Major John Wesley Powell kept a diary in which he wrote of Music Temple: "When 'Old Shady' sings us a song at night, we are pleased to find that this hollow in the rock is filled with sweet sounds. It was doubtless made for an academy of music by its storm-born architect; so we name it Music Temple."
Now at night travelers lie on the beach in sleeping bags, and the Colorado's restful murmur lulls them into sleep. As one wrote a few years ago, "The moon developed a very pleasant habit of hanging just between two canyon peaks, and would gleam down from on high, making us feel very privileged indeed." Eight hours of darkness pass, and at morning light the dories set out again, at the river's own pace.