are almost vertical; below, the canyon is much wider and more flaring,
and high up on the sides crags, pinnacles, and towers are seen. A number
of wild and narrow side canyons enter, and the walls are much broken.
After many suggestions our choice rests between two names, Whirlpool
Canyon and Craggy Canyon, neither of which is strictly appropriate for
both parts of it; so we leave the discussion at this point, with the
understanding that it is best, before finally deciding on a name, to
wait until we see what the character of the canyon is below.

_June 22._--Still making short portages and letting down with lines.
While we are waiting for dinner to-day, I climb a point that gives me a
good view of the river for two or three miles below, and I think we can
make a long run. After dinner we start; the large boats are to follow in
fifteen minutes and look out for the signal to land. Into the middle of
the stream we row, and down the rapid river we glide, only making
strokes enough with the oars to guide the boat. What a headlong ride it
is! shooting past rocks and islands. I am soon filled with exhilaration
only experienced before in riding a fleet horse over the outstretched
prairie. One, two, three, four miles we go, rearing and plunging with
the waves, until we wheel to the right into a beautiful park and land on
an island, where we go into camp.

An hour or two before sunset I cross to the mainland and climb a point
of rocks where I can overlook the park and its surroundings. On the east
it is bounded by a high mountain ridge. A semicircle of naked hills
bounds it on the north, west, and south.

The broad, deep river meanders through the park, interrupted by many
wooded islands; so I name it Island Park, and decide to call the canyon
above, Whirlpool Canyon.