Whirling down ten thousand feet in some two thousand miles, it meets the hot level of the Red Sea, once the Sea of Cortes, now the Gulf of California, in tumult and turmoil.

In this long run it is cliff bound nine-tenths of the way, and the whole country drained by it and its tributaries has been wrought by the waters and winds of ages into multitudinous plateaus and canyons.

The canyons of its tributaries often rival in grandeur those of the main stream itself, and the tributaries receive other canyons equally magnificent, so that we see here a stupendous system of gorges and tributary gorges, which, even now bewildering, were to the early pioneer practically prohibitory.
Water is the master sculptor in this weird, wonderful land, yet one could there die easily of thirst.

Notwithstanding the gigantic work accomplished, water, except on the river, is scarce.

Often for months the soil of the valleys and plains never feels rain; even dew is unknown.