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From the journal of Major John Wesley Powell, leader of the first expedition down the Colorado River through Grand Canyon:

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AUGUST 13, 1869 – We are now ready to start on our way down the Great Unknown.

Our boats, tied to a common stake, chafe each other as they are tossed by the fretful river. They ride high and buoyant, for their loads are lighter than we could desire.

We have but a month’s rations remaining. The flour has been resifted through the mosquito-net sieve; the spoiled bacon has been dried. . . the sugar has all melted and gone on its way down the river.

We are three-quarters of a mile in the depths of the earth, and the great river shrinks into insignificance as it dashes its angry waves against the walls and cliffs that rise to the world above.

The waves are but puny ripples, and we but pigmies, running up and down the sands or lost among the boulders.

We have an unknown distance yet to run; an unknown river yet to explore. What falls there are, we know not; what rocks beset the channel, we know not; what walls rise over the river, we know not.

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Today, taking their cue from Major Powell, many Grand Canyon river-runners proudly refer to themselves as “butt pigmies.”