We put in a busy day unpacking new films and plates developing all films from the smaller cameras and sending these home.  A new stock of provisions had to be purchased, enough for one month at least, for there was no chance of securing supplies until we reached our canyon home, about 425 miles below.

We had a valuable addition to our cargo in two metal boxes that had been shipped here, as it was not possible to get them before leaving Wyoming.  These cases or trunks were sent from England, and were water-tight, if not waterproof, there being a slight difference.  Well constructed, with rubber gaskets and heavy clamps, every possible precaution had been taken, it seemed, to exclude the water and still render them easy of access.  They were about thirty inches long, fifteen wide, and twelve high, just the thing for our photographic material.  Up to this time everything had to be kept under the deck when in bad water.  These boxes were placed in the open section in front of us, and were thoroughly fastened to the ribs to prevent loss, ready to be opened or closed in a moment, quite a convenience when pictures had to be taken hurriedly.

The following day we went over the boats, caulking few leaks.  The bottoms of the boats were considerably the worse for wear, owing to our difficulties in the first canyons.  We got some thin oak strips and nailed them on the bottom to help protect them, when portaging.  Sliding the boats on the scouring sand and rough-surfaced rock was hard on the half-inch boards on the bottom of the boats.  This work was all completed that day, and everything was ready for the next plunge.

In passing the station, we noticed the elevation above sea-level was placed at 4085 feet, and remembered that Green River, Wyoming, was 6080 feet, showing that our descent in the past 425 miles had been close to 2000 feet.  We had not found it necessary to line or portage any rapids since leaving Lodore Canyon; we were hopeful that our good luck would continue.

Nothing was to be feared from what remained of the Green River, 120 miles or more, for motor boats made the journey to its junction with the Grand, and we were told even ascended the Grand for some distance.  Below this junction was the Colorado River, a different stream from the one we were still to navigate.

Before leaving, we ate a final hearty breakfast at the boarding-house where we had been taking our meals.  A number of young men, clerks in some of the business houses here, were among the boarders.  The landlady a whole-souled German woman and an excellent cook, was greatly worried over their small appetites, thinking it was a reflection on her table.  She remarked that she hoped we had good appetites, and I am sure she had no complaint to make so far as we were concerned.  We had never stinted ourselves when on the river, but the change and the rest seemed to give us an abnormal appetite that could not be satisfied, and we would simply quit eating because we were ashamed to eat more.  Less than half an hour after one of these big meals, I was surprised to see my brother in a restaurant with a sheepish grin on his face, and with a good-sized lunch before him.