The Canyon Country Zephyr page 14

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For Harry Aleson,

Life was Heaven & Home in Glen Canyon

By Ken Sleight

HARRY’S WEDDING AND THE BERT LOPER WHISKY

On the river, Harry would often invite my groups and me to camp with him. As we met on the river, he would often yell over and say, “Let’s camp together tonight.” And we’d do it. I enjoyed his stories and he put up with mine.

His World War I injury plagued him unmercifully and I was concerned by his bouts of intense pain. His days on the river were obviously numbered. It was becoming more dif-fcult for him to go it alone. So I asked him to join with me on some joint trips during this last river trip year in Glen Canyon. He agreed.

Harry made one stipulation in our agreement, however; we would travel in separate boats—on camping he would take care of the cooking and mess for the passengers he carried and I would do the same for mine. A contrast indeed—he on one end of the sand bar and I on the other. He cooked on a gas stove; I cooked over logs. He provided a table and seating; my folks squatted or sat in the sand. He served his people individually in courses at the table; I made mind dip out of the common pot. He cleaned the dishes himself; I had my folks clean their own.

The year 1962 was a momentous one. It was the year that Lt. Col. John H. Glenn, Jr. orbited the earth three times and exclaimed, “Oh, that view is tremendous.” It was the year that Bill Wells, the Flying Bishop of Hanksville, turned up missing over the Dirty Devil River as he was checking on his cattle grazing in the canyon below. When his prop few off, he was forced down onto a sand bar.

It was the last year to run the Colorado River through Glen Canyon before the waters began backing up behind the Glen Canyon dam. I scheduled some 16 trips in the Canyon that year. My brochures read, “Soon this Glen Canyon region will be covered with water and the deep canyons will be no more.”

In 1962, Harry Aleson, Moki-Mac Ellingson, Georgie White, Kenny Ross, Don Harris, and other river runners were active in running the canyon rivers. Each guide had his or her own character. One character in particular was Harry Aleson. Then 63 years old, this

Iowa native of Nordic heritage had accomplished much during his river lifetime.

Harry Aleson was colorful, imaginative, and remarkable. He was an unusual boatman, an inquisitive scholar, and pleasant to be around. He was egocentric and a showman, and he had a strange delightfulness about him.

He had a varied history.

In March 1918, he enlisted in the Aviation Section of the U.S. Army Signal Corps and was sent to France for training. While training, his plane went down and the toxic fumes and gas played havoc with his stomach. Chronic and perpetual stomach problems necessitated the removal of much of his stomach, and he required frequent visits to veteran hospitals. He was able to secure a full disability pension.

During the Depression years, Harry worked for various geophysical exploration frms in the southwest. During this time, he discovered the Colorado River and began boating on Lake Mead. Soon this led to trips upstream on the Colorado into Grand Canyon.

Harry sought adventure.

He and Georgie White swam the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon in 1945 for some 61 miles, and they repeated with an 81-mile swim the following year. In 1945, he also made a fve-day upriver motorboat run from Lee’s Ferry to Hite through Glen Canyon. He made several trips down the Yukon and the Mackenzie Rivers, and he liked to hike long distances, exploring new scenic areas and archeological sites.

Joining up with Charles Larabee, he called his outft the Larabee and Aleson Western River Tours. He purchased old surplus navy neoprene rafts, a couple of motors and a few supplies, and he was in business.

His river career was further spurred on by his scholarly

But, in spite of this awkward arrangement, we continued with our plans. Trips were scheduled on Sept 2 and Sept 12 of 1962. We placed advertisements in Randal Henderson’s Desert Magazine. We had a fair response, and the trips went well.

Harry had met attractive Dorothy Donaldson Keyes of Oceanside, California on one of his river trips the previous year. It was one of those “one and only” attractions. A romance developed and they decided to wed and honeymoon in Glen Canyon.

Harry called the coming two-week wedding trip his “Farewell Trip to Glen Canyon.” Sept 30-Oct 13, 1962. Fare $300. He advertised the two-week trip in Desert Magazine. He had a few takers and ended up with only a small group.

Trip members included Bering and Barbara Monroe of San Bernadino, California and Edna Fridley of Brigham County, Utah. Dock Marston said he would join if he could fnd transportation to the wedding site and be out of the canyon soon after the wedding.

Harry had told me of his plans. I told him I’d boat down, attend the wedding, and take Dock out. I would also pick up Bill Wells, the fying bishop of Hanksville, at Halls Crossing.

Harry had also told me there would be a special surprise at the wedding. Bert Loper’s whisky, which was had been lying under the seat of his Dodge Power Wagon for years, would fnally be brought out.

One must know the story to appreciate its full sig-nifcance. Back in 1949, Harry made a momentous river journey through Grand Canyon with Bert Loper and other noted river people. During that trip Bert was swept

pursuits. He liked doing research and assembling notes on the history of the canyons. As part of his research, he exchanged many letters with Otis “Dock” Marson, a noted self-appointed and maverick river historian.

As is common with many river runners, his love for the river cost him his marriage. He and his wife separated in 1940 after 12 years of marriage. Harry had set up house alone in a tent at Quartermaster Canyon.

from his boat and became lost to the river. On recovering the boat, Harry found a bottle of Seagrams 7, which he then placed under the seat of his Power Wagon for safe keeping. When I once asked him when he planned to open it, Harry told me it would be on a very special occasion. Surely, I expected to be invited to such an occasion.

The wedding party had been on the river for a week when October 6 arrived. I put on at Hite on October 6. My driver would pick me up at trip’s end at Cane Creek. I had two 10

Harry Aleson was colorful, imaginative, and remarkable. He was an unusual boatman, an inquisitive scholar,

and pleasant to be around.

He was egocentric and a showman,

and he had a strange delightfulness about him.

HP motors (one a spare) with me on my own raft, as I needed motor-power to hurry Dock out of the canyon when I met him. But, for the present, I wasn’t hurrying. I rowed over to the left bank of the Colorado and walked up to Woody Edgel’s cabin in White Canyon. My friend Woody was the legendary operator of a contraption called the Hite Ferry. After we talked for some time and had a long nightcap, he drove me down to my boat. He gave me a bottle of wine to present to the wedding party for him and sent his best wishes.

Shortly after midnight, I started down river. The stars were bright, the river was lovely, and I rowed and drifted most of the night. On arriving at Red Canyon, I pulled to the bank and walked up to Bert Loper’s old cabin to stretch my legs. The place looked most

Harry made a number of trips in the Glen and Escalante canyon area in search of Everett Ruess, a young lad who disappeared in the canyons in 1934.Through Harry, I had the privilege of coming to know the Ruess family. Harry had earlier taken Everett’s mother, Stella, into Davis Gulch. Later, I took Everett’s brother, Waldo, there too.

Interestingly, Edward Abbey had once inquired of Harry about a job as a boatman. Abbey, in his letter, described himself as “a tolerable camp cook, an excellent dishwasher, a fair First Aider, [knowledgeable…] about geology, biology, and Major Powell, and can even play the harmonica.”

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	For Harry Aleson, Life was Heaven & Home in Glen Canyon By Ken Sleight HARRY’S WEDDING AND THE BERT LOPER WHISKY On the river, Harry would often invite my groups and me to camp with him. As we met on the river, he would often yell over and say, “Let’s camp together tonight.” And we’d do it. I enjoyed his stories and he put up with mine. His World War I injury plagued him unmercifully and I was concerned by his bouts of intense pain. His days on the river were obviously numbered. It was becoming more dif-fcult for him to go it alone. So I asked him to join with me on some joint trips during this last river trip year in Glen Canyon. He agreed. Harry made one stipulation in our agreement, however; we would travel in separate boats—on camping he would take care of the cooking and mess for the passengers he carried and I would do the same for mine. A contrast indeed—he on one end of the sand bar and I on the other. He cooked on a gas stove; I cooked over logs. He provided a table and seating; my folks squatted or sat in the sand. He served his people individually in courses at the table; I made mind dip out of the common pot. He cleaned the dishes himself; I had my folks clean their own. The year 1962 was a momentous one. It was the year that Lt. Col. John H. Glenn, Jr. orbited the earth three times and exclaimed, “Oh, that view is tremendous.” It was the year that Bill Wells, the Flying Bishop of Hanksville, turned up missing over the Dirty Devil River as he was checking on his cattle grazing in the canyon below. When his prop few off, he was forced down onto a sand bar. It was the last year to run the Colorado River through Glen Canyon before the waters began backing up behind the Glen Canyon dam. I scheduled some 16 trips in the Canyon that year. My brochures read, “Soon this Glen Canyon region will be covered with water and the deep canyons will be no more.” In 1962, Harry Aleson, Moki-Mac Ellingson, Georgie White, Kenny Ross, Don Harris, and other river runners were active in running the canyon rivers. Each guide had his or her own character. One character in particular was Harry Aleson. Then 63 years old, this Iowa native of Nordic heritage had accomplished much during his river lifetime. Harry Aleson was colorful, imaginative, and remarkable. He was an unusual boatman, an inquisitive scholar, and pleasant to be around. He was egocentric and a showman, and he had a strange delightfulness about him. He had a varied history. In March 1918, he enlisted in the Aviation Section of the U.S. Army Signal Corps and was sent to France for training. While training, his plane went down and the toxic fumes and gas played havoc with his stomach. Chronic and perpetual stomach problems necessitated the removal of much of his stomach, and he required frequent visits to veteran hospitals. He was able to secure a full disability pension. During the Depression years, Harry worked for various geophysical exploration frms in the southwest. During this time, he discovered the Colorado River and began boating on Lake Mead. Soon this led to trips upstream on the Colorado into Grand Canyon. Harry sought adventure. He and Georgie White swam the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon in 1945 for some 61 miles, and they repeated with an 81-mile swim the following year. In 1945, he also made a fve-day upriver motorboat run from Lee’s Ferry to Hite through Glen Canyon. He made several trips down the Yukon and the Mackenzie Rivers, and he liked to hike long distances, exploring new scenic areas and archeological sites. Joining up with Charles Larabee, he called his outft the Larabee and Aleson Western River Tours. He purchased old surplus navy neoprene rafts, a couple of motors and a few supplies, and he was in business. His river career was further spurred on by his scholarly But, in spite of this awkward arrangement, we continued with our plans. Trips were scheduled on Sept 2 and Sept 12 of 1962. We placed advertisements in Randal Henderson’s Desert Magazine. We had a fair response, and the trips went well. Harry had met attractive Dorothy Donaldson Keyes of Oceanside, California on one of his river trips the previous year. It was one of those “one and only” attractions. A romance developed and they decided to wed and honeymoon in Glen Canyon. Harry called the coming two-week wedding trip his “Farewell Trip to Glen Canyon.” Sept 30-Oct 13, 1962. Fare $300. He advertised the two-week trip in Desert Magazine. He had a few takers and ended up with only a small group. Trip members included Bering and Barbara Monroe of San Bernadino, California and Edna Fridley of Brigham County, Utah. Dock Marston said he would join if he could fnd transportation to the wedding site and be out of the canyon soon after the wedding. Harry had told me of his plans. I told him I’d boat down, attend the wedding, and take Dock out. I would also pick up Bill Wells, the fying bishop of Hanksville, at Halls Crossing. Harry had also told me there would be a special surprise at the wedding. Bert Loper’s whisky, which was had been lying under the seat of his Dodge Power Wagon for years, would fnally be brought out. One must know the story to appreciate its full sig-nifcance. Back in 1949, Harry made a momentous river journey through Grand Canyon with Bert Loper and other noted river people. During that trip Bert was swept pursuits. He liked doing research and assembling notes on the history of the canyons. As part of his research, he exchanged many letters with Otis “Dock” Marson, a noted self-appointed and maverick river historian. As is common with many river runners, his love for the river cost him his marriage. He and his wife separated in 1940 after 12 years of marriage. Harry had set up house alone in a tent at Quartermaster Canyon. from his boat and became lost to the river. On recovering the boat, Harry found a bottle of Seagrams 7, which he then placed under the seat of his Power Wagon for safe keeping. When I once asked him when he planned to open it, Harry told me it would be on a very special occasion. Surely, I expected to be invited to such an occasion. The wedding party had been on the river for a week when October 6 arrived. I put on at Hite on October 6. My driver would pick me up at trip’s end at Cane Creek. I had two 10 Harry Aleson was colorful, imaginative, and remarkable. He was an unusual boatman, an inquisitive scholar, and pleasant to be around. He was egocentric and a showman, and he had a strange delightfulness about him. HP motors (one a spare) with me on my own raft, as I needed motor-power to hurry Dock out of the canyon when I met him. But, for the present, I wasn’t hurrying. I rowed over to the left bank of the Colorado and walked up to Woody Edgel’s cabin in White Canyon. My friend Woody was the legendary operator of a contraption called the Hite Ferry. After we talked for some time and had a long nightcap, he drove me down to my boat. He gave me a bottle of wine to present to the wedding party for him and sent his best wishes. Shortly after midnight, I started down river. The stars were bright, the river was lovely, and I rowed and drifted most of the night. On arriving at Red Canyon, I pulled to the bank and walked up to Bert Loper’s old cabin to stretch my legs. The place looked most Harry made a number of trips in the Glen and Escalante canyon area in search of Everett Ruess, a young lad who disappeared in the canyons in 1934.Through Harry, I had the privilege of coming to know the Ruess family. Harry had earlier taken Everett’s mother, Stella, into Davis Gulch. Later, I took Everett’s brother, Waldo, there too. Interestingly, Edward Abbey had once inquired of Harry about a job as a boatman. Abbey, in his letter, described himself as “a tolerable camp cook, an excellent dishwasher, a fair First Aider, [knowledgeable…] about geology, biology, and Major Powell, and can even play the harmonica.”

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