The current was swift, and we travelled fast, in spite of a stiff wind which blew up the stream, getting a very good view of the mountain from the river a few miles below our camp, and another view of the extreme top, a short distance below this place, not over six miles from the San Juan.  We had directions describing the canyon in which the bridge was located, our informant surmising that it was thirty miles below the San Juan.  We thought it must be less than that, for the river was very direct at this place, and a person travelling over the extremely rough country which surrounded this side of the mountain slope would naturally have to travel much farther, so began to look for it about twelve miles below camp.  But mile after mile went by without any sign of the landmarks that would tell us we were at the “Bridge Canyon.”  Then the river, which had circled the northern side of the peak, turned directly away from it, and we knew that we had missed the bridge.  At no point on the trip had we met with a disappointment to equal that; even the loss of our moving-picture film, after our spill in Lodore, was small when compared with it.

On looking back over the lay of the land, we felt sure that the bridge was at one of the two places, where we had seen the top of the mountain from the river.  To go back against the current would take at least three days.  Our provisions were limited in quantity and would not permit it; the canyon had deepened, and a second bench of sheer cliffs rose above the plateau, making it impossible to climb out:  so we concluded to make the best of it, and pulled down the stream, trying to put as many miles as possible between ourselves and our great disappointment.  This afternoon we passed from Utah into Arizona.  For the remainder of the trip we would have Arizona on one side of the river at least.  We had much the same difficulty this evening as we had the night before in finding a camp.  Judging by the evidence along the shore, the high water which came down the San Juan had been a torrent, much greater than the flood on the Colorado and its upper tributaries.

CHAPTER XVI

A WARNING

We camped that night at the Ute Ford, or the Crossing of the Fathers; a noted landmark of bygone days, when Escalante (in 1776) and others later followed the inter-tribal trails across these unfriendly lands.  Later marauding Navajo used this trail, crossing the canyon to the north side, raiding the scattered Mormon settlements, bringing their stolen horses, and even sheep, down this canyon trail.  Then they drove them across on a frozen river, and escaped with them to their mountain fastness.  The Mormons finally tired of these predatory visits, and shut off all further loss from that source by blasting off a great ledge at the north end of the trail.  This ruined the trail beyond all hope of repair, and there is no travel at present over the old Ute Crossing.  The fording of the river on horseback was effected by dropping down to the river through a narrow side canyon, and crossing to the centre on a shoal, then following a centre shoal down quite a distance, and completing the crossing at a low point on the opposite side.  This was only possible at the very lowest stage of water.