These tracks were doubtless made by
some of the many wild burros that roam all the lower plateaus in the
upper end of the Grand Canyon.
After a careful inspection of the Hance Rapid we were glad the signal
fire was not built. It was a nasty rapid. While reading over our notes
one evening we were amused to find that we had catalogued different
rapids with an equal amount of fall as "good," "bad," or "nasty," the
difference depending nearly altogether on the rocks in the rapids. The
"good rapids" were nothing but a descent of "big water," with great
waves,--for which we cared little, but rather enjoyed if it was not
too cold,--and with no danger from rocks; the "bad rapids" contained
rocks, and twisting channels, but with half a chance of getting
through. A nasty rapid was filled with rocks, many of them so
concealed in the foam that it was often next to impossible to tell if
rocks were there or not, and in which there was little chance of
running through without smashing a boat. The Hance Rapid was such a
one.
Such a complication of twisted channels and protruding rocks we had
not seen unless it was at Hell's Half Mile. It meant a
portage--nothing less--the second since leaving that other rapid in
Lodore. So we went to work, carrying our duffle across deep, soft
sand-dunes, down to the middle of the rapid, where quieted for a
hundred yards before it made the final plunge. The gathering dusk of
evening found all material and one boat at this spot, with the other
one at the head of the rapid, to be portaged the next day.
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