In all this run through Glen Canyon we had a good current, but only
one place resembling a rapid. Here, below the Escalante, it was very
quiet, and hard pulling was necessary to make any headway. We were
anxious to reach the San Juan River that evening, but the days were
growing short, and we were still many miles away when it began to grow
dusk; so we kept a lookout for a suitable camp. The same conditions
that had bothered us on one or two previous occasions were found here;
slippery, muddy banks, and quicksand, together with an absence of
firewood. We had learned before this to expect these conditions where
the water was not swift. The slower stream had a chance to deposit its
silt, and if the high water had been very quiet, we could expect to
find it soft, or boggy. In the canyons containing swift water and
rapids we seldom found mud, but found a firm sand, instead. Here in
Glen Canyon we had plenty of mud, for the river had been falling the
last few days. Time and again we inspected seemingly favourable
places, only to be disappointed. The willows and dense shrubbery came
down close to the river; the mud was black, deep, and sticky; all
driftwood had gone out on the last flood. Meanwhile a glorious full
moon had risen, spreading a soft, weird light over the canyon walls
and the river; so that we now had a light much better than the dusk of
half an hour previous, our course being almost due south. Finally,
becoming discouraged, we decided to pull for the San Juan River,
feeling sure that we would find a sand-bar there.
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