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Updated: June 29, 2025
A bag of flour was jammed against the hole, the boat was loaded, the hatches were battened down, we grasped our oars, and while the Canonita crew held our stern to give us a fair start we pulled straight out as hard as we could to clear a huge rock just below, upon which the current was fiercely dashing.
The Canonita went on the wrong side of one, and we held our breath, for it seemed as if she could not retrieve her position in the dividing current, but she did. As we approached the head of the island our keel bumped several times on the rocks, while the current changed from the simple dividing line and ran everywhere.
Filling her with sand to keep her from "drying" to pieces we left her, feeling sure the party which was to come after her the next spring would find her safe. She was forty feet above low water. We now went ahead with good speed, leaving as much work as possible for the prospective Canonita party to perform.
On the 14th, the boats, Emma Dean and Canonita, were in readiness, and we loaded and took them down a mile and a half to the point near where the road came in from Kanab, whence our final departure would be made as soon as Powell, who needed a little extra time for arranging his papers and general affairs, should say the word.
At long intervals a pot of Andy's rare bean-soup was added to the feast. It was necessary, therefore, to push on with all haste, or we would be starving. The Canonita was consequently taken out and "cached" under a huge rock which had fallen against the cliff, forming a natural house.
Getting out cautiously over the stern he succeeded in touching the top of the rock, and, thus lightened, the Dean shot forward, though not before Hillers, who had not let go of the stern rowlock, was able to leap on board. The Canonita fared still worse. Following us too close, she tried to pass, but struck another rock, crushing in her side, though floating down nevertheless.
Bean soup, such as Andy made, is one of the most delicious things in the world; and Delmonico could not hold a candle to his coffee. Our three boats bore the names Emma Dean, after Mrs. Powell, Nellie Powell, after Major Powell's sister, Mrs. Thompson, and Canonita.
We crossed through a pass, and on the 22d, after pursuing a winding and difficult road through canyons, succeeded in getting the whole train down to the Colorado a short distance below the mouth of the Dirty Devil. The Colorado was high, and swept along majestically. We found it had been up as far as the Canonita, and had almost washed away one of the oars.
The Canonita, forewarned, was able to let down to this place, from whence we made a portage to the bottom the next morning.
We were still about fifteen feet from the beach, but the water was not any deeper than the grating of the keel indicated, so we were overboard in a moment and pulled her to the bank. At the same instant the Canonita ran in, dashing up like a horse finishing a race. The crew reported the other boat upside down, but they were unable to stop to help her.
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