SELECTION 1

The Party Has Reached This Point in Safety

Camp at the Mouth of Niutah, June 29, 1869.

Dr. Edwards:

My Dear Sir: The party has reached this point in safety, having run four canyons, of about twenty-five miles in length each, the walls of which were from 2,000 to 2,800 feet hight [sic]. We found falls and dangerous rapids, when we were compelled to make portages of rations, etc., and let the boats down with lines. We wrecked one of our boats and lost about one-third of our supplies and part of the instruments.

The instruments were duplicated, but the loss of rations will compel us to shorten the time for the work. You will perceive an account of our trip more in detail in the Chicago Tribune, as I shall send some letters to it for publication. In the wreck I lost my papers, and have to use plant dryers for my letter paper. I have not made a large general collection, but have some fine fossils, a grand geological section, and a good map.

Shall walk to the Niutah Indian Agency, about twenty-five or thirty miles from camp, where I shall mail this letter, and hope to get letters and some news.

Powell dispatched this letter from the Uinta Indian Agency to Dr. Richard Edwards, president of the Normal University at Bloomington, Illinois. The New York Times reprinted it on July 23, 1869.

The boats seem to be a success; although filled with water by the waves many times, they never sink. The light cabins attached to the end act well as buoys. The wreck was due to misunderstanding the signal, the Captain of the boat keeping it too far out in the river, and so was not able to land above the falls, but was drifted over.

We shall rest here for eight or ten days, make repairs and dry our rations, which have been wet so many times that they are almost in a spoiling condition, in fact, we have lost nearly half by now by one mishap and another. I have personally enjoyed myself much, the scenery being wild and grand beyond description. All in good health, all in good spirits, and all in high hopes of success. I shall hasten to the Grand and Green, as I am very anxious to make observations on the 7th of August of the eclipse. With earnest wishes for your continued success and prosperity at Normal, I am with great respect yours, cordially,

[Signed] J. W. Powell

SELECTION 2

The Wreck of the No-Name

Colorado River Exploring Expedition, Echo Park, Mouth of Bear River, June 18, 1869.

On the 8th our boats entered the Canon of Lodore—a name suggested by one of the men, and it has been adopted. We soon came to rapids, over which the boats had to be taken with lines. We had a succession of these until noon. I must explain the plan of running these places. The light boat, "Emma Dean," with two good oarsmen and myself explore them, then with a flag I signal the boats to advance, and guide them by signals around dangerous rocks. When we come to rapids filled with boulders, I sometimes find it necessary to walk along the shore for examination. If 'tis thought possible to run, the light boat proceeds. If not, the others are flagged to come on to the head of the dangerous place, and we let down with lines, or make a portage.

As indicated in the previous letter to Edwards, Powell gave a fuller account of the expedition's experiences in letters he sent to the Chicago Tribune. This one, published in the Tribune of August 20, 1869 (and reprinted in the Utah Historical Quarterly, v. 15, 1947), describes the wreck of the No-Name, which occurred on June 8 according to most reconstructions of the trip. Powell's published accounts give the date as June 9, but from the mouth of Lodore to the layover at the Yampa, his dates are consistently 1 day behind those of other journal keepers of the expedition. See Cooley, The Great Unknown, 124.

At the foot of one of these runs, early in the afternoon, I found a place where it would be necessary to make a portage, and, signalling the boats to come down, I walked along the bank to examine the ground for the portage, and left one of the men of my boat to signal the others to land at the right point. I soon saw one of the boats land all right, and felt no more care about them. But five minutes after I heard a shout, and looking around, saw one of the boats coming over the falls. Capt. Howland, of the "No Name," had not seen the signal in time, and the swift current had carried him to the brink. I saw that his going over was inevitable, and turned to save the third boat. In two minutes more I saw that [boat] turn the point and head to shore, and so I went after the boat going over the falls. The first fall was not great, only two or three feet, and we had often run such, but below it continued to tumble down 20 or 30 feet more, in a channel filled with dangerous rocks that broke the waves into whirlpools and beat them into foam. I turned just to see the boat strike a rock and throw the men and cargo out. Still they clung to her sides and clambered in again and saved part of the oars, but she was full of water, and they could not manage her. Still down the river they went, two or three hundred yards to another rocky rapid just as bad, and the boat struck again amidships, and was dashed to pieces. The men were thrown into the river and carried beyond my sight. Very soon I turned the point, and could see a man's head above the waters seemingly washed about by a whirlpool below a rock. This was Frank Goodman clinging to the rock, with a grip on which life depended. As I came opposite I saw Howland trying to go to his aid from the island. He finally got near enough to Frank to reach him by the end of a pole, and letting go of the rock, he grasped it, and was pulled out. Seneca Howland, the captain's brother,...