Titan of Chasms: The Grand Canyon of ArizonaPowell, John Wesley
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Titan of Chasms: The Grand Canyon of Arizona
Powell, John Wesley
Grand Canyon (Ariz.)
[Illustration: Uncaptioned vista]
Having returned to the plateau, it will be found that the descent into
the canyon has bestowed a sense of intimacy that almost amounts to a
mental grasp of the scene. The terrific deeps that part the walls of
hundreds of castles and turrets of mountainous bulk may be approximately
located in barely discernible pen-strokes of detail, and will be
apprehended mainly through the memory of upward looks from the bottom,
while towers and obstructions and yawning fissures that were deemed
events of the trail will be wholly indistinguishable, although they are
known to lie somewhere flat beneath the eye. The comparative
insignificance of what are termed grand sights in other parts of the
world is now clearly revealed. Twenty Yosemites might lie unperceived
anywhere below. Niagara, that Mecca of marvel seekers, would not here
possess the dignity of a trout stream. Your companion, standing at a
short distance on the verge, is an insect to the eye.
Still, such particulars can not long hold the attention, for the
panorama is the real overmastering charm. It is never twice the same.
Although you think you have spelt out every temple and peak and
escarpment, as the angle of sunlight changes there begins a ghostly
advance of colossal forms from the farther side, and what you had taken
to be the ultimate wall is seen to be made up of still other isolated
sculptures, revealed now for the first time by silhouetting shadows. The
scene incessantly changes, flushing and fading, advancing into
crystalline clearness, retiring into slumberous haze.
Should it chance to have rained heavily in the night, next morning the
canyon is completely filled with fog. As the sun mounts, the curtain of
mist suddenly breaks into cloud fleeces, and while you gaze these
fleeces rise and dissipate, leaving the canyon bare. At once around the
bases of the lowest cliffs white puffs begin to appear, creating a scene
of unparalleled beauty as their dazzling cumuli swell and rise and their
number multiplies, until once more they overflow the rim, and it is as
if you stood on some land’s end looking down upon a formless void. Then
quickly comes the complete dissipation, and again the marshaling in the
depths, the upward advance, the total suffusion and the speedy
vanishing, repeated over and over until the warm walls have expelled
their saturation.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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