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Show result of something that had been in progress for eternity. Often they had friendly, amusing faces that I could touch and I had ceased to look the river as mere adventure, no upon matter the new and different side canyons, trails, waterfalls, ruins, petroglyphs, pictographs, springs, arches, domes and alcoves. I was learning how miracles turn real. Historically, I was at 'a pause in the river's occupation mining was done, the people-crunc- h not yet underway; there was time to form an alliance. I wasn't in a hurry; neither was the river. In Glen Canyon he rested, seemed almost in a coma which gave me time to put thought behind what I was seeing, time to engrave it on my memory screen. - Afternoon - July 18 - Day 2 My senses undergo a changing of the guard when I return to nature to the river. Freed from smoke, smog and city gasses. I'm able to separate and. identify animal scents, the meaning of a shift in the wind by its whisper in my ear, its brush on my skin after twilight, after dark. Such things matter here. Like a wind bom smell that will evince the kind of weather well have. Hearing and sight followed the same pattern; even the sense of touch is more sensitive and my bare feet have a tougher sole which actually lets them feel more, now that they're no longer sore. I row now and then, learning to read the water. Short chop, long chop, diagonals, swirls and ripples tell what's underneath. . . sometimes. . . until the inevitable upstream wind wipes the lesson off the water. Ill never be like Jim and Frank; they can read with their ears not being able to see even two inches below the surface doesn't bother them. Ahead, I see some water that puzzles me. I roll off the deck to feel with my hands, or feet, what makes the surface act that way. - - Afternoon July 19 Day 3 MUD. The river's ultimate and most refined element, his favorite toy thick, thin, smooth, rubbery, cool, warm, downy and Why do I like mud so much? Aside from the medicinal fact that it pulls the fire of sunburn out of your skin for many hours after treatment, a pain-killdiscovered by the Old Ones, as well as a cosmetic and curative, a potter's element, a paint, building material, used in games, wars and who knows what else? there's something else about being all wrapped up in mud, something to do with our mysterious beginnings. Didn't we crawl out of this stuff somewhere along the pure-smellin- g. er information thafs found in journals and books about the miners and other folks who ran the canyon. Danny asks. Then are these guys important to the history of the river? Yeah, I tell him, most of them... except these two assholes down here. I point to some gaudy, chipped in names dated only last year and ask Jim if we can obliterate them? Lets! There's a weatherproof cairn with a notebook right here, and plenty of other such ledgers all thru Glen for anyone who cares to be noted. No need to decorate the walls. This place got a name, Sy asks Jim? Some people call it Leper's Cave - to sort of distinguish it from outlaw (Galloway) cave, downstream a ways. About four miles above Lee's Ferry it begins to rain and my movie friends Idnda glum up. Suddenly Jimmy starts singing, jumps up on the stem of the boat and before long gets everybody laughing and dancing on the decks, acting like they don't want the rain to stop. Then we get a theatrical performance, with sound effects, that brings the curtain down to thunderous applause! Colors deepen under the rain. High, sheer walls seem to suck color into their flesh. Then, from their tops pour a hundred silver veils from rim to river... a thousand foot drop!... the walls glisten under a late western sun, turning the veils to fluttering pink tinsel... Thunder rolls... booms... crashes against the cliffs, sounding and resounding up and down the canyon... water falling from so high makes its own kind of thunder... the river turns a dark red... scummy... swirling... mean looking. Everyone's in high spirits as we nose into Lee's Ferry and the rain stops. Syl, Danny and Sy have had the vacation of their lives. They've never known anyone like Jim before unflappable, funny and ingenious, he turns every sticky moment into a laugh or a song. When a guide has that special knack, if s worth all the gold in Glen. Goodbye, Muddy River, until next year. Copyright 1998 by Katie Lee from her book AU My Rivers Are Gone: A Journey of Discovery Through Glen Canyon, to be published in the Fall of 1998 by Johnson Books, Boulder, Colorado. Katie Lee's company. Katydid Books and Records, will be publishing a CDcassette of Katie reading excerpts from the book and singing some of her Colorado River songs, including the infamous "The Bureau Song." Wreck-the-Nati- on evolutionary line? Didn't we live in it, belly up to it for a longer time than we've walked on these funny sticks? It gives me the feeling of being a part of the pure Earth, and smelling like it too. The Names the names the names. Ros was the first one of Nevills' party to discover it They lunched at its mouth one day and while the others were napping she took off to investigate. It got a little dicey for her taste, narrower and more profound, so she went back to wake one of the men passengers to come with her. Together they walked about three miles until it ended in a crevasse an exit for ravens only. They decided to call it The Devil's Corkscrew, but Norm, who liked doing the naming jobs himself (even Catacombs wouldn't do), insisted on Labyrinth, though there's a repeat in the lower Grand. It isn't a labyrinth. You can't get lost - one way in, one way out, but simple 'walking is not the mode of locomotion. JOIN THE GLEN CANYON INSTITUTE For more information call (801) or write: 476 East Temple 154 Salt Lake City. UT 84111 579-332- 2 infoglcncanyonjorg - July 24 If you have ever had a hard day on the trail, a hard workout or are visited by sore joints and muscles, you need this product. Made from 100 natural plant extracts, this gel is formulated from American Indian medicines which they have used for centuries. For questions or to order, call or - Lost Day -- 1954 More of Sy's fish for breakfast this morning, his last catch. Going on down we see something that looks like petroglyphs in a shallow arched cave back behind some willows on the right bank (Mile 21.8). Petroglyphs and histoglyphs. Many, many names, some indistinguishable; the cave must have had a floor at one time a lot higher than it is now for the names to be scratched and carved here. And there's campfire blackening six feet above our heads. Historic names, for sure! They date way back, the oldest, G.M Wright (relation of Frank's?), Nov. 18, 1892 and J.C Tipson, same date; were they together? The names are for apart; one Thompson (probably (Ail.) Feb. 28, 1901, who was with Pbwell on his second (1872) trip, (and came back again, just for fun? Sure, why not? We do) R. Monnett, Nov. 1907 - of Russell & Monnett's documented trip that left Green River in September of that year in two steel boats. The Kolb Brothers who did the surveys for the And a charcoaled bnghomed cow's head that looks to maps, all their dates, be fading away. All that and much more. Sylvia taps me on the shoulder. Pbkie, why'er you writing all this down? Cause I can't photograph it, too dark in here. But why? She insists. You said you liked this canyon for its mystery, and all the things you had to guess about. Well, dearie, these inscriptions don't throw much light on the mysteries. Jimmy adds, No, they just sorta validate a lot of - 1911-21,23,2- write: Glo Germ Company, 150 E. 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