Indian Garden. Another difference between the "above" and the "below" is found in the fact that a garden is almost unknown on the rim, and that there are many down below. On the Bright Angel Trail is the Indian Garden, where, for many years, the Havasupais used to cultivate their corn, beans, onions and melons. Along the Shinumo, on the north side, Mr. Bass has a garden where all these things grow; where peaches, plums, grapes, and apricots have thriven abundantly, and where now he is planting figs, lemons, oranges and grape-fruit. The Havasupais, in the depths of their Canyon, grow the finest, largest and most tender corn in the world, peaches and figs galore, and all the ordinary vegetables. Boucher also has fruit and vegetables on the level near the river, on his trail. At Lee's Ferry also, Elder Emet has his gardens and orchards, as well as fine alfalfa fields. Nothing is more delightful than to come, after a hot journey down the trail, to these unexpected oases in the heart of the canyons.
Soil on the River and in the Canyon. The soil of the "above," too, largely differs from the soil of the "below." On the plateaus above, there are millions of acres, most of which careful examination shows to be covered with disintegrated rock and comparatively little vegetable soil, except below the surface. The winds and rains have carried away the softer and lighter soil, and allowed the heavier and harder rocks to remain. This process goes on all the time. In the depths of the Canyon, however, except on the steeper slopes, the soil remains.
The Silence on the Rim. A remarkable contrast between the rim and the Canyon is sometimes found in the absolute silence above, and the roar of the river below. It often occurs that not a sound of any kind can be heard on the rim but one's breathing and the beating of his own heart. One morning I lay for an hour before I arose, and during the whole of that time, though I listened again and again, not the slightest sound reached my ears save the two named.
Song of the River. Now descend to the river and, day or night, early or late, June or December, hot or cold, wet or dry, fair or stormy, the roar and rush, fret and fume of the water is never out of one's ears. Even when asleep it seems to "seep" in through the benumbed senses, and tell of its never-ending flow. After a few weeks of it, one comes away and finds he cannot sleep. He misses it and finds himself unable to sleep away from the accustomed noise.
The Wind. In nothing is the difference of "above" and "below" more marked than in the wind. Last night on the rim the wind blew almost a gale.
The pines sang loudly, and one could hear their roar for miles. A dozen times I awoke and listened to their weird music. If you go outdoors, the wind plays with your hair, and tosses garments to and fro with frolicsome glee, or even, at times, with apparent angry fury. There are times when the wind comes toward you, on the rim, with a rapidity and force that are startling. Every one has had the experience of hearing a military band approaching from a distance.
As it comes nearer, the sound grows louder and louder, and if it approaches with great rapidity, as for instance, in an automobile or a speeding electric car, the music assails the ear with an increasing force that is a surprise. It is just so with the noises of the wind at the rim of the Canyon.
Now leave the rim and walk down the trail a couple of rods. All is quiet and still. The change is startling m its suddenness. The wind may be blowing far above you, and if you listen, you will hear its effect in the trees, but here, where you stand, you are protected and sheltered.
Diversity of Color. Perhaps the greatest difference between the rim and the interior of the Canyon is found in the diversity in color and feature between them. While there is a fascination to the long, wide stretches of plateau on the rim, and the forest has its attractive points, there are not many prominent features (looking away from the Canyon) that would occupy the attention of travellers. There is little striking in color, in scenery, in rocky contour. Plains, trees, sky, clouds, sunset,--and nearly all is said. But immediately one stands on the rim and looks below, all is changed. Here is feature after feature that compels not only attention but reverent homage. Color such as is seen nowhere else in the world on such a grand scale; massive walls that have no counterpart; rock forms that dazzle and bewilder; and an unfoldment of the stone book of creation that is alike a joy and a pain, a delight and a sorrow, a something seen at a glance, and that requires a lifetime to comprehend.
