Bright Angel
Creek. According to the United States Geological Survey there is a
descent of 178 feet from the head of the Hance Rapid to the end of
Bright Angel Trail one mile below the creek. We would have a very
moderate descent in that mile. The run from the Hance Rapid had been
made in less than five hours.

Our boats were tied in the shadow of the cage hanging from a cable
sixty feet above. It stretched across a quiet pool, 450 feet
across--for the river is dammed by debris from the creek below, and
fills the channel from wall to wall. Hurriedly we made our way up to
Rust's camp,--closed for the winter; for heavy snows would cover the
North Rim in a few days or a few weeks at the farthest, filling the
trails with heavy drifts and driving the cougar into the canyon where
dogs and horses cannot follow. But the latch-string was out for us, we
knew, had we cared to use the tents. Our signal fire was built a mile
above the camp, at a spot that was plainly visible on a clear day from
our home on the other side, six miles away as the crow flies. We had
often looked at this spot, with a telescope, from the veranda of our
studio, watching the hunting and sight-seeing parties ride up the bed
of the stream. We rather feared the drifting clouds and mists would
hide the fire from view, but now and then a rift appeared, and we knew
if they were looking they could see its light. Camp No. 51 was made
close to Bright Angel Creek, that evening, Thursday, October the 16th,
two months and eight days from the time we had embarked on our
journey.

Three or four hours were spent in packing our material the next
morning, so it could be stored in a miners' tunnel, near the end of
the trail. We would pack little of this out, as we intended to resume
our river work in a week or ten days. A five-minute run took us over
the rapid below Bright Angel Creek, and down to a bend in the river,
just above the Cameron or Bright Angel Trail. Two men--guides from the
hotel--called to us as our boats swept into view. We made a quick dash
over the vicious little drop below the bend,--easy for our boats, but
dangerous enough for lighter craft on account of a difficult
whirlpool,--and were soon on shore greeting old friends. Up on the
plateau, 1300 feet above, a trail party of tourists and guides called
down their welcome. The stores were put in the miners' tunnel as we
had planned, and the boats were taken above the high-water mark;
placed in dry dock o