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| Major Powell's 1871 crew posed for a group photo at the Green River put in.* |
"By great good fortune I became a member of the second expedition. Scores of men were turned away, disappointed. The party was a small one, and it was full. We were to begin our voyage through the chain of great canyons, at the same point where the first expedition started, the point where the recently completed Union Pacific Railway crossed Green River in Wyoming, and we arrived there from the East early on the morning of April 29, 1871. We were all ravenous after the long night on the train and breakfast was the first consideration, but when this had re-established our energy we went to look for the flat car with our boats which had been sent ahead from Chicago. The car was soon found on a siding and with the help of some railroad employés we pushed it along to the eastern end of the bridge over Green River and there, on the down side, put the boats into the waters against whose onslaughts they were to be our salvation. It was lucky perhaps that we did not pause to ponder on the importance of these little craft; on how much depended on their staunchness and stability; and on our possible success in preventing their destruction. The river was high from melting snows and the current was swift though ordinarily it is not a large river at this point. This season had been selected for the start because of the high water, which would tide us over the rocks till tributary streams should swell the normal volume; for our boats were to be well loaded, there being no chance to get supplies after leaving. We had some trouble in making a landing where we wanted to, in a little cove on the east side about half a mile down, which had been selected as a good place for our preparatory operations. Here the three boats were hauled out to receive the final touches. They were named Emma Dean, Nellie Powell, and Cañonita. A space was cleared in the thick willows for our general camp over which Andy was to be master of ceremonies, at least so far as the banqueting division was concerned, and here he became initiated into the chemistry necessary to transform raw materials into comparatively edible food. But it was not so hard a task, for our supplies were flour, beans, bacon, dried apples, and dried peaches, tea and coffee, with, of course, plenty of sugar. Canned goods at that time were not common, and besides, would have been too heavy. Bread must be baked three times a day in the Dutch oven, a sort of skillet of cast iron, about three inches deep, ten or twelve inches in diameter, with short legs, and a cast-iron cover with a turned-up rim that would hold hot coals. We had no other bread than was made in this oven, or in a frying-pan, with saleratus and cream of tartar to raise it. It was Andy's first experience as a cook, though he had been a soldier in the Civil War, as had almost every member of the party except the youngest three, Clem, Frank, and myself, I being the youngest of all.
For sleeping quarters we were disposed in two vacant wooden shanties about two hundred yards apart and a somewhat greater distance from the cook-camp. These shanties were mansions left over, like a group of roofless adobe ruins near by, from the opulent days of a year or two back when this place had been the terminus of the line during building operations. Little remained of its whilom grandeur; a section house, a railway station, a number of canvas-roofed domiciles, Field's "Outfitting Store," and the aforesaid shanties in which we secured refuge, being about all there was of the place. The region round about suggested the strangeness of the wild country below, through the midst of which led our trail. Arid and gravelly hills met the eye on all sides, accentuated by huge buttes and cliffs of brilliant colours, which in their turn were intensified by a clear sky of deep azure. In the midst of our operations, we found time to note the passing of the single express train each way daily. These trains seemed very friendly and the passengers gazed wonderingly from the windows at us and waved handkerchiefs. They perceived what we were about by the sign which I painted on cloth and fastened across the front of our house, which was near the track: "Powell's Colorado River Exploring Expedition." Above this was flying our general flag, the Stars and Stripes.
The white boats were thoroughly gone over with caulking-iron and paint. Upon the decks of the cabins, canvas, painted green, was stretched in such a way that it could be unbuttoned at the edges on three sides and thrown back when we wanted to take off the hatches. When in place this canvas kept the water, perfectly, out of the hatch joints. Each boat had three compartments, the middle one being about four feet long, about one-fifth the length of the boat, which was twenty-two feet over the top. Two places were left for the rowers, before and abaft the middle compartment, while the steersman with his long oar thrust behind was to sit on the deck of the after-cabin, all the decks being flush with the gunwale, except that of the forward cabin the deck of which was carried back in a straighter line than the sheer of the boat and thus formed a nose to help throw off the waves. It was believed that when the hatches were firmly in place and the canvases drawn taut over the decks, even if a boat turned over, as was expected sometimes might be the case, the contents of these cabins would remain intact and dry. As so much depended on keeping our goods dry, and as we knew from Powell's previous experience that the voyage would be a wet one, everything was carefully put in rubber sacks, each having a soft mouth inside a double lip with a row of eyelets in each lip through which ran a strong cord. When the soft mouth was rolled up and the bag squeezed, the air was forced out, and the lips could be drawn to a bunch by means of the cord. When in this condition the bag could be soaked a long time in water without wetting the contents. Each rubber bag was encased in a heavy cotton one to protect it; in short, we spared no effort to render our provisions proof against the destroying elements. At first we put the bacon into rubber, but it spoiled the rubber and then we saw that bacon can take care of itself, nothing can hurt it anyhow, and a gunny-sack was all that was necessary. Though the boats were five feet in the beam and about twenty-four inches in depth, their capacity was limited and the supplies we could take must correspond. Each man was restricted to one hundred pounds of baggage, including his blankets. He had one rubber bag for the latter and another for his clothing and personal effects. In the provision line we had twenty-two sacks of flour of fifty pounds each. There was no whiskey, so far as I ever knew, except a small flask containing about one gill which I had been given with a ditty-bag for the journey. This flask was never drawn upon and was intact till needed as medicine in October. Smoking was abandoned, though a case of smoking tobacco was taken for any Indians we might meet. Our photographic outfit was extremely bulky and heavy, for the dry plate had not been invented. We had to carry a large amount of glass and chemicals, as well as apparatus.
Green River City, now Green River, the third place of the same name in Wyoming, was founded with the arrival of the railroad in 1868 when the area was still a part of Dakota Territory. The first business was that of Jake Field who operated a store, hotel and rstaurant, as depicted in the next photo. Field, along with H. M. Hook, previously mayor of Cheyenne, and James Moore, anticipated that the railroad would establish a division point there. Unfortunately, the three forgot that the railroad was essentially a real estate business. Its division points were located in towns established by it, such as Cheyenne, Laramie City, and later Evanston, where the railroad would reap the benefits of lots sales, not third persons. Thus, while the railroad was passing through, Green River City grew to an estimated 2,000. The population precipitously dropped to less that 150.
Source:
http://www.wyomingtalesandtrails.com/photos4.html
"This Place, when the railway was building, had been for a considerable time the terminus and a town of respectable proportions had grown up, but with the completion of the road through this region, the terminus moved on, and now all that was to be seen of those golden days was a group of adobe walls, roofless and forlorn. The present 'City' consisted of about thirteen houses, and some of these were of such complex construction that one hesitates whether to describe them as houses with canvas roofs, or tents with board sides."
Finally all of our preparations were completed to the last detail. The cabins of the boats were packed as one packs a trunk. A wooden arm-chair was obtained from Field and fastened to the middle deck of our boat by straps, as a seat for the Major, and to the left side of it—he had no right arm—his rubber life-preserver was attached. Each man had a similar life-preserver in a convenient place, and he was to keep this always ready to put on when we reached particularly dangerous rapids. On the evening of the 21st of May nothing more remained to be done. The Second Powell Expedition was ready to start.
The 22d of May, 1871, gave us a brilliant sun and a sky of sapphire with a sparkling atmosphere characteristic of the Rocky Mountain Region. The great buttes near the station, which Moran has since made famous, shone with a splendour that was inspiring. To enable us to pick up the last ends more easily and to make our departure in general more convenient, we had breakfast that morning at Field's outfitting place, and an excellent breakfast it was. It was further distinguished by being the last meal that we should eat at a table for many a month. We were followed to the cove, where our loaded boats were moored, by a number of people; about the whole population in fact, and that did not make a crowd. None of the Chinamen came down, and there were no Indians in town that day. The only unpleasant circumstance was the persistent repetition by a deaf-mute of a pantomimic representation of the disaster that he believed was to overwhelm us. "Dummy," as we called him, showed us that we would be upset, and, unable to scale the cliffs, would surely all be drowned. This picture, as vividly presented as possible, seemed to give him and his brother great satisfaction. We laughed at his prophecy, but his efforts to talk were distressing. It may be said in excuse for him, that in some paddling up the river from that point, he had arrived at perhaps an honest conviction of what would happen to any one going below; and also, that other wise men of the town predicted that we would never see "Brown's Hole," at the end of Red Canyon.
At ten o'clock we pushed out into the current. There were "Good-bye and God-speed" from the shore with a cheer, and we responded with three and then we passed out of sight. The settlement, the railway, the people, were gone; the magnificent wilderness was ours.
Source of text narratives:
https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/20667/pg20667-images.html
The site of Major Powell's put in for both the 1869 and 1871 river trips is a Green River tourist attraction no known as Expedition Island. There is a well developed interpretive trail and other facilities. It is going to be very interesting to see just how "accurate" the interp resources are.
Major Powell is celebrated in Green River. He even has his own statue in front of the Sweetwater County Museum.
*This article draws on several sources. Most of the photos are credited to E.O. Beaman and may be found at the Library of Congress. It's easier to search for all of Beaman's photos that it is to give you pinks to each individual photo. The other photos are from a website called "Wyoming Tales and Trails". The bulk of the text was copied from an online edition of "A Canyon Voyage" by Frederick Samuel Dellenbaugh.
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