by the creek, wild and beautiful in its whirl and roar. Here the perpendicular piles of rock are covered with growths of trees that ascend in exact line with the wall, and cast their shadows on the road below. Nature's grapevines trail along the ground and cling around the trunks of the trees, hanging like

HISTORY OF FREMONT COUNTY.

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Arcadian curtains and making bowers of the most exquisite character imaginable. Be- tween these, we catch bewitching glances of the creek, on its merry, tempestuous way to the Arkansas, its sparkling surface throwing back rapid reflections of masses of green fo- liage and trailing vines. Deep pools give back the blue of the cloudless sky, and as base ac- companiments come in the dark shadows of the canon walls, with their sharply drawn ridges and truncated cones. Here and there all along the wild way are rushing cascades, tortuous twists of the stream, gaily lichened or dark, beetling rocks, mossy nooks or glow- ing lawns, and overhead the cottonwoods, mingling their rare autumnal splendors of red and gold with the somber green of pine and cedar. The cañon is beyond question the most beautiful in marvelous coloring, won- drous splendor of foliage, pisturesque cascades and winding streams of any in Colorado. The Grand Canon of the Arkansas is deeper, but it is awful as seen from the only point of view, that from the top, and the sensations caused in strongest of contrast with those ex- perienced in Grape Creek Canon. The walls of the latter are so gorgeous a variety of col- ors as to fairly bewilder with their splendor; red, from the darkest tinge of blood to the most delicate shades of pink; green, from the richest depths to the rarest hues of the emerald; blue, from the opal to the deepest sea, variegated until almost defying the rain- bow to excel in exquisite blending. These glorious transitions of color meet one at every turn, and the contrast formed every now and then by tremendous walls of bare, black rock, or broad seams of iron ore set in red or green, render all the more striking the singular beauty of the canon. Over the walls on either side, the grapevine, from which the cañon takes its name, climbs in wonderfully rich profusion, and in autumn, when the leaves become so delicately tinted, and the vines hang thick with their purple fruit, the effect is something to call to mind, but never to describe. Added to the indescribable beauty of the vines are the many-colored mosses which paint the rocks in infinite variety of hue, ofttimes growing so high and rank as to reach to the very pinnacle of the topmost

rocks, and fringe their craggy brows so lav- ishly as to render them almost symmetrical in appearance, as seen below. At different points, these moss-covered walls rise to the height of a thousand feet, and so completely do they hem one in on all sides, that, with but a slight stretch of the imagination, the place could be viewed from below as a gigantic, moss-covered bucket, but one that never 'hung in the well.'

"Just above Temple Canon, and where Grape Creek enters the canon of its name, the walls are exceedingly high and precipi- tous, and in the coolest nook of their shadows, where sunlight can never reach, is a quiet, placid pool of water, clearer than a crystal, and so faithfully reflecting back the curiously and brilliantly colored rocks overhanging it as to have gained the name of Painted Rock Pool. It is a very gem in itself, and, in its setting and the rare grandeur of the sur- roundings, is well in keeping. Those visiting the canon should not fail to follow up the course of the creek from the point where it debouches into the cañon. It will have to be done on foot, but the wholly unexpected sur- prises of the hour-or-two's ramble will more than repay the exertion. The walls of the sides of the parent canon are fully 1,500 feet in height, and so narrow that the tall pines and cottonwoods keep the gorge in a tender half-light, broken at midday by glaring rays that give a magical charm to the scene. On all sides from points in the walls of rock, tufts of grass and bluebells grow, forming with the grapevines most pleasing pictures in contrast with many-tinted rocks, in the crevices of which their roots have found / nourishment. The walls are of almost as many colors as there are sharp turns in the creek's course, and rare and perfect in beauty is the amphi- theater of black rock, with pearly-white veins running in very direction, the whole over- hung by climbing vines and their pendant berries.

" Just at the entrance to Temple Canon is a little grove of cottonwoods. Their pend- ant, swinging boughs meet in perfect arches overhead, and the profusion of their polished, brilliant leaves renders complete the most charming of bowers in which to take the noon-

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day lunch and prepare for the climb into Temple Canon, which must be done on foot.

TEMPLE CAÑON.

"Temple is a side cañon with entrance from Grape Creek Cañon some four and a half miles from Canon City. The climb is not steep, though rather rough, especially to effect an entrance into the Temple proper, which is to the right of the little canon, and can only be accomplished by clambering over several huge bowlders, which, if removed, would render the illusion of a temple and stairway all the more striking. Once passing in through the great rifts of rock, for all the world like the stairway to some grand place of amusement, the body of the Temple is reached, and, to the tourist's astonishment, before him is a stage with overhanging arch, with " flats " and " flies;" with dressing-rooms on either side, and a scene already set as if for some grand tableau. If so intensely realistic from the parquet, as the broad, circling floor might aptly be termed, or from the parquet or dress- circles, as the higher ledges would suggest, the clamber up to the stage itself renders it all the more so, for there is found ample room for a full dramatic to operatic company to disport upou, while in the perpendicular ledges and caves on either side, twenty-five to thirty people might retire and not be observed from the body of the hall. The stage is at the least thirty feet deep, and some sixty to seventy broad; the arch above, fully one hundred feet from the floor of the canon, the stage itself being about forty feet above the floor. The arch is almost as smooth and per- fectly proportioned as if fashioned by the hand of man, and, during the wet season, the water from a stream above falls in a great, broad sheet over its face to the floor of the canon below. At such times, the effect from the stage of the Temple is, as can be imag- ined, exceedingly fascinating, for there, en- tirely protected from the water, one looks through the silvery sheen out upon the scene below. Upon the rear wall of the stage, quite an aperture has been hewn out by some action, and the shape it is left in is peculiarly sug- gestive of tableaux preparation. Away up in the very highest crevice under the arch, a pair

of eagles have mated for years, and, though most daring efforts have been made to reach the nest, none have succeeded. The coming of visitors is almost invariably the occasion of a flight from the nest, and, breaking in so sud- denly upon the supernatural stillness of the place, is apt to cause a shock to the timid not readily forgotten. There is absolutely not a solitary sign of vegetation about the Temple; all is bleak, bare and towering walls, and a more weird spot to visit cannot possibly be imagined. Coming out of the Temple itself, the tourist should by all means clamber up to one of the lofty pinnacles in the adjoining canon, for the sight from them down upon the mighty masses of rock below, the cottonwoods, the stream in Grape Creek Canon and the lofty walls beyond, is one to be treasured up among the brightest and pleasantest recollections of the tour.

OIL CREEK CAÑON-TALBOT HILL, ETC.

"A couple of miles over a road, the tamest imaginable, after the three miles of down grade, brings us to the base of Curiosity Hill, well named, as is speedily proven by the dis- covery of all sorts of odd and beautiful little specimens of ribbou moss, and linear agate, crystals and the like. The surface of the hill is one vast field of curiosities, and so plentiful and varied are they that even those usually wholly indifferent to such things soon find themselves vieing with the most enthu- siastic in exclamations of delight upon finding some particularly attractive specimen. By blasting, large bodies of the most perfect crystals are obtained, invariably bedded in ribbon agate of the most beautiful colors and shapes, and, polishing readily, they form be- yond all comparison the loveliest of cabinet attractions. Many very valuable specimens of blood agate have been found on Curiosity Hill, and for agates of all hues and forms, it is possibly the most satisfactory field for the specimen-seeker in Southern Colorado. A half-mile from the mouth of the cañón, we come upon the oil wells from which the stream takes its name, and about which its perfect purity is polluted by the petroleum that lies thick upon its surface. Some considerable surface work has been done at the wells in the

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way of boring and the like, and they have been yielding more or less oil for the past seventeen years. Preparations are now being made, however, for boring for flowing wells further south, in the oil basin, the Grand Cañon Coal Company having struck, in De- cember, 1880, at a depth of 1,450 feet, a small basin of lubricating oil of different color and specific gravity, and are now (July, 1881) taking out casing with the intention of sink- ing for the main body, the C. C. I. Co. hav- ing struck gas veins in their borings below the coal measures in May. Beyond the wells on Oil Creek, the road winds around and about in enticing proximity to the stream, and then, leaving it, winds high above, crossing pic- turesque bridges, and finally emerges into the open Garden Park, hemmed in on all sides by ranges of sandstone that show a countless succession of rock sculptures the effect height- ened by the brilliancy and variety of the col- oring. High up on the ridges are the crum- bling ruins of castellated battlements, formi- dable bastions suggestive of frowning guns, lofty and imposing sally ports, portcullis, moats and drawbridges. Great cliffs have fallen, and avalanches of rock have plunged their way down the hillsides; yet here and there and everywhere upon the walls stand the grim battlements, as if defying wind, storm and time. Of the most imposing of these tremendous ruins are the Twin Forts, standing upon the very verge of a precipitous wall of 500 feet of alternate layers of creamy yellow and brilliant red. One looms up one hundred feet or more above the wall, but the other is sadly battered and rapidly crumbling away. Along the walls are numberless towers of rock, worn by the action of the elements into fantastic shapes, and many of them look- ing as if the breath of a child would topple them over. Progressing on through the park, we fancy in each transformation of rock some familiar thing, while the mighty tiers extend- ing toward us ofttimes call vividly to mind the bulwarks of great ships of the sea stranded here to be worn away to dust. Directly ahead of us, as we near the center of the park, we catch full glimpse of new and singular rock sculpture, the entire south end of the park showing tier upon tier of rock so striking in

resemblance to stockades and outlying fortifi- cations as to cause one to involuntarily seek, not only for the colors, but the soldiers defend- ing them. Back of the stockades, stern, dark and cold, rises Signal Mountain, and still back of it, the long, wave-like lines and great, snowy domes of the Sangre de Christo Range, their stupendous proportions dwarfing all be- low into littleness.

MARBLE CAVE.

"Around the sharpest and steepest of curves, a dash across the madly surging stream, and a helter-skelter scamble up a low but exceed- ingly rocky ascent, and we are at the mouth of Marble Cave-so near, in fact, as to barely escape falling into it in looking for it. The ragged, jagged crevice by which the cave is entered is anything but enticing, and the sen- sation experienced as one's head is all there is left above ground is far from the pleasantest. The descent is almost perpendicular for a hundred feet or more, and the staircase formed by the broken ledges on either side of the chasm far from soothing to one's nerves, es- pecially as all the light obtained are the meager shadows which steal through the three- cornered opening above and struggle faintly half way to the bottom of the rift of rocks. Stumbling over unseen bowlders, and barely escaping serious contact with the encompass- ing walls, we grope to the point where our guide has kindled a fire, and find it the inter- section of the two main halls of the cave. The ghastly glare thrown upon the walls by the burning pine chills us to the bone, and a tremulous inspection of the situation adds no warmth. We are in a strange and awful rift in some buried mountain, the walls so narrow that our elbows touch on either side, and so weird and terrific in height, as seen through the heavily rolling smoke as to look ten times the 150 feet our guide informs us is the dis- tance to the roof. The pine burns brighter, the smoke grows thicker, but we press on, now crawling on all-fours into some wondrous chamber of stalactite and stalagmite, and anon tugging up a strand of rope over fright- ful bowlders that have fallen from the dizzy height above to obstruct man in learning the secrets of this awful convulsion of nature.

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We penetrate into Satan's Bower, we look shudderingly into his Punch Bowl, and gasp as we throw ourselves into his Arm Chair. We draw longest of breaths in Queen's Grotto, and shortest when thoughts of the way back over those fearful rocks crowd in and demand consideration. Certainly the clear blue sky was never half so lovely as when we stand under it again. The cave is, as its name im- plies, encompassed by marble walls, and the specimens of marble brought from its inner- most recesses, as seen in the full glare of the sun, are exceedingly beautiful in their mot- tled surface of red and white. The marble is susceptible of the highest and richest polish, and parties in Canon City use it for artistic as well as practical purposes. All about the hill, from the low crest of which the cave is entered, are the finest specimens of jasper, agate and shell rock, and, not far distant, are immense trees, petrified to solid rock, and where broken often showing beautiful veins of agate and crystals.

BONES OF THE MONSTERS.

"Midway in the park, we pull up at the pleasant home of the gentleman who is to show us to the top of Talbot Hill, where Prof. Marsh, of Yale College, and Prof. Cope, of the Academy of Natural Sciences, Philadel- phia, have parties at work exhuming the re- cently discovered bones of animals, compared to which in proportions and importance the mastodon sinks to insignificance. We at once leave the road and make direct for the wall of blood-red rock on the west side of the park, and, a short drive bringing us to its base, we alight. Reaching the summit, the long-drawn breath of relief is half choked by the indescribable magnificence of the view, and for the first time we appreciate the sub- limity and grandeur of the Sangre de Christo Range. A few more steps and we are at the tent of Prof. Cope's party, and all within and without is heaped-up bones-rocks, now-and many of them so perfectly agatized that at a casual glance it would stagger any but a scientist's belief that they were ever covered with flesh. As seen here, however, it is so palpably apparent that the seeming rock and agate are bone as to leave no room for shadow

of doubt. Before us are perfect parts of skele- tons so huge as to prepare one for the belief that Noah's Ark was a myth; sections of ver- tebræ three feet in width; ribs fifteen feet long; thigh bones over six feet in length-and the five or six tons of bones thus far shipped East comprising only the parts of three ani- mals. In one pit, the diameter of the socket of the vertebra measured fifteen inches, width of spinal process forty-one inches, and depth of vertebra twenty-nine inches. In another place, there was a thigh bone six feet and two inches in length; a section of backbone, lying just as the monster rolled over and died, with eleven ribs attached, the backbone twenty feet long and from sixteen to thirty inches deep, and the ribs five to eight feet in length and six inches broad. Just showing upon the sur- face was a thigh bone twenty-two inches in width and thirty inches in length, and near it a nine-foot rib four inches in diameter, a foot wide at six feet, and, where it articulated with the vertebræ, twenty-three and a half inches in width. The entire rib was fifteen feet in length. All over the hill we come upon little piles of broken bones, which will require days of patient labor and skillful handling to properly set in place. The first discovery of the fossils was made in April last, by a young graduate of Oberlin College-Or- mel Lucas-who, teaching a country school in the park five days in the week, spent his Saturdays about the hills hunting deer, and occasionally getting a shot at a grizzly. Im- mediately upon satisfying himself of the char- acter of the discovery, the young man wrote to his old Professor in Ohio, and subsequently to Prof. Cope, of Philadelphia. Hardly had the latter organized his party of exploration before Prof. Marsh had his, under the lead- ership of Prof. Mudge, of Kansas, duly equipped, and by the middle of May both parties were actively engaged excavating, set- ting up and preparing for shipment the bones which Prof. Marsh declares are seven million years old. The first animal discovered was of entirely new genus and species in scientific circles, and was named the camerasaurus su- premus, from the chamber or caverns in the centrum of the vertebrae. Of the first petrifac- tions exhumed was a femur or thigh bone six

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History of the Arkansas Valley, Colorado, Part 79

Author: O.L. Baskin & Co Publication date: 1881 Publisher: Chicago : O.L. Baskin & Co. Number of Pages: 1080

Author: O.L. Baskin & Co
Publication date: 1881
Publisher: Chicago : O.L. Baskin & Co.
Number of Pages: 1080