e moved on thus till January 29th, when we came to the greatest fall in the river‹put down in government reports as eighty feet in one-third of a mile. Over the upper end of this rapid we let all three boats down by lines in safety, but as we started to repeat this for a further distance, the Marie was caught by a cross current, swept in against the rock, turned half on her side, filled with water and was jammed tight between two sunken boulders.

With a line tied around their waists and two men holding it on shore, first one man and then another (for the water is so cold one can stay in it but a few minutes) went out upon the boat, waist-deep in the rushing waters, and with grappling-hook and line secured nearly all the load of provisions, blankets, etc. Only two sacks of provisions were swept away by the current. But the boat, though we worked hard at her till dark, we gave up as lost, and lay down to sleep, if possible, literally upon the sharp edges of the broken granite rocks.

That night the river rose two feet and lifted the boat loose, so that early the next morning by a little hard work we got her out. But such a boat! One side half gone, and the other smashed in, yet her keel not broken. We pulled her upon the rocks and at once set to work. We cut four feet out of her centre, drew the two ends together, and with five days hard work we had a new boat. In those five days we were not a moment without the awful roar of that mighty torrent in our ears, with hardly wood enough to cook our meals (the last two days cooking done with the shavings from the broken boat) and the ever-returning question which boat would go next? [Two days later, at Horn Creek, after a nearly disastrous lining of the Bonnie Jean]...we adopted Major Powell¹s plan in such cases, of shooting the boat through and catching it below. The Marie, the rebuilt boat, was started first. She rode gracefully the high waves at the head of the rapid, but in the middle she turned, partially filled with water, shot to one side, struck against the cliff, sank in the worst part of the rapid, and came up in pieces about the size of tooth-picks-our five days' labor and our boat gone together!

Robert Brewster Stanton
Through the Grand Cañon of the Colorado
Scribner¹s Magazine, November 1890