Brahma and Zoroaster Temples. Now turn the eye away from Shiva, across to the east of Bright Angel Creek. There, outlined against the sky, are two noble-profiled buttes. The rear one is Brahma Temple (seven thousand five hundred and fifty-four feet), named after the first of the Hindoo triad, the Supreme Creator. The smaller butte, an angular mass of solid, unrelieved rock, sloping in a peculiarly oblique fashion, is Zoroaster Temple (seven thousand one hundred and thirty feet), thus adding to the Hindoo pantheon a fane for the founder of the religion of the Irano-Persians.
Deva Temple, Obi, and Komo Points. Behind Brahma can be seen, when at the right angle, a flat-topped detached mass (seven thousand three hundred and forty-four feet) named Deva Temple. Behind and above it are two points, Obi (eight thousand feet) to the right, and Komo, about the same height, to the left. These are the salient points on Walhalla Plateau, overlooking the Ottoman Amphitheatre, the chief temples of which I have already named.
Indian Garden. Passing now through the fertile Indian Garden, Angel Plateau is reached. The spring at Indian Garden is large enough to irrigate a small tract of ground. Experience has demonstrated that not only can vegetables of every kind be grown here, but all kinds of fruits, even oranges, lemons and grapefruit. For two miles after leaving the Garden, we ride over a fairly level plateau to its edge, where it overlooks the Granite Gorge.
Here, standing on the Tonto sandstone (three thousand seven hundred and eight feet), we look down into the dark recesses of the inner gorge, and picture the events described by Major Powell, when he and his brave band of intrepid explorers passed through.
O'Neill Butte. Now looking back to the rim at Yaki Point, we see beneath it, and corresponding to the Battleship, an imposing structure. It has been named O'Neill Butte, in honor of "Bucky" O'Neill, one of Roosevelt's Rough Riders, who was slain during the heroic charge at San Juan Hill. He it was who interested Eastern capitalists in the Anita Mine, and was therefore indirectly responsible for the building of the Grand Canyon Railway.
Pipe Creek. Those who wish to go to the river now retrace a portion of the way to the Indian Garden, and then turn off eastward by the old-time Indian corn-storage houses. Here one obtains a fine view of the wild chaos of metamorphosed rocks of Pipe Creek. It is a veritable Pluto's workshop, where the rocks are twisted, burned, and tortured out of all semblance to their original condition. They are made into cruel and black jagged ridges, which seem eager to tear and rend you.
Falls of Willow Creek. In these forbidding rocks the Devil's Corkscrew Trail has been cut, winding and twisting down, down, twelve hundred feet, passing by a split in the rocks where the waters of Willow Creek make a waterfall of over two hundred feet.
The Colorado River. At last the Colorado River is reached, and we are but two thousand four hundred and thirty-six feet above the sea. El Tovar, above, is six thousand eight hundred and sixty-six feet, and we have thus descended four thousand four hundred and thirty feet, nearly a mile, from rim to river. And what a river it is! No one can form any idea of it, unless he stands on the very brink, almost deafened by the sound of its sullen roar and turbulent rapids. It is hungry, insatiable, murderous, cruel. Many a foolish mortal has had the breath dashed from his body by these powerful waves. Those who wish to cross to the other side can defy danger in the cable crossing, but only a skilled boatman should attempt to row across.
Colorado Salmon. Fish are caught in the river here at times. The chief variety is a scale-bearing fish, of silvery appearance, commonly known to the local dwellers as Colorado salmon. Specimens have been caught two feet eight inches in length, and sixteen inches in circumference, and a fortunate fisherman brought one up to El Tovar, which was nearly three feet in length.
Camping at the River. It is a delightful experience to remain over night and sleep on the river sand, especially if the moon be at its full. Then one sees great walking shadows--moving, living, palpable entities. Towers and buttes and temples take on new qualities under the softer luminary of the night.
Here, too, one gets to know the Canyon in a new phase. He is in the trough between two ranges of mountains. To the north and to the south are towering peaks. You forget that you have ridden down, down, to reach this spot. You are in a new country. A majestic range of glorious peaks soars away above you to the north. Now, by merely turning in the other direction, you see another and entirely different range, with peaks, canyons, ravines, gorges, points, ridges all its own.
The Return to El Tovar. Riding back to El Tovar, with thoughts like these, the visitor imagines himself riding to a City Celestial. He reaches the plateau, studies for a while the unique coloring of the Algonkian strata just above the Granite Gorge, and sees where the faulting has raised them above the Tonto sandstones. Then, steadily looking upward, he rides forward, climbing slowly but surely to the peaks above. Tired though he is, he feels a constant thrill of satisfaction as he rises higher and higher, and when, at last, his animal lifts him to the level of El Tovar, and he stands once more in his room at the hotel, he feels an exaltation vouchsafed only to those who have dared and done an unusual thing. And this the Canyon is! No matter how often the trip is made, the interest of it never tires; the wonder of it never grows less.
