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THE WONDERS OF THE COLORADO
DESERT
VOLUME TWO
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The Wonders
of
The Colorado Desert
(Southern California)
Its Rivers and its Mountains^ its Canyons and its Springs,
its Life and its History, Pictured and Described
Including an Account of a Recent Journey made down the Overfii
of the Colorado River to the Mysterious Saltan Sea
ow
By GEORGE WHARTON JAMES
Author of " In and Around the Grand Canyon," " The Old Missions of California," etc.
With upivardi of Three Hundred Pen-and-ink Sketches
from Nature, by
CARL EYTEL
J -J J J
IN TWO VOLU M t
Vol. II.
b
Boston
Little, Brown, and Company
1906
f.V.
• • • *
PUBLIC UBRiVR^
A8TOR, LENOX AND J
TILDEN FOUNDAT'CMS. ,
R 1906 )-A
R
Copyright, 1906,
Edith E. Farnsworth.
u4!! rights reserved
Published December, 1906
Typography by Griffith-Stillings Press, Boston, U.S.A.
Cheeked
May 1913
CONTENTS
Volume Two
Chapter Page
XVIII. Dr. Widney's Plan for Reflooding the Colorado Desert 271
XIX. Palm Springs; An Oasis on the Desert 277
XX. Prospecting and Mining on the Desert 299
XXI. Sign-boards on the Desert 331
XXII. The Tragedies of the Desert 337
XXIII. The Camp-fires of the Desert 345
XXIV. The Reclamation of the Desert, in the Imperial and
Coachella Valleys 353
XXV. Horticultural Possibilities of the Desert 373
XXVI. Date-Palm Culture on the Desert 383
XXVII. The Burro on the Desert 397
XXVIII. A Tramp from San Diego to Yuma 403
XXIX. A Tramp from Yuma up the Colorado River to Palo
Verde, then by the Chuckwalla Trail to Salton . 415
XXX. Out to the Brooklyn and Granite Mines 429
XXXI. Up Martinez Canyon, into Coahuilla Valley and back
by Warner's Ranch and Carrizo Creek .... 437
XXXII. Through Mesquite Land 453
XXXIII. From Pines to Palms 463
XXXIV. A Pasear from the Garden of Eden by way of
Morongo Pass and Twenty-Nine Palms to Indio 473
XXXV. From Yuma, down the Overflow of the Colorado to
the Salton Sea 487
V
VI
Contents
Chapter P'^g^
XXXVI. The Salton Sea and Its Mystery 503
XXXVII. What the Desert Offers to the InvaHd 519
XXXVIII. Suggestions for the Desert Tenderfoot 521
XXXIX. The Lure of the Desert 527
FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS
Volume Two
Palms at Indio, Colorado Desert Frontispiece
Palm Springs, Colorado Desert Poge 288
On the Edge of a "Playa," Colorado Desert " 300
A "Playa" on the Colorado Desert " 312
The Salton Basin and the Salt-works before the rising of
the Salton Sea " 324
About to take a Sail on a "Playa" on the Colorado Desert " 332
Cutting Alfalfa on the Colorado Desert " 353
Watermelons growing at Coachella on the Colorado Desert " 364
Grape-vines growing at Coachella on the Colorado Desert " 374
Orchard on the Colorado Desert " 382
The Alamo River conveying the Overflow Water of the
Colorado to the Salton Sea, approaching Sharps . . " 486
On the Alamo, Two Days from the Salton Sea " 494
"Van" and his Pack after walking from the Boat on the
Salton Sea " 500
Colorado River pouring in at the "Cut" " 504
The Dry Bed of the Colorado River just below the "Cut" " 510
On Pelican Island, the Salton Sea " 516
Building the Concrete Dam on the Colorado River, Intake
No. I " 518
vu
ILLUSTRATIONS IN THE TEXT
Volume Two
Indian Woman carrying a Load Page 272
A Rustic Gateway " 275
The Palm Springs Station " 277
Dr. Murray's Hotel at Palm Springs as it appeared Twenty
Years ago " 278
Dr. Murray's Hotel at Palm Springs as it appears To-day " 279
Cottage of Palm Leaves at Palm Springs " 280
Palm Springs Store " 281
The McCallum Ranch-house, Palm Springs " 282
On the Line of flume bringing the Whitewater to Palm
Springs " 283
The Stone Ditch bringing the Whitewater to Palm Springs " 284
Residence in Palm Springs " 285
Schoolhouse at Palm Springs " 286
Tent Life at Palm Springs " 287
Tenter hauling Water at Palm Springs " 287
House over Hot Spring at Palm Springs " 288
Palm-leaf Sandals " 289
Pedro " 289
Indian Graves at Palm Springs " 290
A Relic of the Palmdale Railroad " 291
The Deserted Village of Rincon " 292
Hidden Ollas, Rincon " 293
The Entrance to Andreas Canyon " 294
Hidden Mortar at the Deserted Village of Rincon ... " 295
Where Chief Andreas lived in Andreas Canyon " 296
Waterfall in Andreas Canyon " 297
Palms, Andreas Canyon " 297
Looking from the Ridge into Andreas and Murray Canyons " 298
A Hobbled Burro " 300
IX
/
X
Illustrations
The Trusty Pack-saddle P^i^ 302
The Trusty Burro's Load " 303
Prospector on the March " 304
The Pack-burro fording a Stream " 306
Pete McGuire " 308
Resting after the Day's Work " 310
Burros RolHng " 313
An Old Prospector " 316
Picacho (the Peak) and Picacho Mining Camp " 321
Plowing Salt in the Salton Sea " 323
The New Liverpool Salt-Works " 324
Station at Indio " 327
Arrow-heads '* 329
One of Supervisor Jasper's Guide-posts " 332
Old Cave Dwelling in Tauquitch Canyon " 334
On the Trail to San Jacinto Peak . " 336
A Coahuilla Basket " 338
Fig Tree at Palm Springs " 340
A Turn in Palm Canyon " 342
In Palm Canyon " 343
A Coahuilla Basket Maker " 348
A Coahuilla Basket " 351
Headquarters of California Development Company,
Calexico " 355
Main Canal, near Imperial " 359
Typical Ranch-house in Imperial Valley " 360
Flume carrying the Canal over New River " 360
An Imported Galloway Bull on the Desert " 362
Cattle in the Imperial Valley " 3^3
On the Main Canal, Imperial , " 365
Irrigation in Imperial Valley " 368
"Hidden Lake," on the Edge of a Mountain Ridge ... " 372
Signal Mountain at New River " 374
Dr. Murray's Orange Grove at Palm Springs " 375
Head of Milo Maize " 376
Milo Maize " 376
Sugar Cane growing in Imperial Valley " 377
Illustrations
XI
On the Main Canal, Imperial Valley
One of the Lateral Canals, Imperial Valley
A Drop in the Main Canal
California Development Company's Barn and Water
Tower at Calexico
Palms in the Foot-hills near Indio
All that remains of Seven Palms
Twenty-Nine Palms
Clusters of Dates on a Wild Palm
The Experimental Date Farm at Mecca
Palms at Hanlon Ranch
On the Trail up Palm Canyon
Palms in the Foot-hills near Indio
Our Three Burros
Jennie
Throwing the Diamond Hitch
Burro's Lunch Time
El Campo
Ruins in Hill's Valley
Ranch-house at Jacumba
From the Mountains to the Desert
Coyote Well, on Road between San Diego and Yuma . .
Blue Lake, Imperial Valley
Indian Wells near Silsbee
Where Five Canals meet in Imperial Valley
Cookes Wells
On the Line below Pilot Knob
Boundary Mountain near Calexico
Yuma Indian carrying Water
A Yuma Indian's Pipe
A Street in Old Yuma
The Town of Palo Verde
North Palo Verde Mining Camp
Brush Schoolhouse at Palo Verde
McFee's Ranch
Ehrenberg
Ehrenberg from the Colorado River
Page
378
379
380
382
384
386
387
388
390
392
394
395
398
399
401
402
404
405
406
407
409
410
411
412
412
414
414
416
416
417
418
420
420
421
422
423
xii Illustrations
Graveyard at Ehrenberg . Poge 423
Brown's Ranch, near the Colorado River " 424
Chuckwalla Storehouse " 425
Chuckwalla Well " 425
Dos Palmas " 426
A Mill for making Adobe Brick " 428
Starting on a Trip " 430
Reaching the Desert from Cottonwood Canyon " 433
San Jacinto Peak " 436
In the Martinez Sand-wash " 438
Wild Cactus on the Martinez Trail " 439
A View of the Desert from the Ridge above Rock House
Canyon " 440
A Glimpse of the Salton Sea from the Martinez Trail . . " 442
The Vandeventer Ranch " 443
Oak Grove Ranch-house, once a Stage-station " 444
The Main Street at Agua Caliente, Warner's Ranch . . " 445
Old Stage-station at Warner " 446
San Felipe River " 446
Ruins of Carrizo Stage-station " 447
General Cooke's Pass " 448
Sand Sculptures on the Desert " 450
Dos Alamos " 451
Near Indian Well " 454
In Cathedral Canyon " 455
Cave-dwelling of Indians, Andreas Canyon " 457
In Chapel Canyon " 458
Falls in Deep Canyon " 459
Large Falls in Deep Canyon " 460
Chollas on Desert " 461
The Thomas Ranch among the Pines " 464
Murray Butte, in Palm Canyon " 467
On the Palm Canyon Trail " 468
On the Trail up Palm Canyon " 469
Old Stage-station at Palm Springs " 470
On the Morongo Pass Road " 471
Garden of Eden " 473
Illustrations xiii
Indian OUas Page 474
The Toutain Ranch, Whitewater Canyon " 474
The Morongo Pass " 475
Old Gold Wheel " 475
The Devil's Garden " 47^
Entering the Morongo Pass " 47°
Butchering Appliances 479
At Twenty-Nine Palms " 4^0
Wilson's House " 4^1
Working the Arastra at Twenty-Nine Palms " 4^1
"Horning" for Gold : ■ • " 4^2
Preparing the Ore for "Horning" " 4^2
Pinnacles at Entrance to Pinion Canyon " 4^4
Old Arastra at Twenty-Nine Palms " 4^6
On the Alamo River " 4^8
Mountain Springs 4^9
Colorado River Steamer 49°
On the Main Canal, Imperial Valley " 49^
The Desert Traveler's Way of making Biscuit " 493
A Boating Paradise, near Calexico 494
Cameron Lake before the 1906 Flood " 49^
Resting on the Edge of the Salton Sea " 499
A Side Gorge in the San Jacinto Range " 5°^
Stone Corrals at Mountain Springs " 5°"
The March of the Salton Sea ' 5^5
The Pelicans of Pelican Island, Salton Sea " 5'"
Nesting Pelicans, Pelican Island, Salton Sea 5^7
Indian School in Banning Reservation " 52°
xiv Illustrations
MAPS AND DIAGRAMS
Diagram indicating Sign-posts erected on the Colorado
Desert, Riverside County, California Poge 330
Map of Southern California and the Imperial Valley . . " 356
Statement of Tonnage moving off the Imperial Branch of
the Southern Pacific Railway, during the year 1905 . " 364
Table showing Distribution of Growers in Weekly Pools . " 371
Diagram No. i, showing Location of the different Canal
Intakes " 510
Diagram No. 2, showing Location of the different En-
deavors to turn the Waters of the Colorado River . . " 511
Table showing Minimum, Maximum, and Mean Tem-
peratures, Rain Precipitation, and Direction of Pre-
vailing Winds at Indio and Salton, on the Colorado
Desert, for the past Twelve Years . . . Between pages 502, 503
r>
The Wonders
of the
Colorado Desert
CHAPTER XVIII
Dr. Widney's Plan for Reflooding
THE Colorado Desert
N the year 1873, Dr. J. P. Widney, now of Los An-
geles, then an army surgeon who had spent two
years in Arizona and had made two careful explora-
tions of the desert, published in the Overland
Monthly an elaborate and carefully prepared article
in which he sought to demonstrate that great climatic
changes had occurred in the regions adjacent to the
desert owing to the drying up of the inland sea that once covered
the area of the desert, and that, if this desert were again flooded,
such beneficent climatic results would return again. He claims
that simultaneously with the drying up of the great shut oflp por-
tion of the gulf that made the Salton Basin, a great climatic
change occurred in the surrounding territory including Southern
Califorr^; the change being marked by a decided and rather
sudden i.icrease of aridity.
As there is no other apparent cause for this climatic change he
raised the important question as to whether these two appar-
ently coincident transformations should not be looked upon as
cause and effect. In support of this view he adduced two readily
discernible factors as follows: "What would be the logical result of
271
272
The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
the transformation into dry land of so large a portion of the ancient
gulf? An area one hundred eighty miles in length by an average
of at least thirty miles in width has ceased to be covered by water,
and has become a parched, heated desert. The yearly evaporation
in the Bay of Bengal, as shown by the published proceedings of the
* Bombay Geographical Society,' is more than sixteen feet. This
portion of the gulf, which is surrounded by high mountains, reflect-
ins: the sun from their bare sides, shut off from the cool winds of the
ocean, its waters shallow and easily heated, must have been a steam-
ing caldron, keeping the air-currents above constantly saturated
with moisture. This evaporation, however, estimated at the rate
before given, would be enough, if all recondensed and precipitated,
to supply twelve inches of rain to 86,400 square miles — more than
double the area of the state of Ohio. Again, that evaporation
involves the rendering of a vast amount of active heat latent. This
would lower the temperature of all the
adjacent territory. Fort Yuma, at the
south end of the desert, upon the Colo-
rado River, has, for days at a time, a
temperature of 120°. When the desert
was covered by the sea the heat must
have been lower by a number of degrees.
This lowering of the temperature alone,
apart from any increase of moisture in
the air, would add to the rainfall, by
increasing the condensation of vapor
a'ready brought by the rain-currents
from farther south. The augmented
carrying a load dampness of the atmosphere and the con-
sequent fall of temperature would have
another effect. Such rain as had fallen over the adjacent country
would be less quickly dried up, by giving a moister soil and more
numerous springs and streams of water. It is not probable that
Western Arizona, the Mohave Desert, and the mountains surround-
ing the Colorado Desert were ever sufficiently well watered for any
general system of agriculture, but it is probable that there was
enough moisture to supply forests where none now exist, to feed
innumerable streams for irrigation where now the channels are dry
Indian woman
Plan for Reflooding the Desert 273
except after an occasional storm, and to support an annual growth
ot grass for grazing where now are barren wastes."
The other factor he presents as follows: "Anyone who has re-
sided a few years in the Los Angeles and San Bernardino valleys
cannot have failed to notice and execrate the baffling west wind
that so often breaks up the storm-current from which refreshing
rain is hoped. A southeaster sets in, blows for several days,
clouds gather loweringly upon the mountains, and the parched
earth waits for the cooling shower. But suddenly the storm-drift
checks, the west wind comes rushing in, there is an angry commo-
tion in the upper air, and the clouds, baffled and beaten, are driven
back, carrying with them their precious moisture, through the
mountain passes to the interior. This especially happens in the
evening, the time for the full strength of the daily sea-breeze, and
so repeatedly that the plaintive remark is often heard, 'If only our
rain-current will continue until the turn of the evening, we shall
escape the west wind, and then we are certain of another day's
rain.' What is the cause of this interruption ? Simply this: back
of those mountains is the desert. All day it is heating up with the
sun. \\ hen afternoon comes, it is probably 40° hotter than the
ocean on the west. Then the cold sea air rushes in through every
break in the mountain chain, to take the place of this rarified
atmosphere, forcing back with it the clouds, whose moisture is
quickly dissipated by the scorching breath of the sands. So con-
stant and powerful is this wind-current that the trees in the San
Gorgonio Pass are all blown from the perpendicular, and slant
toward the east.
"The same warring of winds is seen again in the months of July
and August. Los Angeles, San Bernardino, and San Diego
Counties are really within the circuit of the Sonora summer rains.
Again comes the southeast wind but more gently than in the w in-
ter. Now it seems to follow rather up the course of the gulf, and
from there passes over westward. Again the clouds gather upon
the mountain-tops. Light showers fall, even heavy rains, in the
San Bernardino Mountains. Thunder and lightning are frequent.
But the disturbing influence of the Colorado Desert again makes
itself felt. In winter it was hot. Now it is a fiery furnace. It
glows and warms with ever-increasing heat; without water, with-
274 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
out life. Day knows no respite; night brings no freshness — 120°,
even 130° are recorded. The rains have trailed up the gulf. They
have refreshed Sonera and Lower California. Arizona has
grown green. They have followed the Colorado River far to the
north. They have even turned the upper end of the Colorado
Desert, and sent occasional floods upon the higher and cooler
Mohave Desert and in the mountains about Tehachepi. They
have gone to the south of the great fertile plains of Los Angeles and
San Bernardino; they have skirted the western edge of Arizona,
back of them; they have doubled around and spent their strength
upon the mountains north of them. Why have these rains thus
gone all around the only extensive fertile portion of Southern Cali-
fornia and yet avoided it as a forbidden land ? Because, to reach
it, they must cross the Colorado Desert, and its fiery breath is to
them the blast of death. Should they cross it, should other rain-
currents follow up the coast from the south, the cold wind of the
ocean, rushing in to displace the overheated air of the desert, beats
them back, and so the land has no rain."
Dr. Widney then proceeds to show that could the desert be
refilled with water — converted from dry, hot sand to an inland
lake — the very heat which is reflected from the barren mountain-
sides around would be a power of good instead of evil. "The con-
stant evaporation would render heat latent which is now active,
thus lowering the annual temperature very perceptibly. This
lowering of temperature alone, even if unaccompanied by an in-
crease of moisture in the air, would give a greater rainfall by the
more perfect condensation which it would cause. But the evapo-
ration from the surface of the lake would materially augment the
supply of vapor in the rain-currents, thus acting in a double man-
ner — a decrease of temperature and an increase of moisture for
precipitation. These rain-currents would also meet with less
difficulty in making their way against the ocean winds — as these
winds, caused largely by the heat of the desert, would be less vio-
lent — and would therefore with more certainty and regularity
deposit their supply of moisture over the plains of Los Angeles, San
Bernardino, and San Diego. When it is considered that every
additional inch of rain is worth millions of dollars to these southern
counties, the value of such a change in quantity and certainty of
fall may be appreciated.
Plan for Rcflooding the Desert 275
"The difFcrcncc in the summer chmate would he especially
marked. The Hood season of the Colorado River is from April to
September. The flood is caused by the melting of the snows in
the Rocky Mountains, where the river has its source.
"The Water still retains much of its coolness when it reaches the
gulf. The lake in the desert would
be at its highest, filled with cold
snow-water, just in the hottest por-
tion of the year. All the influences
at work to modify the winter rain
would now act with double power,
and the summer rains would prob-
ably become as reliable in the
mountains of Southern California
as they now are in the mountains of
Arizona. Streams which are used
for irrigation would have their flow
augmented; other streams which
now only furnish water in the winter
would become permanent during
the year. The grazing lands in the
mountains and among the foot-hills
would furnish a much more abun-
dant and certain pasturage. The
hot, dry winds which now come,
at times, from the desert, scorching
vegetation, would be cool and laden
with vapor."
In a later article Dr. Widney
showed that it was probable that
the flow of water from the Colorado
River would not fill the whole of the
desert basin, but only the low salt-
desert northern portion, thus not only not interfering with the
reclamation of the fertile alluvial plain sloping from the south
(what is now the Imperial Valley) by irrigation, but really assist-
ing by destroying the desiccating winds which sweep across it
from the north, heated and parched by the desert sands of the
lower basin.
'!! ,'
// A rustic
gateway
\
276 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
There is no denying the great power of Dr. Widney's de-
ductions and argument, and had the project been carried out
before so much of the land below sea-level was occupied by
farms and had become the site of cities it would have been,
to say the least, a noteworthy experiment well worth trying
by an enlightened government. Unfortunately it was not done.
Now it is too late. Much of the northern basin is occupied by
ranches and towns. Mecca, Thermal, Coachella, Indio, and all
their well-tilled adjacent territory would have to be abandoned,
and unless some method were designed to keep out the water
from the lower basin — the Imperial Valley — that whole country,
too, would have to be abandoned.
Dr. Widney's plan, however, is one that shows his far-seeing
wisdom, h will, in the main, be carried out. But, instead of its
being by reflooding the sea, it will be done by convertirig a much
larger portion of its area than he contemplated flooding into a cul-
tivated region. The water will be distributed by irrigating canals,
the evaporation will take place from irrigated lands, and the cool-
ing of the atmosphere will be effected by the growing of thousands
of square miles of alfalfa, corn, vegetables, and trees of every kind.
In a recent letter Dr. Widney says: "The present reflooding of the
desert by the unintentional turning of the river I look upon as
probably, in the end, a blessing in disguise. If the views I have
advanced are correct it certainly will prove such a blessing. With
this thought I have not lamented over the failure of the efforts to
return the river to its channel again."
The blessing will come, and yet I believe the Colorado will be
returned to its old channel. Man with his power and wisdom has
set himself the great task. He will accomplish it, and the climatic
change will thereby be forwarded, though, instead of a great inland
sea, we shall live to gaze upon a vast territory of cultivated lands
occupied by a busy, healthy, happy, and prosperous people.
An Oasis on the Desert
277
CHAPTER XIX
Palm Springs; An Oasis on the Desert
N IVEN a desert, an oasis Is sure to be Immediately
looked for. Who ever heard of a desert without
one ? It would be like a sea without islands!
The oasis is the eye of the desert ; its only
means of seeing what it would look like if
it were not a desert.
The Colorado Desert has several oases,
but they are nearly all made by the labor of
man and the vivifying influences of water.
One or two small natural oases exist and
they will elsewhere be described. But of
all oases on the Colorado Desert, Palm Springs is the most beauti-
ful, interesting, and delightful. It is a natural oasis improved by
man.
The Indians have
always enjoyed Palm
Springs. From time
immemorial the hot
spring has been one of
their chief therapeutic
agencies in the cure of
disease. The dates
of Palm Canyon, too,
have been a special
source of food supply,
which they prized very highly, and the close proximity of the
spring to the high mountains of San Jacinto where large game
abounded, the abundant flow of clear, cold, and pure mountain
water from Andreas, Murray, Palm, and West Canyons, and the
fact that it is completely sheltered from the north winds and the
278
The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
fierce blast of the San Gorgonlo Pass, all combined to render it
a peculiarly desirable location for a village.
The same conditions that attracted the Indians early arrested
the attention of the whites, and all through the days ot the early
emigrations to California its charms and comforts were sung by
plainsmen and emigrants, by prospectors and trappers, who had
enjoyed its delights after their dangerous and arduous journeys
over the less hospitable desert. Now the Southern Pacific rail-
way takes one to within five miles of the valley in which the spring
and settlement are located. Riding over the San Gorgonio Pass
one often alights at the station to find the pass blast raging in
full force. I have elsewhere fully explained the causes of this
Dr. Murray's hotel at Palm Springs as it appeared twenty years ago
singular and unpleasant desert phenomenon. If, combined with
the wind, there is the cold of the snow of the mountains one feels
nearly perished as he takes his seat in the buggy or wagon that is
to convey him to Palm Springs. This penetrating cold engenders
a feeling of derision and strong doubt that within five miles a
warm, sheltered spot will be found with so little wind that a lighted
candle can be carried around out of doors with certainty that
it will not be blown out by any stray gust.
I would not have it supposed, however, that this cold windy
condition exists all the time. Sometimes the wind is warm,
very occasionally hot, and part of the year it blows but little.
Seated in the conveyance we start on the drive. Crossing the
wash of the Whitewater, dry the major part of the year, the wide
An Oasis on the Desert
279
expanse of the desert lies to our left and the gigantic mountains
and spurs of the San Jacinto range to the right. The wind blows
fiercel)'. The sand particles arc borne along in its clutch, and
ere we have gone a mile we are covered from hat to shoes with
the tiny particles. Women generally wrap themselves up, cover-
ing their heads with a shawl. Men of impulsive and irascible
temperaments give vent to objurgations loud and
deep, above and below their breaths. All feel the
discomfort of the sandy winds, and some wish
they had not come, when, suddenly, in the space ot
twenty feet, while there seems to be no change in
I'm ^' " ■''■')» '-H^' —>/■,-' . , ■ --^z: •T'^\ ■■ t L >.,' ' ®f-
Dr. Murray's hotel at Palm Springs as it appears to-day
the conditions, the wind ceases and peace and comfort reign,
where hitherto it had been storm and discomfort. We have passed
into the shelter of one of the protecting spurs which shuts off
the wind of the pass as though by a closed and barred door.
Now we may shed overcoats and shawls, for neither wind nor cold
will disturb us so long as we remain in this sheltered region.
This is one secret of the great charm and attractiveness of
Palm Springs. It is protected from the north winds, and it is
seldom the hot, scorching winds of the south pass over its sheltered
area. While it is subject all the time to the warm and healthful
influences of the desert, the harsher and more enervating conditions
never intrude.
280
The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
As we ride along we begin to experience different sensations
in our olfactory nerves. The peculiar dryness and "herbiness" of
the desert air give place to the damper feeling of growing vege-
tation. We can smell alfalfa and hear the lapping of running
water in irrigating ditches. Soon we smell the smoke of burning
wood, and hear the barking of the dogs of the Indian village.
Then, in the dusk, tents of campers-out and the dwellings of the
settlement are dimly discerned, our buggy stops, and we alight
at the hotel.
1
m
rP>
.is''
•o
A ^"7
^*?-
OJ
Cottage of palm-leaves at Palm Springs
After a delicious sleep, with the sides of our cottage completely
opened to the refreshing cool desert air, we look around the village.
It is only a small settlement, but how interesting! Twenty years
ago Dr. Wellwood Murray and his wife established a place of rest
and recuperation here, -where men and women tired out and weary
with overwork or with a tendency to bronchial or pulmonary
troubles could come and recuperate and return to their homes
completely restored to health. It is free from fogs, and while
sand-storms blow a few miles away with uncontrolled fury, they
never overcome the barrier of the San Jacinto spurs before referred
to. The elevation above sea-level is about 500 feet, and the annual
An Oasis on the Desert
281
rainfall three inches. The average relative humidity is but fifteen
per cent. The importance of these tersely stated facts is at
once apparent to those conversant with the effect ot moisture
on the development of disease. When, with the absence of
injurious conditions, one remembers the superlative beneficial
conditions of antiseptic atmosphere, completely purified in nature's
own great laboratory, the desert; the vivifying power of direct
sunlight; the balsamic and healing odors of the mountain forests
which gently breathe down upon this valley every night in the
year; the perfect quiet; the pure water from the near-by moun-
Palm Springs store
tain springs, It is readily apparent what advantages Palm Sprmgs
possesses as a natural sanitarium.
From an old picture Mr. Eytel has made a sketch of the hotel
as it appeared at that time. Nothing but desert shrubs, sand,
rocks, mountain, and climate, with the clear blue sky and serene
stars, met the visitor of those days. Now what a change! Palms
of several varieties, mesquites, roses, vines, and shrubs of many
kinds, oranges, lemons, figs, apricots, and grapes show the marvel-
ous productiveness of the soil, and have converted the scene into
one of tropical beauty. Around the main building, ensconced
in the shelter of orange, lemon, fig, or almond trees, are picturesque
cottages and tents. Some of these are built of palm-leaves tacked
upon a wooden frame. Thatch, sides, back, and front are all
282
The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
of the fronded palm, and the effect is as winsome and attractive
as the most exacting could desire.
The trees, too, are not scrawny, dejected, struggHng members
of the arboreal family. They are robust, strong, symmetrical,
and vigorous. On their reservation, just across the road, the
Indians have a number of fig trees, some of them perfect giants.
They bear prolifically, and as the fruit ripens some six weeks
to two months before the earliest varieties in and around Los
Angeles it brings good prices when shipped to market.
The oranges also are especially attractive on the desert. I have
'Urns- *.^. ./^-'f'^ ¥^3%^ ^^
v*'.*ftp-X ^ vj^ J- ^i r -■ft' -1 -, Xw '.-'i*: ■■■'-, .r-*.>. I
The McCallum ranch-house. Palm Springs
about thirty orange trees on my home place in Pasadena, but
every year, owing to the black scale and a smutty disease that
partially covers leaves and branches as if with a thin coating of
soot, we are compelled to have the trees "sprayed" with certain
chemical compounds. When the spray has done its destructive
work and the fall rains come, our trees, for a short time, look fresh,
beautiful, clean, and attractive. Then they slowly drift back to
their former unclean condition. One can well imagine, therefore,
my delight to see trees that all through the year have this fresh,
delicious, clean look. There is no scale or disease of any kind
afflicting the orange trees at Palm Springs.
An Oasis on the Desert
283
Not far away is the Palm Valley store, a typical 'desert place,
where the prospector and traveler, the tent-dweller and the hunter,
may alike replenish his stock of canned and other eatahles and
procure feed for his animals. Close hy is the McCallum ranch-
house. This is an old-tashioned adobe structure, and was one of
the first erected in the valley. A few years before Dr. Murray
came to the valley Judge McCallum, formerly of Los Angeles,
purchased two thousand acres of land and began to experiment
with fruits and vegetables. The results of his experiments, com-
bined with those of Dr. Murray, aroused his enthusiastic deter-
mination to make of Palm Springs a great resort. He had all the
energy and resource of the old-time California boomer, and people
flocked from every part of the
state to be present
^'-j^yM On the
line of flume
bringing the
Whitewater to
Palm Springs
at the auction sales of the land. The time chosen for the sale
was auspicious, the weather being perfect, as it generally is during
the winter months. Everything went off with great eclat, and
sales were many and future prospects for Palm Springs unusu-
ally rosy. Though the claims of the desert oasis were strongly
presented they were not overdrawn. The place had within itself
all the possibilities ascribed to it. Acting upon these assurances
a number of people began to improve their places and the desert
echoed the activities of the budding town. For a while all seemed
to prosper. Then, unfortunately, trouble arose over the water
supply. As has already been apprehended by the reader, this
was a primary necessity. As well be without soil as water to
irrigate with. It had been brought in by means of wooden aque-
284
The Wonders of tlie Colorado Desert
ducts and stone-lined, cemented canals from the Whitewater,
a distance of eighteen miles.
But the floods in the treacherous desert river caused trouble.
The channel was changed where the river crossed the desert
before reaching the aqueduct and the supply failed. This
brought ruin to those who depended upon it, and the water prob-
lem to this day has remained an unsolved problem. Until water
is assured the growth of Palm Springs will be retarded. A few
thousand dollars, ordinary energy, and a fair and honest handling
of what water can be
secured would remove
the main obstacle, and
a few short years would
see Palm Springs one of
the desert marvels of the
world.
Near to Dr. Murray's
beautiful place is an
unusually well-built,
comfortable, and com-
modious residence built
a few years ago by a
San Francisco million-
aire who came here as a
last hope. The climatic
conditions were so ben-
eficial to him that he
secured a new lease of
life, and in his new-
found strength and energy returned to the city of the Golden
Gate and married the lady of his choice. The happy couple went
to Santa Barbara for their honeymoon. It was unfortunate. He
had left the desert too soon, for he took cold, and was too care-
less in combating it. He returned to the desert relying upon its
balmy air and healing influences to drive out the disease, but he
had stayed away too long and risked too much, and the end
came to his earthly happiness and his life.
Soon thereafter a wealthy Denver merchant, in a state of actual
The stone ditch bringing the Whitewater
to Palm Springs
An Oasis on the Desert
28.5
despair, came to Palm Springs, sent hither hy his physician.
Though the capitaHst had httle or no hope, the desert air and heal-
ing sunshine soon began to give him a fresh supply of life. He
improved rapidly, so rapidly that he decided to go and settle
up his Colorado business, return to Palm Springs and devote the
remainder of his life to the development of water for the settle-
ment and a few other needed improvements. He went, and his
case was but a repetition of that of his predecessor. Trusting
too much to what the desert had done so speedily for him, he
neglected the precautions he should have taken. He wanted to
Residence in Palm Springs
take a last look at his beloved Colorado from the summit of Pike's
Peak. In making the ascent he brought on, with great force, his
old complaint. A hemorrhage reduced his vitality, and before
he could return to the soothing and healing influences of the desert
he was "gathered to his fathers."
This over-confidence in one's restoration is one of the things
in which the invalid must positively control himself. Recovery is
so speedy, there is such a sense of buoyancy and relief, such
an inflow of new vigor and life, that one is apt to forget, in the
rebound from the depths of despair to the heights of justified
new hopes, that it takes time to repair lesions and heal diseased
286
The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
tissues. The work of healing well begun is a thing to be thankful
and joyous about, but it should not lead to the taking of too many
risks. Complete health can be assured in thousands of apparently
hopeless cases if the invalid will be patient and give himself proper
time.
The residence occupied by these two people is now owned by
the wife of a San Diego capitalist who finds health for herself
and her child in the desert. There is also a schoolhouse and a
church in the settlement, both largely the result of Dr. Murray's
efforts.
Here, year after year, flock people who have
the wisdom to flee from the exhaustion of city
life which is too much for them, and those
»';
'^^
Schoolhouse
at Palm Springs
who need to be restored to health. Many are people of mod-
erate means, and these usually, by compulsion, take the surest
and best way to regain the vigor they have lost. They live
out of doors in tents that are made so as to open and thus
allow fullest access to the air, while aff^ording complete seclusion
when necessary. In one of the sketches a tent is shown, the
occupants of which purchased a cow. The invalid was the hus-
band of a young school-teacher, who came here on the verge of
the grave. His devoted wife cared for him with the energy of
desperate love. She milked the cow, and day after day hitched
their patient burro to a rude sled of her own contrivance, whereon
she placed coal-oil cans, and drove down to the ditch, full of pure
cold water from the snow-banks of San Jacinto, there to renew
All Oasis on the Desert
287
Tent life at Palm Springs
the water supply for the day. I am glad to record that the invahd
left Pahn Springs perfectly restored to health.
Opposite Dr. Murray's hotel is the remarkable spring from
which the settlement gets its name. Here is the Palm Spring,
the agua caliente, the hot spring, that to Indians and whites alike
has been a
source of r , ^^^^h ^■-
w
w
he
ma
This spring _ mm^^ ;1 ,i .^m / v^ r x i»-!^^~i:
is unparal-
leled on
the Pacific
Coast and,
as far as I know, in the world. Through a central shaft, varying
in size from a small hole to the dimensions of an ordinary well, hot
water and sand rise, sometimes spouting high in air like a geyser,
but usually merely bubbling over the surface. The water spreads
around in a pool about six feet by
ten, to a depth of a few inches. The
bottom is hard sand until one reaches
the shaft, then it is moving
quicksand, kept in an
almost constant state
of ebullition by the up-
flow of the water. Im-
mediately the bather
reaches this quicksand
he sinks with a swift
motion that makes the
heart leap unless he is
prepared. In a moment the warm liquid sand closes around
the body and it feels as if he were being sucked in and down
by the clinging tentacles of some living creature that had the
power to hold the body in a most soothing and satisfactory em-
brace. Then, suddenly, with a convulsive effort, but as gently
y
Tenter
hauling water at
Palm Springs
288
The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
as if one were being lifted up in his mother's arms, the water of
the shaft gives an upward " bubble" upon which the bather is lifted
completely out and the pool once more becomes placid. The
strange thing is that, exercise one's efforts as he will, the spring
ejects the bather ere he can more than get his shoulders into the
water. I have stood on a plank by the side of the shaft, and,
jumping up into the air, have tried to
descend farther than usual, but with a
quicker gurgle than before I was thrust
out. If one has not been warned of the
peculiarity of this spring, however, he is
pretty sure to feel genuine terror
until he has had
personal experi-
ence of its safety.
But no one has
yet solved its
,Jl|,'^M/#g,\,
•«
House over hot spring at Palm Springs
mystery. Its depth has not yet been sounded and its existence
is unexplained.
The chemist has analyzed its waters and tells of the various
diseases it is capable of curing, but "all that you care to know is
that the black sand washes you as beautifully clean as the best
rubber in a Hamman bath, and that the effect of the hot water
is wonderfully exhilarating. There is no trace of relaxation of
the muscles, none of the enervating influence that usually follows
a hot bath. Instead, this mysterious water, so full of mineral
strength, acts as a powerful tonic to the system, and one comes
FU-
An Oasis on the Desert
289
Palm-leaf sandals
out of the bath feehng as though he had taken several glasses of
champagne."
So wrote George Hamlin Fitch some years ago, and many
baths in the spring enable me to confirm his statements, save and
except as to the several glasses of champagne, of which he is a
better judge than I.
In the spring of 1904 I visited
this spring with a number of friends.
I had excited their curiosity to the
highest pitch, and, in my bathing-
suit, I stood on the plank ready to
spring into the shaft. The water
and sand bubbled up as usual, hid-
ing any opening, but supposing it
was where I had always found it,
I sprang and dropped into the water
about up to my knees. The laugh
that went up was disconcerting, and
I sought to find the shaft, but to
my amazement it had disappeared. Very occasionally, the Indians
tell me, it becomes choked up with sand and for a few hours will
present a solid surface, then, with one of its convulsive "gurgles,"
the shaft is cleared, the sand disappears, and
it resumes its normal condition.
There is a small band of Coahuilla Indians
living on the Palm Springs res-
Pedro [1 ftM 1^^ ervation. Saturnino is one of
the oldest. He aided in build-
in<r the ditch that brings the Tau-
quitch or West Canyon water
to Palm Springs. Some of the
squaws are basket-makers,
thouch most of them en-
gage,with their husbands,
in agricultural and horti-
cultural work. Occasion-
ally a woman may be seen, as in the olden days, carrying a heavy
load in a blanket suspended from her forehead, or laden down
Vol. I. -19
290
The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
with palm leaves from which she strips the wrapping splints for
the manufacture of her baskets. These palm leaves are also used
in the making of sandals or foot-pads, wak-ut-em, provided with a
loop behind and two tie-strings in front, one passing between the
great and second toes, and meeting over the instep. They are
still in constant use by the old people.
A well-known character is Pedro, one of the medicine-men and
also an expert trailer. As a medicine-man he still has considerable
influence with his people, though he does not make the preten-
Indian graves
at Palm
Springs
tious claims that so many of his compeers do in other tribes who
live farther away from the white man. As a trailer, however,
he is an expert, and many a time he has been called upon by the
officials of the county to aid in tracking escaped criminals.
Behind the McCallum ranch is the old graveyard of the Indians.
Though no priest ever resided at Palm Springs, the influence of
the Church's teachings is manifest in the presence of the crosses
over the graves. Cremation and burial were both practised
before the coming of the Franciscans to California, but little by
little their teachings led to the abandonment of the former, and
now burial is universal.
An Oasis on the Desert
291
A few miles southwest from Palm Springs, yet not entirely
out of the zone of the sheltered valley, is Palmdale. It is a memo-
rial of the boom days. Professor Wheaton of Riverside, whp was
forced by asthma to seek the dry and curative air of the desert,
found himself so much bettered at Palm Springs that he induced
a number of Boston people to improve small places. He was also
instrumental in organizing the Palmdale company which planted
out one hundred and sixty acres in oranges. With a burst of ener-
getic enthusiasm these newcomers determined to have a horse-car
railway from Palm Springs station and the lines were laid and cars
brought, and for a few brief months regular trips were made each
day to and from the station. Then the water complications arose;
•^'^^'■i^-"-
— "■ '^■^'a-. . A relic of the Palmdale railroad
the trees rapidly suffered for want of a sufficient supply, there
seemed to be no immediate or remote prospect of a remedy, and in
despair the colony was practically abandoned. So that to-day,
if one were accidentally to lose his way on the desert he might come
across the rusty rails of the old Palmdale railway, and resting upon
it, its wheels almost buried in the ever-shifting sand, find one of the
old street-cars, exactly as Mr. Eytel has pictured it.
As I have shown elsewhere. Palm Springs is a natural habitat
of a large variety of birds. An abundance of water for them;
the sheltered position from the fierce, cold, stormy winds of
the mountains and the hot winds of the desert; the rich verdure;
the close proximit)- to the mountains, on the other side of which is a
large fertile plain and the placid ocean, — all these things combine
292
The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
to make it peculiarly alluring to birds. Indeed it has several times
been proposed by the expert ornithologists of the state that it be
made a special station for the study of desert birds. Professor
Joseph Grinnell of Pasadena has published an interesting though
brief monograph on "Midwinter Birds at Palm Springs."
In close proximity to Palm Springs are several most interesting
canyons. Chino Canyon is to the east and has already been
described in the introduction, and the celebrated Palm Canyon
and Tauquitch Canyon will be found adequately set forth in the
chapter entitled "From Palms to Pines." But there are still two
The deserted village of Rincon
important and impressive canyons that must be visited. These
are Andreas and Murray Canyons. About midway between
Palm Springs and Palm Canyon a dim wagon-road turns off to the
right which leads you to the mouth of Andreas Canyon. Just
before entering it, however, a little on one side of the road, the
deserted Indian village of Rincon may be seen, in a small, narrow
valley. It is close to the foot-hills. Here for many years the In-
dians had their unpretentious habitations. They brought water
down in little ditches from Andreas Canyon and planted figs and
grapes and sought in their simple fashion to improve their condi-
All Oasis on the Desert
293
tlon. Dr. Murray aided them In procuring seeds and they seemed
to be progressing, when a wealthy white man ot Riverside, with a
selfish disregard for their rights, "took up" the water of Andreas
Canyon, piped it down to his "Garden of Eden" (sic!) and left
the Indians waterless. When I inform my readers that this was
done for purely speculative purposes, as practically next to nothing
has been done to improve the Garden of Eden, the strong language
used to designate the contemptible conduct of some white men
toward the Indians will not be deemed too severe. The Indian
agent of that day was not inclined to put himself out to defend the
rights of his people and
they were soon " dried
out " and compelled to
move elsewhere. For-
tunately the welfare of
the Indians to-day is in
better hands. The pres-
ent and former Indian
commissioners have in-
jected some honor and
regard for simple justice
into the minds of agents
and inspectors, and it is
expected that erelong
this criminal injustice
and brutal theft at An-
dreas Canyon will be
remedied, the Indians
again allowed to take water for all their needs, and their vil-
lage be rehabilitated. When they left it in their desperation
and despair the shovel was allowed to remain by the side of the
ditch that their labor had dug. The wooden mortar, hollowed
out of the log with a stone axe, the Dutch oven, the trees planted
and watched over with so much solicitude, as well as the small
dwellings were all abandoned. In a sheltered spot hidden by
rocks and shrubs we found a stone mortar and three pottery ollas,
placed there doubtless by some broken-hearted woman who hoped
some day to return for them. But the battle of life has proven too
Hidden oUas,
Riiicon
'■^U
294 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
hard for her. The utensils were never needed, for the ways of the
white man have so roughened the led woman's pathway that she
has left it and gone to discover for herself whether the "Sweet By
and By" is any better than the "Hideous Now."
The entrance to Andreas Canyon is strikingly rugged and pic-
turesque. The road approaches at such an angle that one can
scarcely believe there is any entrance through the great rocky bar-
rier. Massive rocks, great boulders, desert shrubs, and the waving
branches of stately palms combine to make a rugged but entrancing
picture, and on making a sharp turn we find ourselves really within
the canyon. On our right is a large cave, sheltered by flat masses
of overhanging rock, in which the
Indians used to live. In
^,_ „_^. ^ „__ the floor of
/T^V
teafcjs.
-^-;:^v>j;^
The entrance io Andreas Canyon
the cave, which extends out into the canyon somewhat, are a num-
ber of mortars, hewn out of the solid rock, where the aborigines
pounded their acorns and dates and mesquite beans and seeds in
the preparation of their daily food.
We need to go a very short. distance up Andreas Canyon to have
its sweet picturesqueness revealed to us. The clear mountain
water comes gurgling and dashing down in fairly large volume, and
alders, cottonwoods, and sycamores with willows and a large variety
of flowering plants and shrubs vie with the palm in claiming our
interest and attention. The canyon received its name from an old
Indian who much belied his simple and harmless appearance. In
his contact with the white man, aiding him in planting fig trees,
oranges, vines, etc., he had learned to love the seductive and strong
liquors of his employers. He was a man of considerable energy,
An Oasis on the Desert
and upon a fertile " heiuh " about a half-mile up the canyon he
built a small adobe house, planted a fip; orchard and a vineyard.
In some way he learned the art of distilling, and when his grapes
besran to bear he made his own rude contrivance and becan to
distil brandy for home consumption. For several years he kept
this up, supplying his people with liquor and causing considerable
annoyance and mystification to the white residents of Palm Valley
by their occasional intoxication. Whence did the Indians secure
the liquor ? All protested they were innocent of supplying them,
and still the bottle circulated and the drunkenness continued.
At length Dr. Murray determined to make a little quiet investiga-
tion on his own account, and going up to visit Andreas surprised
him in the very act. With kind firmness
the doctor explained the law to An-
dreas, and showed the great in-
jury he had been doing his
own people by foster-
ing in them the habit
of drinking distilled
liquors, and then with
a few quick blows de-
molished the still and
spilled the liquor. The
penitent Indian made no
protest, and moonshining
in Andreas Canyon thus came to an abrupt end. The old chief
(for he was chief of the small band who lived near) soon after-
ward died, and I believe this is the first time the story of his
moral delinquency has been told.
We now begin the ascent of the canyon. It winds and twists
about like a snake, winding its tortuous length deeper and deeper
into the heart of the range. It is steep and in places quite narrow,
and the cold stream and dense brush make it hard to climb, for one
must cross the stream again and again and also force his way
through the brush.
The first palm we see is one that on account of its solitariness
has been called the Lone Palm. It rises majestically from the
rocks, and we see it from below through a cleft in the canyon's side
- _- Hidden mortar
at the deserted
village of Rincon
296 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
so that it fairly towers into the abyss of the sky. A mass of rock
or shrubs gives the illusion that a man is standing in attentive still-
ness looking over the vast expanse of rock and desert visible from
this point. He seems dominated by the vastness, the mystery, the
terror of it all, while the palm, waving to and fro as if in hovering
agitation, and speaking in whispers of rustling sibilation, seems to
be warning him to beware of wandering from her protecting
shelter.
All the way up, a:t irregular intervals, one comes upon the palms,
sometimes in groups, and occasionally solitary and alone. Most
of these are untouched by fire, consequently the old leaves have
fallen over
and formed
a protecting
covering for
the trunk.
Chief ''■■■■■ .,» ia#/ ^- ^ .M,i»',il|/, 4ftW:
Andreas
lived in Andreas Canyon
These are generally spoken of as "well-dressed" palms, and in
the various sketches the reader will be able to discern the difference
between a "fired" and a "well-dressed" palm.
Our objective point is the falls of Andreas Canyon, which are
about three miles from the mouth, but three miles of arduous walk-
ing, over and around boulders, forcing a way through the brush,
and fording the stream again and again seems to take a tremendous
amount of exhaustive energy. The canyon still winds and twists
in monotonous uncertainty, and once or twice, in desperation, we
leave the bed of the stream and cross the divides or ridges in hopes
of finding the long-looked-for falls. If w^e could divest ourselves of
all hurry and impatience we should revel in the picturesque beauty
combined with the rugged grandeur of the scene, for there are
few short canyons in California — the wonderful state of canyons
and gorges — that can rival Andreas. At length, to our delight.
An Oasis on the Desert
297
*P^-
Waterfall
in Andreas Canyon
on making a turn, the falls are before us. Crowned with a i)caiiri-
ful grove of palms and lesser foliage that seem to stand near the
very edge of the fall, giving a.delicious sense of color to the reddish
gray granite walls, the water comes gliding
down a steep declivity at about sixty de-
grees to the bed of the canyon below. Two
huge boulders arrest its flow, around which
the water dashes itself into a fury of white
foam and spray. The fall divides into two
and more parts except when the water is
in full flow, but jiio matter when seen it is
enchantingly lovely. Fhe mocking-birds,
larks, humming-birds, and canyon wrens all
come to enjoy the scene, for it is quiet and
lonely enough for the shyest and most timid
of creatures. It
is seldom visited,
perhaps not five
persons a year
going to see it. Making a sharp turn at
its foot, the canyon is deceptive enough
to lead one away from the fall unless his
ears are attuned to, the difference in the
rippling of the cascade and the ordinary
flow of the stream.
Ascending to one of the ridges of the
mountain we have a glorious and exten-
sive view of towering peaks behind with
two canyons before us. Immediately at
our feet, winding and curving away into
the secret recesses of the range, is Andreas
Canyon, while to the left, smaller and
less clearly defined, is Murray Canyon,
so named after the venerable genius of
Palm Springs, my good friend Dr. Wellwood Murray. The sight
allures us. We have walked up Murray Canyon, but now we
want the experience of crossing over from Andreas and walking
down it. The distance apart is about two miles, which we make
/ )
Palms,
Andreas
Canyon
298
The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
with some difficulty, the slopes being steep, rocky, and deeply gul-
lied. At length we are in Murray Canyon, and save for some
variations in width we might well imagine ourselves in Andreas
or Palm Canyon. On reaching its mouth, however, we look back,
and find it far more imposing than
the
mouth
of Andreas.
Its rocky sides
are far apart and
the space between is
a wild wilderness of
cactuses, flowering
shrubs, and rocky
boulders, the clear,
pellucid mountain
stream and the glori-
ous palms alone giv-
ing the picturesque life we so much love to see. Beyond and
higher up are the steep walls of the volcanic upthrust that makes
San Jacinto so noted, while on the higher peaks stately pines stand
in sight of perpetual snow from which they are constantly watered.
As we turn, the vast stretch of the desert hemmed in by the San
Bernardino Mountains is laid out before us, its monotonous plain
— almost colorless at this distance — being the very antithesis of
the canyons in which our day has been spent.
Looking
from
the ridge
into Andreas and
Murray Canyons
Prospecting and Mining un the Desert 299
CHAPTER XX
Prospecting and Mining on the Desert
ROM time immemorial men have sought wealth
in the most unlikely and unpromising places.
There is no desert, however terrible in its
natural conditions, that man will not dare if
thereby he may gain gold, or thinks he may.
The lure of the mine is more potent than the
lure of fame, of beauty, of power. The desert
has proven itself a natural home qf the precious metals. The
great Comstock lode that made Virginia City, Gold Hill, and
near-by camps and gave colossal fortunes to the Floods, Fairs,
O'Briens, Sharons, Millses, Mackeys, Joneses, Stewarts, and
others was in the heart of the Nevada Desert. So were Hamil-
ton, Eureka, Austin, Tuscarora, Bodie, and Esmeralda, and
later, Randsburg, Tonapah, Manhattan, Goldfield, and Bull
Frog. Millions, nay billions, have been taken from these mines,
while in Arizona a score of mines could be mentioned from
which vast wealth has been taken.
Gold, silver, and copper have already been found in large
quantities within the borders of the Colorado Desert. The Hedges
Mine, reached from Ogilby station, on the Southern Pacific, has
yielded not less than five millions to its owners. In 1897, when it
was at Its best, it had about four hundred men on its pay-roll,
and its forty-stamp mill was kept thundering away day and night.
At one clean-up ;^50,ooo was taken. So successful was it that
its owners increased the mill from forty to one hundred stamps,
and made great preparations for further development. Then
things went wrong and a receiver was appointed, and for some
seven years the mine has been in his hands. Not far away is the
"American Girl" Mine, owned by Ex-Governor H. H. Markham
and his confreres. United States Senators Stephen Dorsey and
300
The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
J. P. Jones have also extensive mining interests at Picacho on the
Colorado River.
It is not surprising then that men have constantly been found
who were wilHng to undergo any peril, dare any danger, face any
hardship with the possibility ever before them of "striking it
rich " and by a lucky find leaping at once into the possession of a
fortune.
To possess gold most men think is to possess that which pur-
chases all else needful. This erroneous and pitiable view is one
great secret of the prospector's and miner's daring in braving all
the horrors, known and unknown, of the desert. Mystery, too,
also has great fascination for some men. And it was natural
that from the early days of the Anglo-Saxon's
experiences on the Colorado Desert that stran
wild, fantastic stories should
float down to later comers'
ears of fabulously rich mines
known to the Indians which
they would not discover to
the white man, or of mines
accidentally discovered by
weary travelers at a time
they could reap no advan-
tage from them, and which
Fate aftenvards prevented
them from refinding. Such
a lost mine is the famous Pegleg Smith Mine, the story of which
can serve as a type for a score or more of lost mine stories that
are current in the mining states of the West.
In a recent number of the Los Angeles Herald the story is given
as follows. The story is an old one on the desert and is often
told by the camp-fire, in the miner's cabin, on the teamster's
wagon, or when a couple or more prospectors are tramping through
the hot sands after their pack-burros. And it is never told twice
alike. I have heard it a score of times, and each time different,
so while this written story is still another version it is just as
good as any of the others, and I give it as it is. Perhaps I ought
to say, in justice to my readers and myself, that I have no faith
A hobbled
burro
Prospecting and ]\rining on tlie Desert 30i
in the story, that in many details of geography, etc., it is alto-
o-ether inaccurate, and that its "positive facts" are utter non-
sense.
"where is pegleg smith's lost mine?
" This is the puzzHng question which has caused many a fortune
hunter to search the desert. Somewhere near three buttes that
rise from the burning sands the gold lies easy of access. Wealth
waits for the man who can find the spot where seventy years ago
a party of weary and thirsty trappers camped over night.
"The story of the lost mine has been told many times, but it has
remained for one who is interested in the older West to sift the
facts, and this is the first authentic story ever pieced together:
"In the year 1836 a man named Smith, and known as 'Pegleg'
Smith because he had lost one of his natural legs and wore a
wooden one in its stead, with a party of trappers came from St.
Louis to the head of the Colorado River. They followed down
that stream to the mouth of the Gila River and then struck off
across the desert. From Yuma their course was in a south-
westerly direction, across a wide stretch of desert, utterly devoid
of vegetation, and with no sign of water or life of any kind. They
traveled for three days toward some low hills, but as they pressed
on they appeared to recede and be always about the same distance
from them. At nightfall on the fourth day, however, they made
their camp at the very base of the southernmost of the hills.
"In the dim, fading light they could faintly discern the tops of
three small buttes to the northward, toward which a deep canyon
led. They were nearly out of water, so one of their number was
sent to explore the canyon to see if by any chance a spring of
water was there. Before long he had climbed to the top of one of
' the buttes, but had found not a drop of moisture. While at the
top of the hill, however, he discovered many loose pieces of black
metal, with here and there pieces of some yellow metal showing
on the surface of them. He gathered several of the pieces, having
the impression that the yellow metal was copper in its native
state.
"The trappers camped at the base of the hill that night, and in
the morning, by the clear light, they descried a high mountain to
the northwest. Their supply of water was almost gone, and
302
The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
they felt that their only hope was in reaching this high mountain
before what remained of the water had been entirely consumed
and they perished from thirst on the burning sands ot the desert.
The man who had picked up the pieces of black metal on the hill-
top gave no thought to them, and the one thought and hope in
the minds of all of them was to reach the mountainside and find
water.
"That night they came to the mountain, which all day had seemed
just a short way off, and found a spring of cool, clear water. They
were saved, and they thought of little else. The mountain was
named 'Smith Mountain,' in honor of Pegleg, who was the first
to discover it, and it bears that name to-day.
"At Temecula, where the trappers first stopped, they were told
that the pieces of black metal found on
the three buttes were gold, but the proof
was not conclusive until they reached
San Bernardino and submitted their find
to an expert. Even then they did not
realize the immensity of their discovery.
It must be remembered that this was be-
fore 'the days of old, the days of gold,
the days of '49.'
"After the discovery of gold in California
and the rush of adventurers from all over
the world to the new Eldorado, Smith began to consider. Event-
ually he became imbued with the idea that he had made a great
discovery, and he went to San Francisco where he organized
an expedition to seek for the three buttes in Southern Cali-
fornia where fabulous wealth was hidden. Fully equipped
for a long stay on the desert the expedition left Los Angeles and
started in a southeasterly direction for Smith Mountain, where
the last water was to be had, but before reaching the springs some
Indians who had been brought along to pack the supplies de-
camped quietly in the night-time with all the provisions and most
of the camp equipment, and the expedition was forced to turn
back.
"Pegleg Smith, disheartened by the catastrophe, left his followers
in San Bernardino, and nothing was ever heard of him again, so
The trusty pack saddle
Prospecting and ^Mining on llic Desert :5():{
far as history tells. Whether he ao;ain attempted to locate the
three hills of gold and lost his life on the hurning sands, or whether
he abandoned the quest and left the country for good, is not
known.
" From this time on the story of Pegleg and his discovery began
to spread and to assume fantastic forms. Every one who related
it told it differently. However, there were those who knew and
appreciated the real facts regarding the find, and who never gave
up the idea of some day making a journey across the desert in
search of the gold that they knew must be there.
"The next authentic piece of history concerning the PeglegMine
has to do with an Indian employed
on the ranch of Governor Downey,
which is known as Warner's
Ranch, and stretches from the
foot-hills below Smith Mountain to
the desert on the south. This In-
dian was wont to steal away from
the ranch on many occasions when
The trusty
burro's load
he could be fully equipped for a long journey and sometimes
upon his return he would display a quantity of gold. It was
in the form of black metal, generously sprinkled with free gold,
and readily passed for currency at the countrj' stores.
"The Indian was never very particular whether he got the full
value of his nuo;2;ets or not. He often remarked that he knew
where there was plenty more. It was known that he used to enter
the desert by way of San Felipe Canyon, which would take him in
the very direction of the three low buttes described by Pegleg
Smith and his comrades after their first trip over this region,
when the discovery was made.
"All these circumstances eventually came to the ears of Gov-
304
The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
ernor Downey, and he went to the ranch for the purpose of inter-
viewing the Indian, but before he reached there the Indian had
gone away to Anaheim and there he was killed in a quarrel over
a game of cards. Governor Downey closely questioned the squaw
of the Indian and succeeded in getting her to describe as best she
could the route taken by her brave on his mysterious journeys
to the desert. She said that the Indian got his last supply of
water at the foot of Smith Mountain at the identical spring where
Pegleg and his comrades found water aft^r leaving the three
buttes on the morning after their discovery. She said that he
always left Smith Mountain at daybreak and traveled toward
Prospector on the march
the sun and at about three o'clock in the afternoon he would come
to the place where 'mucho, mucho gold' was to be had.
"Since that time it is hard to separate the reliable stories of
Pegleg's discoveries from the unauthenticated ones and the
purely imaginative ones. In i860 a man named McGuire organ-
ized a party of six in San Francisco to go to the Pegleg mine.
He claimed to have been there, and showed a number of very
valuable gold nuggets to substantiate his assertions. He had
certificates of deposit on a San Francisco bank showing that he
had plenty of money, and said that he had obtained them by
depositing nuggets like those he carried. The six adventurers
went through San Felipe Canyon onto the desert, and that was the
last ever seen of them. Their bleached bones were found many
Prospecting and ^NFinino- on llio Desert .'30a
months afterward. The bones clearly told the story of the fate
of that expedition.
"Fifteen years after this a prospector, in making his way from
Arizona to CaHfornia, wandered far from his way, and became
lost on the desert. After he had traveled about for two days he
saw, away off in the distance, some low-lying hills, and made his
way to the foot of them. In search of water to quench his terrible
thirst, he entered a little canyon, and made his way through it to
the very top of one of the little buttes. Here he found a number of
black nuggets, and believed that they were gold, but water was
more precious to him than gold at that time, and he descended to
the desert again and finally crawled to the foot of Smith Moun-
tain, where he, too, found the little spring of life-giving water.
"As soon as he was able to travel, this man came to Los Angeles
to organize a company to go with him back to the desert; but the
hardships he had undergone had been too much for him, and he
tell ill. When he learned that he was going to die he confided to
Dr. De Courcey, his physician, the particulars of his discovery,
and placed in his hands two thousand dollars' worth of gold nug-
gets, which were those he had picked up during the few months
he stayed on the top of the little butte.
"After the death of the miner, Dr. De Courcey spent some time
on the desert attempting to locate the vast treasure, but he did not
succeed, and finally he, too, died.
"At Flowing Wells, on the edge of the Colorado Desert, the
Southern Pacific road has a station, and the agent of the road here
some time ago reported that an Indian squaw came to his place
one day and showed a quantity of gold nuggets. She guarded
them jealously, knowing well their value, but would not talk
freely nor tell where she found them, hut would point to the
direction of Smith Mountain, in line with which would be the three
low hills mentioned by Pegleg Smith. This reticence on the part
of Indians on this coast is general among them, for the story is
that they were told by the Jesuit priests, at the time the Mexican
government expelled them from this country, that the Great
1 This is on a par with a score of statements in this veracious (!) narrative. There
never were any Jesuit priests in Upper California, and those who were in Lower California
were expelled by the Spanish king, Carlos III, long before there was any Mexican govern-
ment.— Author's Note.
306 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
Spirit would punish them if they ever told or showed a white man
where there was gold or silver located.
"Only three months ago a man came across from the Banning
side of the desert to a point about twelve miles above Yuma, and
stopped at a mill near the river to obtain water and rest. He
told the engineer at the mill that he saw many very queer things
on his trip, and took from his pocket a handful of black nuggets
which he said he thought might be lead by the weight, but con-
cluded they were iron pyrites and laid them down. After he
went away the mill man picked up one of the nuggets and with
a file removed the coating. Then he discovered it gold. He
started in pursuit of
the man, overtook
him and learned from
him that he picked
up the nuggets in a
gulch where the wind
and sand had driven
him for shelter, and
where he remained
all night. He said
that there were cart-
loads of that stuff
there. The black
coating over the gold
obscured from him
the value of his find as it has from many others both on the
desert and in the Klondike country.
"The nuggets which this man picked up were just like those
which Pegleg Smith's comrades found, just like those the Indian
brought to Warner's Ranch, and just like those which McGuire
brought to Sa*n Francisco.
"A wealthy citizen of Riverside named Thomas Cover spent
many years in running down clues concerning the location of this
great store of wealth, which he was thoroughly convinced existed
somewhere on the desert, and finally lost his life in a search for
the treasure. He made many trips across the sand wastes and
one proved to be his last. He never returned to civilization.
The pack-biirro fording a stream
Prospecting and Mining on the Desert 307
"There are countless stories about the PeglegMine which might
be related, and not a few of them seem to have the semblance
of truth about them, but those which have been related in the
foregoing are known positively to be based upon the truth.
"People still are living in San Bernardino who knew and have
seen Pegleg Smith and the nuggets of almost pure gold which he
brought from the desert. At Warner's Ranch there are to-day
people who knew the Indian, and who saw his gold. The records
of the San Francisco bank show that McGuire deposited gold
nuggets there worth many thousands of dollars. In fact, the
authentic history shows that McGuire was the only one who fully
realized the magnitude of the find at the time of being on the
ground, and the only one who profited largely from it.
"Numerous stories have been told from time to time, during the
years which have intervened since Pegleg Smith's wonderful
discovery, of Indians and white men who have displayed nuggets
of the same kind as those found by Pegleg Smith's comrades,
and in every instance they have told of their travels across the
desert, of the spring at the base of Smith's Mountain, and of the
three buttes rising up out of the desert between Yuma and San
Bernardino. Somewhere in this mysterious region are the three
hills of gold, told of in all of these tales of the desert. Some-
where, within the grasp of some one who has the hardihood and
the perseverance to find it, lies the vast treasure that Pegleg
Smith came so near calling his own. The day will come, and
the chance is that it is not so very far distant, when the news
will be given to the world that Pegleg Smith's bonanza has been
found, and somebody will be the richer by many millions.
"There is this to be said of the region in which the stories of the
Pegleg Mine discoveries all tend to locate the treasure store:
it is a mineral country, every inch of it. Enough is known about
the awful desert which stretches from the Colorado River nearly
to the sea forever to eliminate the idea that no jrold exists there.
It is there, and it only needs to be found."
^ If they are based upon the truth they slope very considerably from the perpendicular.
— Author's Note.
^ Most of this mineral exists only in the fertile imagination of this newspaper writer.
— Author's Note.
308
The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
"All of the country between the Colorado and the sea is heavily
mineralized, and somewhere in between is the great deposit or
ledge, bearing gold in such quantities that the brain of man
fairly reels at the thought of such great wealth. It has always
been and always will be that such vast treasure stores are hid-
den away from man in most inaccessible places, and he who
discovers the hiding-place must be intrepid and brave even to
foolhardiness. So it was In the frozen north, where man faced
every peril of land and sea to find the gold. So it Is on the
desert, where the bones of many a
brave man are now bleaching In the
glare of the fierce sun.
"There Is abundant evidence to
prove that the Pegleg Mine exists.
So much has been written and told
of the Pegleg Mine and so widely di-
vergent have been the accounts of
Its discoveries that there has grown
up an impression that It may be all a
myth. Such an impression, however,
Is not borne out by the facts re-
garding the wonderful discovery,
which are as much a matter of true
history as those in regard to Wash-
ington crosslnjr the Delaware-
Grizzled old grub-stake prospectors,
with lurid Imaginations stimulated
with copious draughts of desert whisky and 'Old Tom' to-
bacco, have poured so many wild stories about the Pegleg
Mine into the ears of sallow-complexioned tenderfeet that it
is no wonder the whole story has come to be looked upon as a
long stretch of some overwrought imagination. "
It Is seldom that an old prospector or miner runs off In search
of one of these mythical (or real) lost mines. It Is generally the
raw hands that are allured by the prospect of such "easy" gold.
Two such recently came to the little desert town of Mecca.
They bought a burro and provisions to last two healthy men two
or three days. When remonstrated with about starting out on
r
Pcle j\IcGuire
Prospecting aiifl ^Finino- on the Desert .'309
the desert so poorly ecjuipped, one of them seriously repHcd that
while he was a stranger to the desert, his companion had ridden
over it twice (on the train) and had thus hecome "acclimated."
Could human folly transcend this ? Yet these two men took
their lives in their hands and went out on their search. Fortu-
nately no storm or great heat arose or they certainly would have
added their names to the long roll that these "lost mines" have
charged against them. They were gone two days, and when
they returned they acknowledged they had heen on a search for
the long-lost "Pegleg Smith Mine." "But," said one of them,
"w^e've had enough. No more searching for mines; at least,
none for me!"
There have been and are, however, successful mines on the
desert and these are a justification for the hope that others will
be discovered. "Where gold is found in one locality, it may
be tound in another," and "One man's luck may lead to another
man's," are proverbs that the prospector constantly keeps before
him.
The Colorado Desert has always had an attraction for the
prospector from the earliest days of American occupancy — aye,
and long before. Its very desolation seemed to be an allure-
ment. The prospector argues that surely a place which is
obviously so cursed that nothing will grow upon it must have
been created by the Lord of all things for some purpose, and
the only purpose it could possibly have was to carry mineral
hidden somewhere below its forbidding surface. Though trav-
ersed by hostile Indians, the prospector braved its terrors and
went with his patient and sturdy mule or burro determined to
wrest from it all its golden secrets. What a history of woe and
sorrow, of lonely anguish, of horrible death under torture and
fear, the history of the prospectors of the Colorado Desert would
be it one could ever gather its particulars! But it never will be
written, never can be written, as no eye but the All-seeing One,
with the silent and pitiless stars, ever saw the horrors perpetrated
upon the adventurous white men by their crafty and bitter foes.
Poor prospectors for the pelf of the earth, if sufferings and
woes on earth count for anything, in the future your lot will be
made easy. No ordinary city-bred person can more than faintly
310
The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
conceive what such a Hfe means. Where shall the prospector
go ? He must first of all decide that important question. This
decided, he goes to the nearest outfitting point. All love for his
fellows he must stifle. If he has wife and family, kindred or
friends, he must either say them a long "good-by!" or leave
them in doubt as to his whereabouts. He purchases a burro.
Then he "outfits." Flour, bacon, coffee, sugar, beans, dried
fruit, baking powder are the staples. Weight must be con-
sidered. Luxuries are out of the question, and what people
ordinarily consider necessities must be "pared down" to the
smallest weight and bulk. Frying pan, coffee-pot, water canteen,
pick and gold pan, with one or two blankets complete all his
Resting after the day's work
burro can carry. One of the blankets goes under the pack-
saddle and the pack is carefully fastened on. There must be
equal load on either side and it must be so placed that there
will be no rubbing to lame the back of the animal, upon whose
strength and willingness so much depends. With canvas cover-
ing over the pack the diamond hitch is thrown — the despair
of the tenderfoot — and with frying pan, coffee-pot, and gold
pan either tied on the top of the pack or swung loosely in a
gunny-sack affixed to the rope, the sturdy adventurer turns his
back upon civilization, upon luxury, upon association with his
fellows, upon books, newspapers, and a knowledge of current
events, and goes to live a life of solitude, and with death always
before him. His senses must ever be alert, for he must keep
near to water. He must go where his burro can find some
Prospecting and ]Nriiiin<»- on the Desert .". 1 1
slight picking, fur, though a prospector's burro can live where a
goat would starve to death, he must have some wherewithal for
his stomach's coats to grind upon, or the prospector is left alone
in the desert to face the horrors of getting back to civilization
with incredible hardship, or to wander about in that gray sand
with the pitiless sun shining into his brains and robbing them
of life and knowledge so that he wanders around and around
aimlessly, in a fateful circle, until the hideous vultures watch
for his end.
He knows all this, but he grimly clenches his teeth, and walks
over the soft and burning sands into the hard and burning can-
yons, and over the rocky and burning mountains. Wherever
he sees the slightest indication of mineral he picks and chips,
and examines with his little microscope, or tests with the few
chemicals he has in his pockets. When night comes he strips
the pack from his jaded and faithful burro's back, hobbles him
and turns him loose, then opens up his stores. His gold pan
must serve him as a bread pan, or he must mix up his dough
— as I have often done — in the flour at the top of his flour
sack. A few dried cactus plants, or arrow-weeds, or grease-
wood, or sage-brush aftbrd him a fire, and there he tosses his
flapjacks, using the grease from the bacon he has fried to keep
them from sticking. Then at it he goes. He has worked hard
since early morning — long before sun-up — and it wasn't worth
while stopping for lunch, so he is hungry, and flapjacks and
bacon and bacon grease, with milkless coff"ee, are good, and if
he wants dessert he just adds a little sugar to the piece of flap-
jack that is left over and eats it w^ith a relish. Once in a while,
perhaps on Sundays, — though he is never quite sure which is
Sunday, after he has been a few days from tow-n, — he stops
long enough to cook a mess of dried fruit, using the coff"ee-pot as
a stewpan, or he puts it on at night, carefully propped up on
three stones over the fire and with plenty of w-ater to it, so that
it will not all cook away, and lets it simmer all night. Then
with a confidence as simple and serene and unknowing as that of
a newly born babe he spreads out his blankets on the softest
rock he can find, takes a chunk of limestone or sand or lava for
his pillow, covering it with his soft felt hat, and with or without
312 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
a prayer — most likely without — stretches out and for a while
dreams wide awake, gazing up at those same stars that shone
on the patriarchs of old as they wandered to and fro in the des-
erts of Asia Minor. And then soft, gentle, dreamless sleep, the
sleep of the healthfully weary, falls upon him. Heat nor cold
troubles him very much. It is generally cool at night and his
constant outdoor life renders him impervious to all ordinary
variations of temperature.
But now and then a sand-storm comes, and then he must look
out. The winds blow with the force of a hurricane, but the
air is hot, hot, hotter, hottest, and the sand seems to have been
scrubbed and rubbed, one particle against another, until it is
glowing all through with heat. If it is coarse sand it strikes
him with force enough to make pits in his cheek as if he had
had the smallpox. If it is fine he must lie down and cover his
head with a blanket, and put a wet rag over his nose and mouth,
or he will suffocate.
Though it is desert there are times when the flood-gates of
heaven are opened and a new deluge strikes this old earth, with
no other man to wash away than our lonely prospector. If he
is camped in the recesses of a canyon he must instanter, regard-
less of sheets of descending water, climb the steep hillsides to a
place of safety, daring the perilous precipices and the lightning,
which bores zigzag holes of piercing light through the terrible
darkness of the night. I have sat out several such storms, when
old pioneers wrapped their heads up in their blankets and con-
fessed they were afraid — frightfully scared — scared all through
to their very boots. The lightnings were not few and tar between,
but perfect hemispheres of jagged darts of brilliant violet hue
and an intensity that led one to feel it was a special display ar-
ranged for the delectation of the powers above.
Yet, though I have been speaking of water coming down in
floods, a few hours after such a storm one may almost perish
for lack of water. The ground is often impervious and the
water runs off in frightful torrents as fast as it falls. If it is sandy
desert it disappears. The thirsty sand swallows it up, and a
foot down you can kick up dry dust, though the storm seemed
as if it might have soaked through the whole world. And in
rrospccting and ]\liiiino- oii the Desert "i.^
the dry times what will not a man drink ? Oh, you city dwellers,
who must have distilled water and Apollinaris and Shasta and
iced drinks, think just once of the poor prospector at an alkali
pool! Stagnant, dirty, full of filth, a standing place for animals
and fearful night creatures, bitter, salt — yet that is all he can
get. It is lukewarm and sickening. And what encourages him
through all these trials? He "hopes" to strike it rich. He has
what the phrenologist would term a well-developed organ of
hope. He is imaginative. He sees visions. He dreams dreams.
He doesn't look like an idealist; his hands are horny, his nails
untrimmed and black-bordered, his hair and beard are unkempt,
and if he ever shaved no one now would know it. His eyes
seem ever bent downward to the earth, and his lips are as thick
and sensuous as his eyes are dull and heavy. Yet he is a dreamer.
He can see in these inhospitable, barren plains or these dreary,
sandy deserts or these rough and rugged slopes pockets of the
precious metals. He can see his pick discovering them, and
then, in succession, the shaft, the drift, the stope, the bonanza,
the mill, the bricks of precious metal, and the hoard at the bank.
He sees his wife in silks, satins, and diamonds riding in her car-
riage drawn by fiery horses driven by liveried coachmen; or
himself in an automobile with a French chauffeur. He sees a
brownstone front, with lackeys innumerable, and a table covered
with finest linen set forth with cut glass and silver and loaded
with every delicacy the markets afford. Who sits at the head
there t Who moves about in this lordly mansion, smoking
twenty-five-cent cigars and giving orders with consciousness of
314 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
power and right ? Who saunters into the Hbrary to meet dis-
tinguished guests or to greet the flower of society in the parlor
or drawing-room ? It is he, the dreamer, the prospector, the
burro-driver, the eater of flapjacks and bacon, the sleeper under
the stars, the shelterless wretch of the storm.
Ah! there is an allurement in these dreams that exercises such
a power of fascination over minds as renders weak the bewitch-
ing enchantment of a Lorelei or the singing of the sirens. Once
let a man yield and his course of life is cut out for the whole of
his days. Should he strike it rich his dreams will come true.
He sees the Clark mines of the Verde at Jerome. He remem-
bers the Copper Queen, the Anaconda, the Comstock.
But, alas, should he be taken ill! Who is there out in that
forsaken place to care for him ? He tries his simple remedies,
in his extremity tries herbs the hidians have shown him how to
use. He is too weak to gather wood, to go for water, to light a
fire. He grows weaker day by day. Now and again he faints,
and the hours Ry past and he wakens parched with fever and
the deadly glare of the unsympathizing sun. His burro wanders
off forgotten, the rats and other vermin come and watch. The
timid lizards even approach nearer. The cottontails look on
with great, brown, liquid eyes, and even the dread ot the desert,
the rattlesnake, comes and coils upon his breast, starting with
surprise when the yet alive wretch makes some meaningless
movement in his pain. The hours pass. The darkness of night
follows the brilliancy of the day. Still he lies, but he moves not.
The lizards runs over his face and he makes no stir, the rats
gnaw at his flour sack and he hears them not. There is a flap-
ping of wings heard above, and a great black, bald-headed bird
with hideous beak and great bleary eyes swoops down upon him,
and dreams and dreamer are at an end.
Recently I met an old soldier prospecting on the desert. He
fought at Chickamauga with the 59th Ohio. He was now,
though old and feeble, prospecting for gold on the desert. When
I asked him how many claims he had he replied, "I've eleven
grandchildren, and there's one for each. I never expect much
for myself, but they'll all be rich." And then the poor old fel-
low took a bottle out of a sack, from which he drank to the
Prospecting and Minino- on tlie Desert .'>15
success of his mine, saying, "You'll excuse my not offering it to
you. It's only rain-water." The miners and teamsters were
all kind to him, bringing in the few supplies he needed and
helping him wherever possible, yet there was a deep pathos in
the sight of the old man, one foot in the grave, tottering along
slowly and carefully, creeping with painful deliberation over the
rocky trails, peering everywhere with eyes that should he at rest,
for indications of the gold that is to make his grandchildren rich.
I once asked an old and experienced prospector what advice
he had to offer to those who thought of going on to the desert
in search of the precious metals. His immediate response was,
"Tell them to stay at home." He then continued: "To be a
good prospector a man must be well prepared in a variety of ways.
He must be able quickly to determine the general character
of the country over which he passes, hence he must have some
knowledge of dynamics, general geology, mineralogy, and chem-
istry. He must have nerve and backbone, for danger is his
constant companion, yet he must be most cautious, for fool-
hardiness is quickly rebuked on the desert. One day of risk,
going without water, or attempting to go too far, may have fatal
results. In wandering into these ranges alone one should al-
ways put up small monuments — just a few stones piled to-
gether — to show the way back to the nearest water-hole, for
many a man has lost his life through being unable to get back to
where he last watered. The fact of the matter is there are very
few men qualified to be prospectors, and that is the reason so few,
comparatively, succeed. With most of them it is pure good
luck. If they strike anything it just happens so. The major
part of the men now out had far better be at home."
After the winter rains the trails often almost disappear. The
plants and flowers soon cover what the water has failed to wash
away. Then is the time for the prospector to be careful. With
such uncertain trails, and the danger of being lured away by the
trails of the mountain sheep, he may find himself miles aw-ay
from his destination and with nothinir save his own iudfrment —
O Jo
which may be good or bad — to guide him over the maze of
gullies, ravines, draws, divides, ridges, canyons, and valleys
with which he is beset.
31G The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
One could fill several books with the stories that are told of the
peculiar characters of some of the old desert prospectors. Old
Quartz Wilson is one of them. He had the prospector's high
hopes, and his equally vivid imagination. Every time he came
in from a trip he brought specimens of quartz v^hich he solemnly
informed you were simply "buggy" with gold. "Why, man,
that's thousand-dollar quartz if it's anything," he'd say. That's
how he got his name, — Quartz Wilson. His exuberant imagina-
tion and enthusiastic eloquence have fooled many a man. He
would expatiate on the value of his ore and the extent of his
prospect, until those who did not know could vividly see a valuable
mine before them. Lured by the golden picture, they would make
overtures to Quartz to take them out to see it. Then one should
have been present to hear the flow of
rhetoric. It was brilliant, and all on
that dazzling subject, unlimited gold.
Arrangements would be made, teams
provided, "grub" enough for a party
for a month, and with a confidence
born of his own imagination Ouartz
would drive off into the desert to
7^/ifA^frT- '^l,; show his victims his "mine." For by
An old prospector "°^ ^^^ prospect hole had developed
into a mine worth half a million.
One perhaps may imagine the disgust of the tenderfeet as their
illusions were dispelled. Yet even this was done in a tactful
manner. Quartz would not take his visitors directly to his
prospect hole, but would spend the first day in driving around,
— "showing them the lay of the land," he called it. The next
day he would give them an idea of the extent of the ore possibilities
by showing them all the scratchings he had made, here and there,
in the range. Then, as they grew impatient and asked, " But
where's the mine. Quartz?" he would be compelled to confess
that the only mine he had was a prospect hole. \n another
chapter I have told of our meeting Quartz at Twenty-Nine Palms,
and the fact that although such stories as the above are told of
him he is an expert prospector and has discovered some good
mines.
Prospecting and ]\[ining on the Desert 317
It is not my purpose to exploit the mines of the Colorado
Desert, and there are too many to describe in detail. I deem it
best, therefore, to give the full history of one unpretentious and
typical mine as broadly representative of the others. First comes
the prospector; he discovers the ledge. If the ore assays well
he locates upon it and it becomes his "claim" or "location."
This necessitates the doing, each year, of not less than one hundred
dollars' worth of work upon it, which is called "doing the assess-
ment," and which must be done annually until the claim is
patented. A patent is granted by the United States whenever
five hundred dollars' worth of assessment work has been done,
and this entitles the holder to surface land, 1,500 feet in length
and 600 feet in width, with all the minerals underneath it. If
the locator fails to do his assessment work his claim may be
"jumped," that is, relocated by some one else. Each year the
locator must make affidavit that he has done his work. If this
is not done he is liable to lose his claim by another person's
relocation. When he secures his patent all assessment work
ceases, for the patent is practically a deed to the property, which
can henceforth be sold or transferred as any other property.
But, as will be seen from the following history of the Brooklyn
Mine, the securing of a patent does not make a "mine." The
prospect hole must be developed; shafts must be sunk, levels
established, the extent of the pay streak discovered, winzes (blind
shafts that do not come to the surface), drifts (tunnels which
connect with some other tunnel or shaft and not with the outside),
stores (a following of the ore body from one level to another),
inclines (a sloping shaft leading from one level to another, higher
or lower), together with galleries, cross-cuts, chutes, upraises,
and air-shafts, made as required. All this is expensive work, and
is called "developing the mine."
In some cases, where large capital is interested, all this is done
at once, with as great speed as possible, regardless of expense.
But in the case of a smaller mine, or one handled by men with
smaller capital, it is the aim, as far as possible, to make the mine
pay for its own development. This has been done in the case
of the Brooklyn Mine to which I will now devote my attention.
The Brooklyn is a busy little mine of two three-stamp mills
318 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
located in the heart of a small canyon of the Pinto range. After
a weary twenty-three miles from Cottonwood we rounded the
point of the canyon and slowly plodded along up the rough and
rugged road to the camp. Up a steep hill cut in the face of the
granite, on the side of which the new mill is erected, on to its
crest, and there, snugly ensconced in a granite "pocket" we found
the camp. Houses, kitchen, dining-rooms, stable, quarters for
the men, and the mill, the latter perched on a knoll above the
former, had changed the aspect from one of wild, untamed
wilderness of rocky grandeur, to one of man's occupancy.
These mines were discovered in 1 890-1 by John Burt, an old-
time prospector of the district, whose name is preserved in Burt's
Lake, hi 1892, Burt and Botsford, the latter a mining man of
Los Angeles, located several claims in the region and worked
them together for some time. They then dissolved their partner-
ship, and in the division of their interests Botsford took these
claims as his, while Burt preferred those on the other side of the
mountain. Botsford continued to work his claim until 1899,
doing little more than the necessary development work required
to hold it, though he did ship a few tons of ore to the mill to
learn definitely the value of his ore body.
In 1899, Messrs. Ames and Yaeger, two Oregonians who were
looking for a mine, and who had traveled through California,
Arizona, New Mexico, and part of Mexico in search of what they
wanted, decided that these claims would suit them. The price
and terms at which they were offered enabled them to handle
them, so the transfer was made and they became the owners.
Ames was a practical miner and at once proceeded to develop the
mines as rapidly as their limited means would allow. A three-stamp
mill of the standard type and weight was erected, so that the ore
could be worked on the spot. It was found to be rather a difficult
ore to work. The ore rests in contact with talc matter, and when
this is crushed and wet in the mill it makes a slimy mixture that
renders the amalgamation of the gold with the quicksilver very
slow. Another disadvantage of the slimy character of the
mixture is that the quicksilver amalgamates with the baser and
the useless metals and this naturally retards the absorption of gold.
Water for operating the mill and also for domestic purposes
Prospecting and Mining on the Desert sii)
had to be hauled during the whole of this time from Cottonwood,
twentv-three miles away, every gallon costing fully five cents,
so that the disadvantages of operating can well be seen. For
two years, however, the mill was kept in pretty steady operation,
enough ore being taken from the claims to pay for the extension
work, or the fuller development of the mine. At the end of two
years Yaeger sold out his interest, and Ames, with three others,
incorporated the "Brooklyn Mining Company," with two hun-
dred thousand shares at one dollar each. The shares were all
taken up by the incorporators and none were placed on the
market. The new company at once proceeded to put in a water
plant of their own. They dug a well one hundred eighty feet
deep in the bed of a dry lake, known as Burt's Lake, on the other
side of the mountain, seven and one-half miles north, laid pipes
to the Brooklyn, installed a pumping plant, with adequate tanks,
etc., and were soon raising water from the well to the mine 1,200
feet higher and on the other side of the range. This required a
ten horse-power engine, and the pipe used was from one to two
inch inside diameter. The daily capacity of this plant was 7,000
gallons; far more than sufficient for all their purposes. It was
found that they used about two hundred gallons of water for every
ton of ore crushed. In 1904 the "Seal of Gold" Mining Company
bought a half-interest in the water and pumping plant (as they
were practically without water and the Brooklyn had an excess
supply), and a corporation, composed of officers of both mining
companies, w^as formed to operate the pumping plant. A price
is charged both mining companies for the water, ranging from
three-eighths to one-fourth of a cent per gallon, according to the
amount used. After the expenses of operation are paid any
surplus in the hands of the Water Company is divided and is thus
returned to the owning mining companies. The water is fairly
good — for the desert — though the solid matter amounts to
eighty grains to the gallon, and the sulphate of lime, chloride of
sodium, salts of magnesia, borax, gypsum, etc., give it a taste that
is very noticeable to one from "the inside."
Yet the miners tell me that in a week or so after cominjr to the
mme they not only fail to notice the peculiar flavor, but miss it
when they return to "ordinary" water.
320 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
The mine is now well enough developed to show reasonable
promise. The main shaft is down two hundred seventy feet
and at the fifty foot, one hundred foot, one hundred fifty foot,
and two hundred toot levels, as well as at the lowest level, tunnels
have been run and winzes made so that the ore body is largely
exposed and ready for "stoping." The ore is quartz in a diorite
formation, and the ledge is well defined, though the whole forma-
tion is considerably shattered. As before remarked, there is a
large amount of talc matter in the ledge.
At the time of my visit in April, 1906, a new mill of a special type
for the handling of these slimy ores was being put in place, and ere
this it is doubtless in successful operation.
This new machinery has put the mine somewhat in debt, but
as all the ordinary development has been made to pa)^ its own
expenses, and this has been carried on to such an extent that
large ore bodies are already exposed, it is a certainty that a very
short time will see all debts cleared off and the mine will then
bring in a sure, steady, and substantial return to its owners.
This is what I call legitimate mining, an industry that is highly
honorable and commendable and as entirely opposed to the
stock-jobbing operations of the so-called financiers of our stock
exchanges as is the work of the toiling farmer in the field opposed
to and different from the wheat manipulators whose chief desire
is to "secure" and "hold" a corner.
The difficulties of mining in such inhospitable localities are
hard to appreciate. Some of these I have already referred to.
But in addition there is the great distance from supplies. Even
suppose a mine has telephonic communication with the "inside,"
that does but little to relieve the pressure. Something goes wrong
with the engine, a cam of a machine breaks, a new wheel is
required. Everything must stop until it comes. A telephone
and telegraphic message is sent to the foundry in Los Angeles
or San Francisco. The urgency of the case is stated. The
required article has to be made perhaps. Then it must be
shipped. If heavy it comes by freight. If lighter, by express.
It reaches the nearest station, as, for instance, on the Southern
Pacific, Palm Springs, Indio, Mecca, or Ogilby, or, on the Santa
Fe, Amboy, Bagdad. From thence it must be hauled either
Prospecting and ^VFinlno- on tlic Desert 321
on the express stage at a ruinously heavy charge, or wait
until a wagon can be sent in, — a trip which requires not less
than five or six days. So that even when dispatch is used and
things come by express at five times the original cost of the
article, from one to two weeks are required, while if they come
by freight and wagon from three to four weeks are expended.
During all this time the mill, or engine, or pumping plant is at a
standstill. Other work must be found for the men thus thrown
out of employment, as it would be unreasonable to expect en-
gineers and others to lose their work and wages under such cir-
cumstances, even if it were not impossible to secure fresh men to
take their places were they dismissed or allowed to return "inside."
Picacho (ilte peak) and Picacho mining camp
Then, too, think of the isolation of men thus thrust out from
intercourse with all but very few of their fellow men. The refining
influences of women can seldom be felt, for lumber and labor
are so expensive that the mine owners cannot afford to make
provision for housing the wives and families of their men, and
even if they could and did there are few wives who would be
willing to submit to the social isolation and physical discomforts
of desert life.
Hence many desert mines are favored with little female society,
which the miners largely deplore. Yet they are a happy and
cheerful lot as a rule, and make the best of circumstances they
cannot help. They have their own way of looking at things
and also their own names. For instance, a desert miner calls
322 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
his valise a "turkey," and if he goes "inside" without his blankets
and with only a small valise, or one which contains little, he is
said to "fly light."
In writing of the difficulties of desert mining I overlooked the
question of fires.
At the Brooklyn Mine they use mesquite for fire-wood. In
1906 they are sending wagons a distance of twelve, fifteen, and
eighteen miles for a supply. The superintendent says that his
men report it is now so scarce that next year he must plan to
secure coal, for wood will be too far away to pay the cost of cut-
ting and hauling.
As we started off from the Brooklyn the superintendent non-
chalantly handed to one of the men who was going "inside" a
gold brick — not the fictitious, but the real thing — which, he
informed me, weighed six and one-quarter pounds. At $200 a
pound, this small and insignificant looking brick was worth
$1,250.
In addition to the precious metals there are other important
mineral deposits on the desert.
Semi-precious stones have been found near Pala, and on the
edge of the desert near San Felipe.
Mica has also been found, but not in large enough quantities
to pay. Yet I am convinced that subsequent search will find
large deposits both of mica and asbestos. These minerals are
yearly in growing demand. Mica is becoming extremely valu-
able owing to the fact that the amount used in the United States
has increased very largely. In every electric-light bulb there is
a mica washer, mica being the only suitable insulating medium
known. It is also used in stoves, lanterns, and Welsbach chim-
neys. The demand for sheet mica is greatly in excess of the
supply, the only mica found in the United States at the present
time coming from the mines of New Hampsh re and North
Carolina.
Ground mica is used in great quantities in the manufacture
of mica axle-grease, which is used by many of the railroad com-
panies as packing for oil-boxes. It is also used largely in the
manufacture of wall-paper, of fire-proof roofing-paper, and for
the packing of fire-proof safes. Ground mica in the East
Prospecting and ^Mining on tlie Desert 323
fetches from three to five cents per pound, and is greatly in
demand.
It is ahnost indispensable in modern manufacture. There is
nothing that takes its place as an insulator in electrical machin-
ery. The government uses it as a covering for compasses, and
it is sometimes used in windows, as the concussion from the fir-
ing of heavy guns does not break it like glass. Mica is used
extensively as a covering for steam-pipes, to take the place of
asbestos. Nearly all fire-proof material is manufactured with
mica as a base, owing to its efficiency as a non-conductor of heat.
Asbestos is equally valuable, and I have seen fine specimens
found on the desert in San Diego County.
Plowine; salt
in the Saltan Basin
In one or two places on the desert indications of oil have been
found. At one spot these were so pronounced that the finder
went to Riverside, organized a company, which sent out a bor-
ing outfit to drive a well. The well was driven about one hun-
dred feet down, when a flow of gas was struck. An explosion
followed, the derrick was overthrown, and everj'thing wrecked.
The work was abandoned and nothing more has been done
with it.
In the San Jacinto Mountains, a few miles northwest from
Mecca, Mr. J. P. Read discovered a deposit of marble. It was
opened and the stone found to be of excellent quality, and of a
pure ivory white, almost like a billiard ball. Unfortunately it
does not occur in unbroken strata. As far as the mine, or quarry,
is now developed the marble is not in large enough sections to
324
The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
make it commercially valuable. The quality is the best yet dis-
covered on the American continent, and eminent sculptors have
declared it equal to the finest Carrara tor the purposes of sculp-
ture. As the largest pieces, however, are only about ei^ht or
ten inches square, it is practically useless for the art. It is most
probable that the breakage or shattering of the stratum occurred
during one of the seismic disturbances of which this region is
a center. It may be possible, however, that further develop-
ment of the mine will reveal the marble unshattered and in large
mass. It will then become a most valuable property, equal, in-
deed, to a good gold or silver mine.
Before the great flood of 1905-6 which converted the
Salton Basin into the Salton Sea, vast deposits of salt were
found near the station of Salton. When these deposits were
The new
Liverpool salt-works
first discovered, some thirty years ago, they were found to be
unusually pure and free from sediment, and subsequent work-
ings of the stratum have shown that this is a dominating feature
of the deposits. It is interesting and important, therefore, to
look somewhat into the geological history of this salt and seek
for the cause of its deposition and unusual purity. It is generally
regarded that there are but two ways of accounting for the
existence of a salt lake, viz., i. That it is caused by the isolation
of a portion of sea-water in the process of uplift which changes
the sea-bottom to land. 2. By the constant concentration of
river-water in a lake which has no outlet.
In the first instance it is readily seen that if there be an uplift
of a sea-bottom region so that a portion of it is shut off from
the main ocean, the isolated waters will be salt as was the main
body. As evaporation takes place the deposition of salt will
I'll
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I
.-it. ' »• t
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; ' .<
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s
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c
■A
o
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r ■
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Prospecting and Mining on the Desert 325
occur. But as sea-water contains much gypsum, and this min-
eral is insokihle in saturated brine, it is always deposited first,
and upon it occur the successive layers of salt. But in the mean-
time the rivers emptying into the lake are bringing down their
constant supply of sediment and also of more saline matters
chemically extracted or washed out of the rocks and soils through
which they pass. These are also deposited, so that the beds
possess alternate layers of sediment and salt. These are of
varying thicknesses owing to the volume of flood waters and the
amount of sediment poured into the lake basin.
In the second case the concentration and deposition of the
salts and sediments are so complex as to render the salt almost
valueless.
The unusual quantity and purity of the deposits in the Salton
Basin, therefore, cannot be accounted for by either of these
methods, and some other source must be found for their exist-
ence. This I am assured is found in the hot salt springs which
exist near the mud volcanoes elsewhere described. As there
stated, in the very midst of the bubbling quicksands and mud
was a laro-e natural bowl into which hot water and steam were
being forced as if through a vent-pipe. It hissed and roared so
as to be heard tor a long distance, and the steam rushed out in
large volume. I had no thermometer by which to determine
the heat of the water, but it was evidently ver}- hot. The bowl
itself was of solid travertin and pieces ot it rang musically when
struck. Connected with this bowl was a small lake or pond
of greenish-looking water. On tasting it I found it so salt that
It surprised me into swallowing a mouthful, to my intense dis-
gust. Here, then, we have the source of the salt. The hot
carbonated and saline waters carried their burdens into the lake.
The carbonates were deposited in the form of travertin, several
masses of which are found in the Salton region, while the saline
matter was deposited in beds ready for the discovery of man in
the nineteenth century, to be worked and mined for a while,
and then to be buried again under the waters of the newly formed
Salton Sea.
Professor Bailey of the California Mining Bureau calls the
barren part of the Salton Basin a "playa." When this portion
326
The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
of the Gulf of California was shut off from the main sea and
formed a lake, as evaporation took place the irregularities
of the floor of the lake were ultimately revealed in pools of com-
paratively small area. The Salton Basin is thus the bowl of
the valley, surrounded by its encircling mountains. This bowl
naturally received the concentration of salty and other sediments
in the water, and when the final evaporation took place the whole
bowl was so permeated with chemical constituents hostile to
verdure that nothing grows naturally in its area. This soon
becomes covered with a coating more or less thick with mud,
and these mud plains are playas.
The lake that existed prior to the playa Professor Bailey
names Le Conte Lake after Professor Joseph Le Conte, the
geologist of the California State University, one of the greatest
of the world's dynamic geologists.
The New Liverpool Salt Company began work on the salt
beds of the Salton Basin in 1884, and produced that year some
1,500 tons. Its location is 75 miles west of Yuma and 180
miles east of Los Angeles, and its elevation is 265 feet below
sea-level.
Two analyses of the salt show its remarkable purity, there
being an absence of earthy chlorides and sulphates:
Sodium Chloride 94
Sodium Sulphate
Calcium Sulphate
Magnesium Sulphate 3
Water
Insoluble
68
68
n
12
75
97.76
.70
.38
.96
.20
100.00 100.00
Owing to this purity none of the ordinary machinery of salt-
works was needed, the mill plant consisting only of machinery
for grinding and bagging the salt for shipment.
During active operations at the works the sight was most
interesting. A number of Coahuilla Indians, strong, finely
formed men, did the work. The salt was plowed by means of
Prospecting and Mining on the Desert 327
plows attached to bands that traveled across the salt bed from
one engine to another. The furrows cut were eight feet wide
and six inches deep, and each plow was capable of harvesting
over seven hundred tons per day. The salt was then scraped
up into immense piles and conveyed by a tram railway to the
works where Japanese and Indians ground it, sacked it, and
shipped it to the various markets. Its price varied from six
dollars to thirty-six dollars per ton, according to quality. While
there were over a thousand acres of this saline deposit, such was
Station at Iitdio
the richness of the field that comparatively only about a hun-
dredth part of its area was ever worked. As soon as one crop
was harvested, another would flow in from the springs before
referred to, and as evaporation was exceedingly rapid a pure layer
of salt, from ten to twenty inches in thickness, would be formed.
To show that the deposit must have been from the springs, I
give the following results of boring:
1. Below the salt crust was six inches of mud, resting on
2. Seven inches of a crusi composed of chlorides of sodium
and magnesium.
328 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
3. Twenty-two feet of black ooze containing fifty per cent of
water, and carrying both the chlorides and carbonates of sodium
and magnesium.
4. The rest of the three hundred feet of the boring was in hard
clay, with a few streaks of cement.
Burdick in his "Mystic Mid Region" tells an interesting
story connected with these deposits that, with a slight addition,
is worth retelling here.
Until 1901 the title to the lands was vested in the United States
Government, and the Liverpool Salt Company had no title to
the property and no legal right to the harvest. A rival com-
pany, the Standard Salt Company, discovered that the new
Liverpool concern had no title and at once called the attention
of the government officials to the fact in such a way that they
were compelled to act. The company was ordered to vacate.
A bill was then introduced in Congress providing for filing
claims upon saline lands, and the bill was duly passed by the
Senate, January 22, 1901. While awaiting the signature of the
President to make it law, things became interesting on the desert.
Each company had men on land adjoining the salt fields, with
location notices written, ready to race to the choicest portions of
the field, and post them as soon as the telegraph should apprise
them that the bill was signed. Of course each company had its
agent at Washington ready to send the news, which would be re-
ceived at the telegraph station nearest to the salt deposits, viz.,
Mecca, over twelve miles away.
The Liverpool Company arranged for a gang of men to take
out their messenger on a pump-car such as the section men use
in doing their work on the railway. The other had a fine team of
horses and a buggy ostentatiously in view, close at hand, and it
was supposed that the locations would finally depend upon the race
between this team and the pump-car. But wit and knowledge
made it easier than that. A system of flash signals had been
agreed upon, and when the long-expected message came, the one
company sent off" its locators on the car, while the other flashed
its signals with a mirror to its representatives on the ground, so
that when their rival appeared the notices were already posted
and their eff'orts were found to be in vain.
Prospecting and Mining on the Desert 329
After this triumph of the Standard Company a compromise
was effected whereby it was placed on an equal footing with the
Liverpool Company.
I have elsewhere recorded how the flooding of the Salton Basin
by the waters of the Colorado River has completely drowned
out the salt-works. Every vestige has disappeared. Even the
hot springs that supplied the salt are submerged, and what will
appear when the floods are controlled is as yet a matter of mere
conjecture.
I i^-i: :.f • :i"i::> i i
330
Sign-boards on the Desert 33 1
CHAPTER XXI
Sign-boards on the Desert
^IGN— BOARDS in cities and on roads in populous coun-
tries are regarded as imperative necessities. What
then must they be to men out on the desert where
trails are often obHterated, where there is no one
"standing by" to whom you can turn for direction,
where there is not a house or a camp for a score of
miles, where water-holes or pockets or wells are far
apart, often hidden and hard to find, where it is impossible to
carry much water, and where the heat is often so intense that to
be without water is to court swift and certain death ?
Only those who have wildly wandered about hunting for a
water-tank, or pocket, or a hidden spring, or have stood in be-
wilderment at a fork in the trail, uncertain and indistinct at its
best, can tell the crying need for sign-posts on the desert. Scores
of men have lost their lives through the slight mistake of turning
to the left instead of to the right, and as many more have perished
of thirst when water was within their reach had they known just
where. Yet such is the nature of many men that, just so soon as
their own danger and peril are over, they forget the need of others
similarly circumstanced, and in the immediate pressure of their
own necessities leave "the other fellow" to fight his own battles.
But once in a while a man will have an experience that calls forth
all his sympathies for his fellow men in similar circumstances. It
arouses him to personal action and vigorous agitation as to the
needs of his fellow travelers. Such has been the case on the
desert. Several city men, used to a sign at every street corner,
going out to visit prospects or mines on the desert, improperly
guided perhaps, going weary miles on the wrong trail, finding
themselves in desperate straits for want of water and want cl
knowledge as to its whereabouts, have returned to civilization
332 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
possessed with a strong desire to better such conditions. They
have urged Chambers of Commerce, Mining Boards, City Councils,
County Commissioners, State AssembHes, and Senates to remedy
the evil and minify the dangers by placing sign-posts on the junc-
tions of the roads and trails and also pointing out M'here and hov/
far away water is to be found.
The first step in this humane and important work was under-
taken in San Diego County.
In 1895, James A. Jasper of San Diego, California, then a super-
visor of the Third District of San Diego County, at the expense of
the county and district road fund, placed guide-boards a mile apart
on the Yuma road from Campo to the Mexican line, and also
from the San Felipe ranch,
alons the old Butterfield stage
road to Laguna, where a junc-
tion was
formed with
the Campo
line. Each
guide-board
■?.-!-"i/.'l I. \ '
a» -~-
^-"■■t ' i ■'^•' A^*^ "^ ■ ■■' "'^■■•■-^^•-- ■ was of iron
• V i^^sfn^ and gave
One of Supervisor Jasper's guide-posts ^lot only di-
rections and
distances as to the road, but also to the known water-holes on the
desert, and was placed on a post made of large gas-pipe which
was well-grounded. The directions were painted on the iron,
but unfortunately many of them are not legible to-day. It is a
great pity that Mr. Jasper's work was not followed up, and
guide-posts placed on every road and trail, and especially giving
directions to desert travelers as to the location of the water-holes.
The need to-day is greater than ever before, for, as the country
increases in population, a greater proportion will desire to go out
and prospect on the desert for precious metals.
One has but to read the "Precious Metals" department of the
Los Angeles Times to see the growing interest there is in this
subject. An expert is engaged who answers questions about
the value of minerals of different kinds. Hundreds of men are
0
o
o
o
z
o
en
<
o
D
O
Sign-boards on the Dcser 333
already engaged in prospecting and hundreds more each year
go out on the same fascinating but solitar}', arduous, and dangerous
undertaking.
Where the state and county have failed to make provision in
this regard those who have located prospects often put up rude
sign-boards of their own. I have often met with such on my
desert wanderings.
Sometimes you will come to a trail or road branching off from
the main road, and there you will find a primitive sign-board
and mail-box, — the latter generally a condensed milk box or one
that has held a wholesale supply of patent medicines. The lid
is fastened on (when there is one) with leather hinges, and on it
will be some such legend as "Please leave and take mail. J. S.
Crawford, San Diego and Granite Mine."
What primitive simplicity and faith in man's neighborly help-
fulness! If a man is at the post-office thirty-five or more miles
away and knows he is coming "by way of Crawford's," he sug-
gests to the postmaster, "You'd better give me the old man's
mail." He takes it along and leaves it in the box as he passes
by. Another casual passer, going to town, seeing mail in the box
takes it and duly drops it in the letter-box when he arrives.
Early this year (1906) Riverside County took hold of the sign-
board question in a thorough and businesslike manner. The
county supervisors decided it was time to give protection to the
small and quiet army of men who seek to add to the wealth of the
country by the discovery of the precious metals, and they ordered
that sign-boards be placed on every road and trail, and wherever
it was deemed wise to direct to wells, water-holes, or pockets on
the whole of the desert area comprised in their county. A man
thoroughly familiar wit^h the desert, Mr. William Covington, was
entrusted with the work of determining where the sign-boards
should be placed, the computing of the distances to be marked on
the sign-boards, both to mines and water-holes as well as desert
settlements, and finally with the work of putting the posts in posi-
tion. On one of my desert trips I met Mr. Covington and his
assistant during this work. The posts were of thick piping,
anchored to the ground to iron crosspieces. The sign was of
perforated zinc, so that the storms of a thousand years cannot
334 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
obliterate the directions given, so long as the posts remain standing.
In many instances I tested the distances as closely as I could esti-
mate without instruments, and found them accurate. A mining
man recently tested some of them with a roadometer and found
them correct. The result is that any intelligent child can now
traverse the desert, as far as Riverside County is concerned, and
by the aid of
these posts go
with safety and
certainty in every
direction. Per-
sonally and on
behalf of the
small army of
prospectors and
desert travelers I
wish to extend to
the officials of
Riverside County
cordial thanks tor
the performance
of this 1 o n o; ■
nee
ded
service.
Old cave dwelling in Taiiqiiitch Canyon
and to assure
them that few of
their official acts
will secure for
them more last-
ing and hearty
praise than this.
To arouse the state and his own county, Mr. George W. Par-
sons, a mining man of Los Angeles, after making an arduous
desert trip and feeling the need of these signs, at once set to work
with characteristic energy to secure official action. February 3,
1904, the Los Angeles Chamber of Commerce, at his suggestion,
called the attention of the county officials to the recent discovery
of thirty or more victims of thirst on the desert, and urged the erec-
tion of sign-boards and the caring for the water-holes. As yet.
Sign-boards on the Desert 335
however, Los Angeles County has done Uttle. The state has left
the matter to the counties.
It is not altogether on the great highways of travel from district
to district, where the road is now heing well blazed by hundreds
of people, that these sign-boards are most needed, but in parts
where the lonely prospector finds himself isolated and perhaps
lost for lack of some one to guide him aright. Many such a one
has perished from thirst when within a few hundred yards of
water.
But it is hardly enough to direct the thirsty one to water if he
is to find it inaccessible for lack of something to reach it with, or
so foul or polluted as to cause man and beast to sicken at its sight
and smell. In all the work that has been done by the Los Angeles
Chamber of Commerce the greatest stress has been laid upon the
last suggested need. Buckets and ropes should be provided and
provision made to protect the water from filth and prevent the
well from becoming a death trap for animals whose decaying
corpses ruin the water.
There are six counties where action is especially needed, viz.,
San Bernardino, Inyo, and Kern in California, and Esmeralda,
Nye, and Lincoln in Nevada.
In Nevada the sparsely populated conditions of the entire state
in the past has left the long-isolated, little-developed southern
counties with but slight funds for any improvements. With the
increased revenue from the new districts, mining men hope for an
improvement in the conditions that will redound to their benefit.
It is sincerely to be hoped that not another year will pass before
this lamentable lack on the desert will be abundantly supplied.
■:i
1^^^'^
i^m.
I«t4
l£ *-!■"
^^ -■
M
On the trail to San Jacinto Peak
336
The Tragedies of the Desert
337
CHAPTER XXII
The Tragedies of the Desert
«rk
[HE tragedies of the desert are numberless. Its
dry sands have taken their large toll of human
life even as the sea has taken its toll.
This chapter is not designed to he an historical
recital, but merely a suggestion of the kind of
tragedies that have occurred. The deaths on
the march of those going to and fro, the simple
head-boards, their inscriptions cut with pocket
knives, and oftener without more than a written inscription, used
to be very common on the desert. Even now it is no uncom-
mon thing to read an item in the local papers similar to one
which I saw the other day. It told of a skeleton being picked
up between McCoy's Springs and the old Chuckwalla Placers.
Only the skull and parts of the bones of the trunk were found
together. Near by was a gold watch. There was also an unused
gold pan with the remains.
A man named William M. Thompson made the discovery
and he wrote the officials as follows: "We put the bones in a
shallow hole and marked the place with four greasewood sticks
tied together at the top with a red handkerchief. We had noth-
ing else with which to mark the remains." This was in De-
cember, 1905.
Some time later another item appeared stating that a wagon
and miner's outfit had been found not very far (a few miles)
away. This outfit was supposed to belong to a prospector and
miner named Raidamaker, who had been lost — had totally dis-
appeared — for nearly three years. He had some locations in
the desert in San Bernardino County and was on his way there
when he was lost. It is explained that most likely his mules
got away from him, and he thoughtlessly started out after them
(Biwi;
338 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
without a supply of food or water. Sure it is that he never
returned, and his deserted wagon was left to rust and disinte-
grate in the sand-storms, winds, rains, and torrid heat of the
desert.
This was supposed to be the rational connection between the
skeleton on the one hand and the deserted wagon on the other,
but the other day (April, 1906) as I came from this region to
Dos Palmas I found an old miner and prospector, named Baker,
camped there, who asked me if I knew anything further of the
skeleton the discovery of which I have related above. When I
told him no, he said: "I believe that was a German named
Davids who started out prospecting with me thirteen years ago
from Yuma. We aimed for the Chuckwalla Mountains. We
were strangers to each other,
but when we met in Yuma and
T? "f 5 *; found we were both on the same
iSHI^'tfe^' ' -, |/\ll errand we made up a partner-
'''«. Y'/ ship and started out. We
reached Mule Springs all right,
A Coahuilla basket and the morning after our ar-
rival he started out to prospect.
He didn't come back that night and I got quite uneasy, so when
morning came and I had had my breakfast I couldn't stand
it any longer and between nine and ten started off to look for
him. I followed his trail for quite a while until a sand-storm
came up and I had to quit. The next day I tried again and
caught his trail on the flat where the wind couldn't blow it away,
but another and fiercer sand-storm came up and it was so hard
on me that I had great difficulty in getting back to the springs.
I lay there sick for some days and then concluded I had better
go back to Yuma. I never could find hide nor hair of Davids,
and from the fact that he had a gold watch and a new gold
pan same as they say were found with the remains, I put it up
that they were his. Poor Davids!"
What a field for tragic imagination lies in this very simple
statement! That a man can be lost for thirteen years and no
trace of him be found, and that when bleached and scattered
bones are found there are more than one claimant for them, —
Tlie Tragedies of the Desert 339
this is to suggest the possihihty of many desert honors that can
never be written, because they can never be known.
It is not the white man's mental habit to think much of the
Indians in connection with the word "tragedy." Let me here
bring them into conjunction and present two or three pictures.
The first finds two Indian sisters at Palm Springs happy and
joyous together as young mocking-birds. Enter a white man.
He likes Palm Springs because it gives him health and drives the
pale and wan look from his cheek. The Indians are good to
him and bid him welcome to all the valley and the desert can
give of health and new life. As he improves he "makes love"
to the younger of the Indian sisters. By and by they are mar-
ried— according to Indian custom — and in time three bright,
beautiful rnv\s are born to them.
Then, almost suddenly, a change comes. Many other white
men, and some women, come to Palm Springs. They have
learned of its virtues and there is a "boom." What then does
this white man do, who has received health, life, and love on the
desert ^ The craven wretch is ashamed to be seen bv his own
people with an Indian wife and children, and, like an infamous
scoundrel, he deserts them in the dead of the night. At first
the deserted wife could not believe it, but when the fact pene-
trated its way into her mind, it at the same time broke her
heart.
Think of it, good sirs and ladies of the superior race. Though
she was "only an Indian," she died of a broken heart. Nor
was that all of the tragedy of it. Prior to the time of her white
husband's' desertion she had been noted for the care and de-
voted love she bestowed upon her children. By one of those
strange perversions we cannot always explain, the misery caused
by being forsaken turned into hatred to her recreant husband
and vented itself upon his children, so that they, poor innocent
little ones, had a bitter life until their mother died. Then they
were distributed around among the relatives. The mother's
sister, Maria, took one of them. She had a motherly heart and
immediately poured out the whole of its wealth of affection upon
the deserted, motherless creature. She aroused herself to do
for it as the white women do for their children, and many a
;40 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
white visitor at Palm Springs commented upon the neatness and
cleanhness of the Indian child, whose prior history they little
imagined. When she became of school age Maria was urged
to send her to an Indian school, which was done, but unfor-
tunately the child came under a malign influence there. She
was soon weaned away from Maria, and though the loving-hearted
woman craved her presence, the girl was taught that it was far
better for her never to go back to the reservation. Several years
elapsed. The school
rr^
<S5;
was closed and the
Indian children
moved to the
Sherman
School at
Riverside.
Fig tree at Palm Springs
Here, though the influence was of a decidedly diff"erent character,
the estrangement of the girl from her aunt was completed.
In the meantime Maria longed to see her beloved niece (whom
she had long regarded as her very own) with such a fervent long-
ing that she became sick and soon developed a mild form of
melancholia. Her brother sent a message to the school asking
that the girl be sent home for a while, but no attention was paid
to it. Then Dr. Murray was asked to intercede, and with the
large heart of a true humanitarian, he wrote and begged that
the child come home to save her aunt from complete dementia.
He might have told, had he been aware of the facts, that poor
The Tragedies of the Desert .".41
Maria was in the hahit of getting out the baby clothes, the
shoes and stockings of the child to whom she had given a
mother's love, and wailing over them, as the Indians do over
their dead.
Weeks passed and Maria rapidly became a hopeless lunatic,
crazed through unsatisfied affection and the absence of her
child. Dr. Murray wrote again, and this time his plea was so
urgent that the girl was sent. She brought her mandolin with
her, upon which she had become an expert player. She had
grown to be a "fine young lady," but there must have been
much of her heartless father in her, for she was very unhappy
with her demented aunt and begged to go back to school.
And now, when her brother is away, Maria still gets out the
baby clothes of the child she loves and in a voice that is piteous
in its sadness and despair she wails in her unquenchable grief.
Then she forgets her sorrow, and in a wildly boisterous manner
that alarms and arouses the whole village she sings the happy
songs she and the child used to sing in the days when they were
happy together.
And I, who have heard both the wailing and the singing, am
unable to tell you which is the more sad. They both tell of a
desert tragedy.
What numberless tragedies men's culpability has caused, and
equally numberless those resulting from men's evil passions!
The desert has seen its share of both of these. One of the ear-
liest is that recorded by J. R. Bartlett of the Boundary Com-
mission. As Colonel Craig, of his escort, was crossing the desert
from Alamo Mocho to Yuma he came up with two deserters
from Fort Yuma. He endeavored to persuade them to return,
but they vowed they would never go and would shoot any one
who attempted to arrest them. With a desire to conciliate them,
Colonel Craig threw aside his weapons and was stepping up to
them with the kindly offer that he would try to have them at-
tached to his command, when his mule, being left alone, marched
off some fifteen or twenty yards. The colonel directed Sergeant
Ouin (who with Sergeant Bale were his only companions) to
stop him, and as he did so thus separated himself from the
officer. In a moment Quin heard the report of muskets, and, turn-
342
The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
ing, saw the deserters, who had just fired, and the colonel stag-
gering and about to fall. Bale discharged his revolver at the
deserters, but his mule prancing about, his aim was ineffective
and Quin saw him also fall. He at once put spurs into his
horse and made his way to Bartlett's camp as fast as possible.
But that was thirty miles away.
And in the meantime over the prostrate body the inexorable
sun shone on with unrestrained fury, the winds blew as if they
knew not the silent figure; the curious lizards darted to and fro
and the rattlesnake sounded his warning, not knowing that all
earthly warnings were in vain. The night came and the pitiless
stars and the unconscious, baby faced moon gazed down without
" ' • A turn
in Pahn Canyon
a sign of sorrow, and people far, far away gazed into the blue
distances of the desert, never dreaming what lay out yonder so
quiet and so still.
It was ten o'clock the following night before the detail found
the body, and soon after the wounded sergeant, who had been
allowed to go by the murderers. On their return to camp a deep
grave was dug and the body of Colonel Craig was consigned to it.
There was neither mound, rock, nor tree to mark the spot; a
dreary solitude reigned : so to identify the grave a wooden cross
was erected at its head on which was inscribed:
"Lieut.-Col. L. S. Craig, U.S.A.
Died June 6, 1852."
The murderers were afterwards caught by the shrewdness of an
Indian chief, who, with his people, had been sent to hunt for them.
The Tragedies of the Desert
343
Professing friendship for the men the crafty Indian proposed to
buy their muskets, which the deserters gladly sold. But as they
had a revolver and it was necessary to disarm them of this, the
chief expressed curiosity and requested to be allowed to see it.
His apparent simplicity completely lulled any suspicion the
deserters may have had, and they put it into his hands, when,
immediately, he stepped back, leveled it upon the murderers,
gave his signal cry and in a moment his hidden followers sprang in
and arrested the two men. They were finally taken to San Diego,
tried, and hanged in the presence of a large number of people.
But there are other tragedies that
have no violence in them, and some
of these are exceedingly sad. These
tragedies come from ignorance. Men
come and attempt to establish them-
selves in the desert and spend all
they have in planting out things that
will not grow. The sadness of such
disappointments has often brought
death; the weary continuance of the
struggle has often prolonged the agony
of death, and but few have moved on
with courage enough to start afresh
the battle of life under newer and
less difficult (to them) conditions.
Some of the saddest desert tragedies occur when those who
could have been helped by the desert in pulmonary troubles
come too late. Why will men and women delay facing the
inevitable ? Is it cowardice or fear lest they frighten the loved
one ? Which is better, to wait until the disease has secured so
thorough hold on the body that death is almost certain, or to
startle the patient and get him to a place of helpfulness before it
is too late ? I could write several large books recounting the
stories of those who came "too late"! What sad words these
are, and often how unnecessary! And yet in many instances
one says them the moment his eyes fall upon the victims of coward-
ice, indecision, or criminal reluctance to warn the invalid. Such
a case occurs to me now, of a bright and beautiful girl, born of
In Palm Canyon
344 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
wealthy parents who could gratify her every desire. She was a
proud and studious girl and resolved to win high honors at her
school and then take a university course. Competitive examina-
tions, the determination to surpass her comrades, and the fear of
failure impelled her to work beyond her strength. She won the
examinations, surpassed her comrades, entered the university,
and — broke down, with affected lungs. Her parents buoyed her
up with the hope that she would soon be well, and instead of
taking her where the soothing and healing air of the desert would
have given her new life, they resolutely refrained from giving her
the slightest idea that she was in any danger. At last a violent
hemorrhage demanded immediate action. The family physician
sent her to Palm Springs. But it was far too late. Soon after
she arrived the overworked body gave way and the spirit took
its flight. It was decided to send the body home for burial.
On the day appointed for this, a young man with his two
sisters, both afflicted with pulmonary disease, were expected at
Palm Springs. It was deemed unwise to shock them by allowing
them to see the casket as they landed at the place where they
hoped to regain their health, so, as there was an uncertainty as to
the exact arrival of the train, a carriage was sent to meet them,
while an Indian drove a wagon, on which was placed the casket
bearing the body of the unfortunate girl, around by the moun-
tains, so that it could reach the station by another route. Cared
for by an Indian, dead, on the desert, hopes, ambitions, aspira-
tions, beauty, achievements all gone, as far as this earth was
concerned, here, indeed, was tragedy. But perhaps it mattered
not to the dead girl with whom she rode, in what kind of a
vehicle, or how she went and by what route: all drivers, vehicles,
and routes were the same to her. It was the poor girl's "last
ride."
The Canip-lircs of the Desert
345
CHAPTER XXIII
The Camp-fires of the Desert
'AMP-FIRES are always delightful, romantic, and
pleasant, but never more so than on the desert.
)W When the pure pall of semi-darkness slowly falls
and covers the clear brilliancy of the day and
'(^tir^ nothing but the dark shadows of the palms, the
rocks, the trees, the wagons are to be discerned,
^''<>^ the bright fierce flames of the camp-fire rise
^-^ with peculiar charm and fascination. The
breeze blows the flickering flames this w^ay and that, as if in rude
rhythm, and the picture is one which once seen will never be tor-
gotten. Here is a tiny handful of men — in our case there Vv^ere
iDut two or three of us — in the heart of this desert solitude where
even the silent stars sometimes seem so far away from the activities
of men that they must have lost their way, and one thinks of the
cry of the mate of Columbus:
*< Whv, now not even God would know
Should I and all my men fall dead.
These very winds forget their way.
For God from these dread seas is gone."
Yes! but is this being out in the heart of the great freedom that
constitutes its allurement ? No one is looking on, no one is
criticising, no one is requiring you to be any other than you are.
Here, at least, if you will, you may be yourself. And God is
over all. There is no sense of aloneness, no sense of solitude:
it is simply an overpowering, joyous sense of a great and glorious
physical, mental, and spiritual freedom. The only laws, the only
restrictions, the only restraints are those which God has indelibly
written upon each human heart. With me there is such a sense
of the presence of God on the desert that I always feel the farther
346 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
I go, the farther I get from the influence of men, the nearer I get
to God.
By this I would not have my readers think I am a misanthrope,
a recluse, a hermit. I have none of that blood in me. I merely
long, at times, to be free from men and women, to get away from
man-made laws and conventions to original things, to look again
at my prime bearings, and then go back into civilization and
take up my share of the white man's burdens.
It is around the camp-fire in the dusk of the evening, when
supper is over, and one feels the comforting influences ot a good
meal, that men's tongues are loosened and stories of all kinds are
told. The camp may be in the open, or under the shadows of a
great rock, or in a canyon under sheltering trees. Where it is
matters not much so long as the influences are there, — the gentle
crackling of the fire with the occasional spurt of flame; the dim
light; the careless, lounging attitudes of the men, some sitting
against their blankets, others stretched out at full length, their
chins propped up by arms and hands, another leaning against
a tree, and still another holding himself by the knees; pipes or
cigarettes lighted by the lovers of "the weed"; the mournful coo
of the dove; the munching of the horses as they diligently masti-
cate their quota of hay or grain; the gentle evening breeze, cooling
yet not cold; the occasional bray of a burro who wishes you to
know that he is not near enough to the hay, — all these and the more
subtle influences of the desert, the solitude, the mystery, the
evening stars, the entire absence of all civilization or evidences
of the existence of other men than the few here gathered, tend
to evoke those stories of imagination, of travel, of horror, ot peril,
of adventure, of experience, of fact, of fiction, that constitute
the charm and delight to almost all men who have experienced it
of the desert camp-fire.
It was at the camp-fire that I first heard the story of Pegleg
Smith, of the Breedloves, of Riley and hosts of others. It was
in the half-glow of the camp-fire that I learned fresh details of the
Mountain Meadow massacre, of the Death Valley experiences,
of the Donner Lake horrors. There many a discouraged pros-
pector has told of his miles of weary travel, his disheartening
experiences, his boundless hopes, his perils, his few trivial successes.
The Cam})-fires of the Desert 347
There, too, you learn somewhat of the difficulties and dangers of
the teamster's life, the accidents on mountain slopes, the upsetting
of wagons, the fording of dangerous streams, the sinking into
treacherous quicksands, the sufferings endured by man and beasts
when, in the almost intolerable heat of a desert summer, an
expected spring is found to be dry, or an accident has ruined the
precarious water supply.
As I read over the pages I have written about the explorers
and pathfinders of the early day I see many and varied camp-fires.
Think of the camp-fires of the weary soldiers of Kearney and
Cooke as they journeyed to the land of promise in the days
of the first American occupation of California. Cooke's soldiers
were Mormons and they whiled away some of their time in singing.
At their camp-fires they sang the songs of their new Jerusalem,
the songs of their church with a zeal that deserts could not destroy
and rivers could not quench. But now and again as they first
stole around the camp-fire before their preachers had had time
to begin their exhortations, once in a while one of the lighter
spirits would start the song with the rollicking chorus in which
they all joined:
" How hard, to starve and wear us out
Upon tfiis sandy desert route."
But by and by these sounds were hushed, the solemn hymn
rose on the evening air, and soon the voice of the earnest and
zealous Mormon preacher rang out over the sandy wastes. Those
were, indeed, camp-fires of a far different type from those of the
early Spanish colonists, though at both the worship of God in
religious ceremony formed an important part.
The bandit and stage robber have had their camp-fires on the
desert. But they must be built where the eye of no hunting
officer or sheriff could see. In the shelter of some rock or down
in a dry arroyo a tiny fire was built for the cooking of the evening
meal or to tell over the spoils. See them, these bloodthirsty and
cruel men. They tell with glee how they made their hapless
victim suffer, how they tortured him until he revealed where his
wealth was kept; how they stole upon the unsuspecting traveler
and drove the knife up to the hilt into his back and he died and
348
The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
"never knewwhat had struck him"; of the stage held up and how
the scared passengers Hfted up their hands while one of their own
number went through their pockets, gathering the spoils for the
lone highwayman.
And they drink and carouse, perhaps, and forget they are being
hunted. They found the seductive liquor on the stage and cannot
resist the temptation to "drink it down" and forget everything
but their noisy mirth. "Throw on more wood ! Never mind the
light ! We're safe enough ! Pass around the bottle 1"
And, suddenly,
-•^ . ^Mi*y the crack of guns
yMn peals out and
one after another
they fall over.
One or two
spring to their
feet and start to
1 1 ''If illili ? '"•'•^ i^iyp^ii i II ' Wfll run, but the swift
1 1 ''I'llllllll (^^^Bij^Hlllfli liiflll bullet is swifter
than they, and
ere they can es-
cape they are
brought low, one
of them falling
over into that
camp-fire, a hor-
rible sacrifice to
t purity he and his
companions have so shock-
ingly violated. And time and space would fail me to tell of
the camp-fires of the pioneers before '49 and those who came
for gold and those who finally came with their families to make
California their home. As I have sat at my own solitary camp-
fire I have seen all these scenes and many more. I have peopled
the desert with phantoms that are real. Here, in the awful still-
ness and solitude, imagination has full play. Memory and im-
agination have wedded and brought forth children that are more
real than physical things. These have taken possession of my
.4
Coakiiilla
basket-
maker
The Camp-fires of the Desert 349
camp-fire. The silent desert is the unreal thing, for how can
it be desert, deserted, silent, still, with these living presences,
acting, moving, loving, hating, before me?
One of the strangest camp-fire stories I ever heard was that
told by the "Ananias of the Desert," whose bright invention has
cheered many a weary hour. It was told with so earnest an air
of truth that I believe the teller himself believed it. I give it as
it was told.
"When travelers go to the Torres Indian reservation they
will find an old Indian who sits in calm equanimity and listens
to their ofttimes foolish vaporings. For it cannot be denied that
some most silly things are said by white people about Indians
in the presence of the latter. It is then rather astonishing to
hear from this rather sardonic-looking old Indian the question
expressed in perfect English or French: 'Were you ever in Nor-
mandy, madam ? Are you not aware that we but do here what
the peasants do there?' Such a question and remark, from
such a source, is generally a staggerer, but few people are able
to learn anything of the Indian who thus addressed them. But
here is the story as it came to me. This man's name is Jose.
When a young man he is said to have gone to a fiesta in Los
Angeles. There he tasted of the red wine and it seemed very
good and sweet to him. When again pressed to drink it was
of the white wine, and that was equally good and sweet. 'But,'
said he, in telling the story, 'my mind was not my own after that.
Somehow I found myself in a strange country where I saw things
I had never seen before. I was where the desert was of water,
not of sand, and great vessels were moving noiselessly to and
fro over its surface.'
"It is evident he had either wandered or been taken to the port
of San Pedro, most probably the latter, for the next thing he
remembers is that he was on board a vessel, far out at sea, bound
for the Orient. While he thought he was enjoying himself he
had been shanghaied. For several years he was kept on board
the ship, and there learned to speak good English, — not from
the sailors, but from one of the officers who took an interest in
him. The captain, however, watched him so closely when they
were in port that no opportunity was given him to escape, until
350 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
after several years they happened to be in a French port, and
there the long-looked-for chance arose. Jose seized it, and a
few hours' wandering found him a free man again in the heart
of pastoral Normandy. He met with friends, engaged with a
farmer to help him, and before long was speaking words of love
in true Normandy French to a maiden upon whom his eyes had
longingly fallen. She was not averse to his dark skin, and never
knew or dreamed, perhaps, of his Indian birth, and he never told,
so that when, a little later, he proposed marriage, the parents of
the girl made no objection and the wedding took place with all
due solemnity.
"Who says ah Indian has no power of adaptability ? Here was
one who not only learned the language, but adopted the customs,
and, at least as far as exterior goes, the religion of the people of
his new land so that he virtually became one of them.
"See him now, for a dozen years or more, settled' down as a
farmer, with a small family growing up around him. For a while
everything went well. The years rolled on and no one supposed
that he was not contented and happy. Perhaps he never even
dreamed of it himself. But by and by that ferment in the blood
we cannot explain or understand, that 'call of Nature' made
its subtle and gentle, though powerfully overwhelming voice
heard, and Jose, all at once, felt he was 'not at home.' His home
was elsewhere, — near the waters of the Pacific. He had for-
gotten many things, and his home tongue had almost entirely
slipped from his memory, yet he knew enough to think he could
find his way back to his birthplace if he once cut loose.
"No one can ever tell from the old man's way of telling the
story whether he felt the severing of the new bonds or not. He
says he left when everything was happy and prosperous and
found his way into a port in Belgium. Here he shipped on board
a German vessel which was carrying a load of cement to California.
In due time the ship reached San Diego, and Jose lost no time.
Not being watched, he escaped to the hills, and there fortunately
came in contact with some old squaws whose features reminded
him of those he had left at home so long ago. He asked of them
how far away was Tauquitch, and they told him 'two days. ' He
secured a horse and in forty-eight hours the snowy forehead of
Tlio C';m)j)-firo.s of the Desert
351
San Jacinto Mountain loomed before him. A few hours later
and the mesquite huts of Torres were reached. Without a word
he shed the life of recent years as a snake sheds its discarded
skin, reentered upon the life of his people, and now, save when
his sardonic humor asserts itself, one would never dream that the
old Indian sitting so quietly in the shadow of his kish, smoking
his ciirarette, was a world-wide traveler, the hero of a romance in
France, and even now, perhaps, longed for and mourned by a
sad-hearted mother of children in the fruit orchards of far-away
sunny Normandy."
Two others of Mr. Tingman's camp-fire stories must find place
here. "A gentleman from Ohio came here and
filed on a desert-claim. He brought with ,,„„„.„i!pto„,.
him a car-load of personal effects, in ^^^^WIM
^^^0' ' '■mm
A CoaJiuilla
basket
the which were several sacks
of fine pop-corn and about
two hundred blooded
chicken s. A barn
was built and a corral
for the chickens, and
the pop-corn was
put in the former
and the chickens in
the latter. One morn-
ing when the proprie-
tor went out he found a number of his valuable chickens with their
heads off. He hunted around but could find no sign of the heads
of his unfortunate chickens. In great distress he called in his
neighbor, who at once began to look around for the cause of the
disaster. Stepping into the barn he saw some of the pop-corn
loose in a box. 'What's this?' he asked. 'It's corn,' replied
the owner, 'pop-corn: I brought it from the East.' 'Popcorn ?'
exclaimed the neighbor. 'That explains it all! Your chickens
got to that pop-corn and then went out into this desert sun and
it was so hot that the corn popped and popped their heads ofl^.' "
When the laujihter at this had subsided, Tingman told another
of an old lady who had promised to bake a cake for a church
sociable. Said he: "The old dame came into my store and asked
352 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
for some unbleached muslin. I measured it off and gave it to
her, when, to my amazement, she began to cut it up into tiny
Httle bits. 'What's that for?' I asked. 'Why are you ruining
that fine mushn?' 'Oh!' said the old lady, with a sweet and
simple smile, 'I'm making little bags so that I can fill them
with cracked ice to tie around my hens' necks!' 'Cracked ice?
To tie around your hens' necks?' I cried in perfect astonish-
ment and bewilderment, 'what's that for?'
'"Oh, don't you know,' she replied with a smile that now was
'child-like and bland,' 'that that's the only way to get fresh
eggs. If I don't put the ice on, the only eggs I get are hard
boiled ones!'"
This led one of the others to tell a story on Tingman, which
the latter boisterously declared was "honest truth." Tingman
had a burro which was very fond of home, so much so that when
he was once sold it was not many days before he came back.
The purchaser on his return demanded repayment of the amount
he had expended on the burro, but Tingman compromised on
half. It happened to be a time of great activity among pros-
pectors and they piled into Indio at a lively rate trying to buy
burros. Tingman hit upon a great scheme. He sold the burro
with the distinct understanding, signed as an agreement, that if
the burro came home he was to retam it. Sixty times — "by
actual count" — the burro was sold and — came back. At last
a German bought it who was familiar with the burro's "return-
ing home" habit. He vowed the burro should never return on
him and for three days and nights he watched, and when he
found the crafty animal making a break for home, he deliberately
shot and killed it.
Tingman now contemplates erecting a monument to the
memory of the burro.
\ i^cr.lM,
The Reclamation of the Desert
353
CHAPTER XXIV
The Reclamation of the Desert, in the Imperial
AND CoACHELLA VaLLEYS
|ACH visitor to the desert has his own ideas as
to the possibility or probability of its future
reclarr.ation. That all the desert will ever be
^^ VP^^^^ " reclaimed " I do not believe. There are other
5?fl 4\^^^^l utilities in life than those based upon commercial
returns. It would be a tremendous pity to re-
claim all the desert. We need it for other and
better things than growing melons and corn. It
is required for the expansion of soul, the en-
largement of vision of perhaps only a few
men, but those few will help influence and
benefit the world. Elijah's retirement to the
desert gave him the power that led to the eman-
cipation of his people from a great ecclesias-
tical tyranny. Mahomet's desert experiences
gave the world a new religion. Christ's forty
days and nights in the wilderness renewed his
spiritual power. The close proximity of the
desert to the growing cities of Southern Cali-
fornia is one of the greatest of blessings.
Though, as yet, unappreciated and largely unknown, it is wait-
ing to pour out ot its largeness into the hearts of the few men
and women who will ultimately come to learn from it the lessons
that will better fit them to lead the people of Southern California
to higher and nobler things.
Yet it is good that man seeks to reclaim the desert. All his
efforts will benefit him, no matter what their influence may be
on the desert itself. The first scientific presentation of the
subject in the United States was made by Major J. W. Powell,
354 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
the hero of the Colorado canyons explorations, who in 1878
published his "Lands of the Arid Region." With a foresight
that was far ahead of his time this wise and good man coun-
seled the government's control of the arid lands, absorption of
suitable reservoir sites and erection thereon of adequate reser-
voirs, conservation of water supply, whether the constant flow
of rivers, creeks, or springs, or the torrential downpours of in-
termittent seasons.
In the Colorado Desert region the first intelligent efforts to
this end were made forty years ago by Dr. O. M. Wozencraft
of San Bernardino. He was a pioneer who, in crossing the
desert, saw its great possibilities, provided it could be irrigated.
He was a man of marked personality, far-seeing vision, and
lived a generation before his time. He sought to obtain from
Congress a grant of land for the carrying out of his plans, which
included practically what is now the project, in the main, of the
California Development Company. His scheme was looked upon
by most of the members of Congress as visionary, and though
the experts warmly advocated his plans, the "wise politicians"
regarded It more in the light of a joke than as a serious project
to be entertained with due consideration and dignity. The
result was, the doctor frittered away his fortune in his endeavors
and all in vain. Even so able a man as J. Ross Browne had
his sarcastic fling at the scheme when he said: "Still I can see
no great obstacle to success except the porous nature of the sand.
By removing the sand from the desert, success would be insured
at once." I invoke his shade to witness what has been done,
without removing the sand, and I doubt not he is now hanging
his head in shame, provided, of course, that shades can hang
their heads in shame.
Yet the efforts of Dr. Wozencraft were not in vain. They
were a stimulus and incentive to others, and finally his vision-
ary scheme was taken hold of and is now on the w^ay to one of
the most marvelous of successes.
Twenty years or so ago Dr. Wozencraft's plans were resusci-
tated by John C. Beatty, who organized the Colorado River
Irrigation Company. He engaged as his engineer to make
reconnaissances and surveys C. R. Rockwood, then in the em-
The Reclamation of the Desert 355
ploy of the United States Reclamation Service. Mr. Bcatty was
a man of large foresight, but not being able to properly finance
his plans they fell through, his company became involved in liti-
gation, was ruined, and the entire project abandoned. Mr.
Rockwood's surveys were sold under the auctioneer's hammer
and bought in by Dr. Hefferman of Los Angeles. Mr. Rock-
wood, having by his surveys become thoroughly interested in
the scheme, now determined to interest capital to promote it.
In 1896 the California Development Company was organized
for the purpose of reclaiming what was then called for the first
time "The Imperial Valley." This valley reaches from the
Mexican line on the south to where the Alamo and New Rivers
come near together before emptying into the Salton Sea on the
north, and these two rivers practically form the eastern and
western boundaries. Approximately 500,000 acres of land are
Headquarters of California Development Company, Calexico
included in this region. The Development Company, however,
did not own or control any of this land, nor did it seek to do so.
It was purely and simply a water corporation, organized for the
purpose of bringing water from the Colorado River to the land
of the valley, which, being government land, was open to entry
and settlement as all other such lands were.
As it was found that the main canals of the company would
have to flow for many miles on Mexican soil, a concession was
secured from the Mexican government to a branch of the De-
velopment Company, generally referred to as the "Mexican
Compan)'." The terms of this concession required that a head-
gate for the taking of water from the Colorado River should be
established and maintained in operation on the Mexican side of
the line, as well as the one contemplated on the California side.
The company had undertaken a gigantic task. Fortunately,
as I have shown elsewhere, Nature in prehistoric times had pre-
356 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
pared much of the way in raising the Colorado River, by the
upUfi of its own sediment, high above the lands that were to be
irrigated, and then, as if in anticipation of this very scheme,
had later on cut a river channel in the required direction, which
The Reclamation of the Desert 357
for some forty or fifty miles could be used as a canal for the
conveyance of water to the Imperial lands.
The upper part of this river and the New River could also
be utilized for conveying the waste water, seepage, or overflow
into the dry bed of the Salton Basin, it not being thought at that
time that there would be a larger flow than the rapid evapora-
tion of the desert could care for. All these facts were discovered
by Mr. Rockwood in his surveys.
The question then arose before the company: How can we
arrange matters so that the settlers in the valley can secure
water at once for the development of their land, and at the same
time arrange, in time, to own themselves the various canals,
head-gates, etc., that compose the irrigation systems on their
own lands .''
Here is the company's explanation of its method:
"In order to place the ownership of the distributing systems of
canals and ditches in the hands of the people who were to use the
water, so that they could manage its distribution in their own ways,
the system of mutual water companies that has grown up in so
satisfactory a manner under the liberal laws of the state of Cali-
fornia was adopted.
"A mutual water company is a corporation organized for the
purpose of furnishing water to its stockholders only at cost.
" It was not deemed feasible to place 500,000 acres of land under
one mutual water company; hence several of these mutual water
companies have been formed, each one to supply water to a par-
ticular locality, and these localities or districts have been outlined
largely by the natural topographical features of the country.
"Eight of these corporations were formed, but only seven of
them have been thus far utilized. Each corporation is known
by the name of Imperial Water Company and then numbered,
as Imperial Water Company No. i, Imperial Water Company
No. 8, etc. Numbers 1,2, 4, 5, 6, 7, and 8 are live corporations,
while No. 3 has been merged into No. I.
'Each one of these mutual water companies makes a contract
with the California Development Company and the Mexican
Corporation, under which these corporations are to deliver a
supply of water perpetually to the mutual water company at the
358 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
fixed price of fifty cents per acre-foot — fifty cents for enough
water to cover an acre of land one foot in depth — which is equal
to about two cents an inch for a twenty-four hour flow of water —
the cheapest water on the Pacific Coast.
"The California Development Company also provides for the
construction of the distributing system of canals and ditches for
the mutual water company, taking the stock of the mutual water
company in payment of such work. This stock is sold to the
settlers at the rate of one share of stock for each acre of land to
be irrigated. The mutual water company is thus provided with
a water supply and a system of canals and ditches free of indebted-
ness. There is one exception to this rule. Imperial Water
Company No. 8 paid for its system of canals and ditches with
twenty-year six per cent bonds, and the landowners get their
stock for nothing by investing in the bonds of the corporation to
the extent of only one dollar per acre, as a matter of showing
good faith in taking water stock for which they pay nothing.
"So far as water rights and cost of water are concerned, these
mutual water companies are all on the same basis. Imperial
Water Company No. l was incorporated to irrigate 100,000
acres of land located between New River on the west and the
Alamo River on the east, and extending from the International
Boundary Line on the south to a short distance north of the town
of Imperial on the north. Imperial Water Company No. 4 was
formed to irrigate 17,500 acres of land between the two rivers,
adjoining No. i district on the north. Imperial Water Company
No. 5 was incorporated to irrigate 100,000 acres on the east side
of the Alamo River, but later it was thought best to confine the
work of this company to about 50,000 acres, as it is thought
that, as a rule, that area is enough to be placed under one water
company. Imperial Water Company No. 6 was formed to
irrigate 25,000 acres of land on the west side of New River, near
Signal Mountain on the International Boundary Line. Imperial
Water Company No. 7 was formed to irrigate 20,000 acres of
land next to the International Boundary Line, on the east side of
the Alamo River, and south of the Eastside diversion dam.
Imperial Water Company No. 8 was formed to irrigate 40,000
acres of land on the west side of New River, in a northwesterly
0 ^.
■rSSi'---,- I • i ', '1/ N
7^' r »
it ■}|A\i'
^' J--...' J'U \ \ \ \ I \
So
S
339
360
The AVonders of the Colorado Desert
Typical ranch-house in Imperial Valley
direction from the town of Imperial, and directly west from the
town of Brawley, which is located on the Imperial branch of the
Southern Pacific Railroad.
"Under the contract for a water supply, these mutual water
companies are entitled to receive each year four acre-teet of water
for each share of
outstanding stock,
and are required to
pay for at least one
acre-foot of water
each year for each
outstanding share of
stock, whether the
water is used or not.
This clause was inserted in the contract for the purpose of
discouraging speculation in the water stock and land, for, if
the owner is required to pay fifty cents an acre each year, it
will be a very strong inducement for him to improve his land,
use more water, and thus build up the country, and not only
make his own land more valuable, but to also increase the value
of the land belonging to his neighbors.
"The stock of these various mutual water companies — except
Imperial Water Company
No. 8 — is held at the
same price, which in
August I, 1903, was $10
a share, on the following
easy terms of payment:
Cash, ^5.00 a share at the
time of purchase and
j^3.oo per share on the first
day 01 July of each year Flume carrying the canal over New River
until the balance is paid,
with 6 per cent interest on deferred payments. A discount of 10
per cent is allowed for all cash. This price and these terms
are subject to change without notice.
"Each landowner gets what water he needs at the cost price to
the company, plus a small sum to pay cost of distribution and
The Reclamation of tlio Desert 36 1
administration of the affairs of the mutual water company.
This last item ought not to exceed 25 cents per acre per year.
"It is believed that alfalfa, which requires more water than any
other crop, will not need more than three acre-feet of water to
each acre of land each season. This will cost the ranch owner
about $1.75 per acre — ^1.50 per acre being the fixed price, and
25 cents per acre being the cost of management and distribution.
"For an abundant supply of water at all times this is considered
to be the cheapest water to-day in the United States, and it is
not believed that works constructed by the government could
furnish water at a less cost."
In 1 899, William E. Smythe, in his "Conquest of Arid America, "
thus wrote of the reclaiming of the Colorado Desert: "It is
popularly regarded as an empire of hopeless sterilty, the silence
of which will never be broken by the voices of men. As the
transcontinental traveler views it from his flying train it presents
an aspect indeed forbidding. Neither animal life nor human
habitation breaks its level monotony. It stretches from mountain
range to mountain range, a brown waste of dry and barren soil.
And yet it only awaits the touch of water and of labor to awaken
it into opulent life. Much time will be required to overcome the
wide and ingrained public prejudice against the Colorado Desert,
but it will finally be reclaimed and sustain tats of thousands of
prosperous people. It is more like Syria than any other part of
the United States, and the daring imagination may readily con-
ceive that here a new Damascus will arise more beautiful than
the old."
As early as 1853, Professor Blake wrote that "there can be no
question of the fertility of this region, and of the clay soil of the
desert, at any point where water can be obtained in sufficient
quantity for irrigation."
See then the water being provided. Early in 1900 not a stroke
of work had been done by the California Development Company
owing to the lack of finances. Even then it began work with
assurance of but a small portion that would be required to com-
plete the system. It was March, 1902, before water was turned
into the main canal for irrigation, and yet in September, 1904,
the company had constructed and were operating over 700 miles
362 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
of canals and ditches and had brought into the Imperial Valley
about 8,000 settlers, and had in crop nearly 75,000 acres.
The fertility of the soil was at first somewhat questioned by
government "experts" sent out to make tests. The department
made a mistake in sending young and inexperienced men to do
this work, for in less than a year their "official" prognostications
were discredited by the actual growths of crops in places where
they had practically prophesied failure.
I now speak of that which I have personally seen. Alfalfa
grows six to eight crops a year, yielding from one to two tons of
cured hay per acre at each cutting. Wheat and barley at first did
An imported Galloway bull on the desert
not do very well. The farmers did not fully understand the new
conditions. The second year, however, showed such capacities
that I know of one farmer who, alone, in the third year and ever
since, has planted not less than 2,000 acres of barley. Milo
maize, sorghum, Kaffir corn, and millet are fine forage crops,
and it is no uncommon thing to plant barley in the winter and,
after harvesting, put in these as a summer crop.
Score of tons of cantaloupes, melons, sweet potatoes, and onions
were grown this year, 1906, and they equal in richness and flavor
those of any location on the continent. Sweet potatoes especially
do well, on account of the possibility of allowing them to remain
In the ground until winter, when crops elsewhere are scarce.
The Reclamation of the Dosort
3G3
Small fruits, such as seedless sultanas, grapes, dewberries,
blackberries, etc., ripen much earlier here than even in the
favored climate of the coast regions of Southern California and
find a ready market at good prices.
Experiments are being made with the date, as at Mecca, and
there is little doubt but that the results will prove successful.
Sugar-beets, rice, and early vegetables also do well. Indeed the
scope for the farmer and horticulturalist is large, and as the
conditions improve with the continued planting of trees it will
not be many years, in my judgment, before the population of
this and similar desert regions will be as dense as it now is in many
of the older eastern regions.
With alfalfa, barle}', wheat, and other forage it can well be
seen that the Imperial country is excellent for stock and cattle
Cattle in the Imperial Valley
raising. Hogs do as well as cattle, and there is in Los Angeles a
market for ten times as much live stock as is now being raised.
In this short period of time the Southern Pacific has built
upwards of sixty miles of railway into the valley, and the Holtville
Interurban runs an electric line from Holtville to Imperial, a
distance of twelve miles.
The freight reports of the Southern Pacific for 1905, the third
year after work began in the valley, as shown on the following
page, is the best Indication of its growth.
The towns of Imperial, Brawley, Holtville, Heber, Calexico,
Mexicali, Silsbee, and El Centro have been established, with
hotels, banks, newspapers, good stores, schoolhouses, telephones,
ice plants, piped-water s\'stems, and electric lights.
Since the flooding of the Salton Basin, as elsewhere related,
there has been a decided arresting of the course of development.
364
The AYonders of the Colorado Desert
This was natural. In the chapter on the Salton Sea I record
the efforts that have been made and are now, (October, 1906,)
being made to arrest the flow. When that is accompHshed
the growth of the valley will flow on uninjured and a great empire
will be built up on what was once the Colorado Desert.
Statement of Tonnage Moving off The Imperial Branch
OF the Southern Pacific Railway to Imperial Junc-
tion and Imperial during Year 1905.
From
Total
Description of
Commodities.
Ber-
KICE.
B raw-
ley.
Key-
stone
Impe-
rial.
El
Cen-
TRO.
Heber
Calex-
ICO.
Tons
Shipped
OP
each
Tons.
Tons.
Tons.
Tons.
Tons. 1 Tons.
Tons.
Com-
modity.
Wheat
178
492
53
191
32
9
3228
122
774
100
1730
24
835
20
100
143
9
1843
125
24
503
35
20
20
603
161
24
369
Corn
524
Oats
9
Barley
Other Grain
95
1918
24
7783
24
Pf*f*H
157
Hay
263
36
132
10
1181
Green Fruit . . .
Vegetables
'
20
36
Melons
132
Horses
120
Cattle
Sheep
24
• •
2357
24
Hogs
Machinery ....
24
116
IS
30
10
15
24
1160
38
Ag'l Implements .
Emigrant Mov's .
Ice
30
110
15
Outfits
48
Total Tons Ship-
ments from each
place
143
3256
63
7165
152
1992
1366
Of no lesser importance, though smaller in extent, are the
irrigation enterprises of the Coachella Valley at the northwestern
The Reclamation of the Desert 3G.5
end of the Colorado Desert. Here, however, the water is suppHed
by artesian wells, the existence of which is explained in the
chapter on "Water on the Desert." The towns of Indio, Co-
achella. Thermal, and Mecca are the business centers of these
rich and fertile desert-lands. There are in all about two hundred
thirty-four square miles in this valley which are irrigable from
the present supply of artesian and surface wells. The valley
extends from a little above Indio to the badly alkaline lands of
the Salton Sink, which forms the southeastern boundary, the
mountains on the northeast and southwest naturally limiting the
soil areas in their direction.
Of the climate in both the Imperial and Coachella Valleys I
have not written specifically, but it can well be inferred from the
general presentation of the subject found throughout these pages.
On the
main
cana-,
Imperial,
wagon road
Semi-tropic and arid, it is characterized by cloudless skies, low
relative humidity, high temperature in summer, and slight frosts
in winter. The summers are long and very hot, but owing to
the dryness ot the atmosphere the high temperature is not nearly
so oppressive as temperatures of twenty or twenty-five degrees
lower in the humid part of the country.
Most of the land of the valley is level, with a general slope
from six to twenty feet to the mile, so that it is well suited to
irrigation, though in the western part, in the vicinity of Indio,
there are many sand-dunes, to level which would exceed the
value of the land. Along the base of the mountains the soil is
sandy and gravelly, and it is cut, here and there, by small arroyos
which extend from the canyons of the mountains and carry water
during flood time. At the mouth of each of these arroyos is a
366 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
cone delta, and these give to the surface an irregularity which
will add difficulties to the engineering features of its irrigation.
The flood waters, too, require to be provided for, so that crops
growing during the period when floods may occur be not destroyed.
The surface soil of the whole valley is practically composed of
wash from the mountains, though undoubtedly there is some of
the sedimentary deposit of the old lake. It is divided into five
separate types, viz., Fresno sand and dune sand, Fresno fine
sandy loam, Fresno sandy loam and Imperial clay. The two
first named are alike in character, but the first lies in comparatively
flat areas, while the dune sand, as its name implies, is largely in
low, broad, crescent-shaped dunes from two to twelve feet in
height. The fine, uniform particles of finely pulverized mineral
matter that go to make up the Fresno fine sandy loam render it
the most valued and valuable land of the valley.
At present the whole of the irrigation of the Coachella Valley is
from wells, mainly artesian, some of which flow and others need
to be pumped.
The amount of water a well will flow varies greatly with its
location. Near Mecca and as far up as Coachella the flow from
a three-inch well is generally enough to irrigate forty acres of land.
Some wells flow much more water than others, and some crops
require more water than others.
There is a sensible diminution of the flow from artesian wells
in the valley, as more wells have been bored. This is especially
noticeable in the vicinity of Indio. Where three years ago wells
flowed several inches over the casing they now have to be pumped.
The supply will surely be further diminished as more wells are
put in on the lower levels, and for much of the country now
irrigated from flowing wells pumping will be necessary. This
has been the history of all artesian districts; the wells at higher
levels always cease to flow and have to be pumped as their sup-
ply is lessened by wells being bored at lower levels.
It has recently been noted near Coachella that not one of the
wells sunk to a depth of 600 feet will flow when all the pumps are
running, but those down 1,000 feet will flow all the time. The
price of a good pumping plant ranges from ;^ 1,000 to ^2,000,
which includes the sinking of the well, pipe, etc.
The lleclaiiKition of the Desert 307
Bare land is held at prices ranging from sixty dollars to one
hundred and twenty dollars an acre, one hundred dollars per
acre being a fair average.
The chief crop of the Coachella Valley is cantaloupes. From
an experienced horticulturalist, speaking through the Rural Cali-
forniaii early in July, 1906, we learn that "between 700 and 800
acres will be planted to cantaloupes next season, and about two
hundred fifty acres to melons. The approximate yield is two
hundred crates of cantaloupes to the acre, and the average price
to the grower last year was one dollar twenty-nine cents a crate.
Melons will yield about eight tons to the acre, returning to the
grower an average of twenty dollars a ton throughout the season.
Two and a half acres of cucumbers netted $1,100; tomatoes during
the month of June sold for ten cents a pound; and string beans,
of which there are large quantities raised, brought from six to
seven cents a pound."
Besides the products above referred to large quantities of
Thompson's seedless grapes find a ready market at good prices.
The Malaga grape, too, produces abundantly in Coachella, and
the prospects are that ten car-loads or over of both kinds will be
shipped next season. About 500 acres will be planted to grapes
this year, but even if 5,000 acres were planted there would be no
danger of over-production. Grapes ripen in that section fully
six weeks earlier than they do in other portions of California,
hence competition is reduced to a minimi/m.
It has been found, however, that where land is used contin-
uously for melons and cantaloupes the value of the crops decreases
each year. Careful and scientific farmers, therefore, not only
diversify their crops but have learned, or are learning, the practical
utility of planting the leguminous crops which have the power
of producing nitrogen from the atmosphere. These crops are
sometimes "turned under," without harvesting, in order that
all the nutriment may go to enrich the soil. The result is a large
increase in the value of the land.
As growth is practically continuous owing to the perpetual
summer climate and the use of irrigation, a little care and fore-
thought will produce crops throughout the year, and due rotation
of crops will preserve the ricjiness of the .soil.
368 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
This year (1906), however, the cantaloupe crop of the Coachella
Valley suffered largely from the aphis, a small insect that injures
the growing vine. But methods are being tested which prove that
the aphis can be killed so that it is pretty well assured the evil of
the pest can be overcome. This presence of the aphis is the first
appearance, I believe, of an insect pest upon the fruit or vegetables
of the desert. As a general rule it may be stated that the desert
is free from these pests. The black scale on the orange, the red
scale on the lemon, the red spider on the grape, are unknown,
and to one like myself, used to seeing these pests and having to
Irrigation
in Imperial Valley
S
wage constant war with them in the coast regions of Southern
California, the freedom from them on the desert has always been
a source of delight.
The cantaloupe crop of the Coachella Valley is mainly handled
by a "Producers' Association." This association supplies the
seed, and gives to its members expert instruction as to the methods
of farming which produce the best results. When the crop ripens
the members deliver their produce to one or other of the four
shipping points of the association, where it is duly packed, and
shipped in refrigeration cars, iced from the association's own
The Reclamation of the Desert 369
plant. The produce is thus pooled and the grower receives his
return from the net profit of the pool. Crops are shipped to
Chicago, New York, Boston, Philadelphia, Pittsburg, Omaha,
Kansas City, Denver, San Francisco, Portland, Ore., Butte,
Seattle, Spokane, and Salt Lake City.
The table on page 371 cannot fail to be both interesting and
instructive.
From this table it will be seen that the net proceeds to the
grower for his cantaloupes ranged from eighty-eight cents, when
the largest shipments were made, to $3.75, which was the first
and smallest, when, of course, prices obtained were high.
I think, therefore, it is apparent that the fertility of the soil,
the almost absolute control of crops by irrigation, the close prox-
imity to a great system of railway that insures speedy and econom-
ical distribution of crops and reception of supplies, and above
all, the fact that crops ripen weeks earlier than elsewhere through-
out the country, and that the rapid growth of the cities of Southern
California provides a market for all that can be grown, at good
prices, are clear indications that the fertile valleys of the Colorado
Desert have an assured future of great prosperity before them.
And when to these is added the anticipation of larger markets
that will necessarily open when the Panama Canal is completed,
by the greater influx of shipping, and the constant and marvelously
rapid development of all that goes to increase population in
Southern California, it can well be seen that the prospects of the
desert farmer are bound to be enhanced in value. To me the
development of these fertile areas, from once apparently valueless
lands, is one of the most interesting phases of desert life, and I
shall continue to watch it with keen interest.
Before concluding this chapter a few words must be said upon
the subject of irrigation. This is not a mere matter of letting
water run haphazard on the ground. In these desert regions,
where water is scarce and evaporation rapid, great care and wis-
dom must be exercised in irrigation. If water is allowed to run
hurriedly over an area, and then cultivation is either entirely neg-
lected or insufficiently performed, more harm than good is liable
to result to the trees it was intended to benefit. For, by the hur-
rying of the water, deep absorption is prevented and only the
370 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
surface roots are nourished, and, by the careless cultivation,
immediate evaporation not only of the surface takes place, but
by capillary attraction the little v^-ater that has gone below the
soil is drawn back to the surface and evaporates. An additional
evil also occurs, in that shallow wetting of the soil leads to the
development of tree and plant roots near the surface where they
come into more immediate contact with the destructive alkali
salts.
One of the difficulties that farmers familiar with Eastern
methods meet with when irrigating these desert soils is the "coming
up" or "rising" of alkali. Alkali, as is generally known, is the
term applied to potash, soda, or lithia when found in soils in
large and clearly discernible quantities. Here is the average
composition of alkalies from the Colorado Desert:
Calcium sulphate (Ca SO4) Q.91 %
Magnesium sulphate (Mg SO4) .... 9.02%
Sodium sulphate (Naa SOJ -33%
Potassium chloride (KCl) 30.02%
Sodium bicarbonate (Na HC O3) .... 9-59%
Sodium nitrate (Na N03) 8.91 %
Sodium chloride (Na CI) 32.22%
All the soils of the lower levels of the desert contain alkali, some
more, some less. While some plants and trees can resist a
large quantity of alkali in the soils, others are most sensitive.
Experience has demonstrated that the best way to treat heavily
alkaline soils is to flood the aflFected area so that the salts are
backed down into the lower soil, and then deeply and thoroughly
cultivate the ground to prevent surface evaporation and the
consequent return of the alkali.
Subsoil irrigation is sometimes practised where the supply of
water is small. This method possesses the merit of compelling
the water to penetrate quickly and deeply into the soil, leading
to a deeper establishm.ent of root-systems and allowing less sur-
face evaporation. But even in such cases surface flooding should
be resorted to as soon as a sufficiency of water is had for the
purpose.
The Reclamation (^1" I lie Desert
371
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S72
Ilortic'ultiiral Possil)iIitie.s of the Desert .')7.'}
CHAPTER XXV
Horticultural Possibilities of the Desert
'S early as 1857, Dr. Veatch called attention to the
fertile character of the desert soil. He contended
that only those parts of the desert were condemned
to irretrievable barrenness that were covered with
drifting sands. The other portions only needed
moisture to produce a wilderness of vegetation.
He suggested the use of New River, "but a far
more convenient supply could be furnished by
artesian wells, or, better still, by windmills
raising water from common wells."
Dr. Newbury, of the Colorado River Exploring Expedition,
also said: "If water could be supplied regularly to the New
River country it would be a perfect garden."
A large portion of the soil of the desert is the siltage of the
sediment brought down ages ago by the Colorado River. It is
hundreds ot feet deep in places, and as rich and fertile a soil as
can be found in the world. Like the sedimentary soil of the
Nile overflowed region it is of the highest possible nutritive value,
and in such proportions that the accretions of years only make
it the richer. Occasionally there is a layer of harder clay, but
generally speaking the soil is of this rich, soft, sedimentary nature.
One hnds out how soft the soil is if he accidentally treads upon
it alter irrigating. Down he goes in a moment into a mushy
quicksand that covers him over the shoe tops in a moment, and
if the seepage has been deep and he stands there the surprised
stranger will sink to his knees in a very few moments.
With such soil and careful irrigation the possibilities of the
desert seem almost endless.
I think it may safely be accepted as a constant rule, that in
proportion to the variety of trees and plants naturall}- produced
J74 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
on the desert, within equal areas, will be the variety of agricultural
products and their relative success. Yet great care must be
exercised by those not familiar with desert conditions or they
will assuredly plant trees that are doomed to failure. Many
a sad story might be written of men, too confident in their own
knowledge, or too ignorant to know what they were doing, who
lost their all in planting things unsuited to meet desert conditions.
Oranges grow wonderfully at Palm Springs, and also on the
mesa heights above Yuma. At the former place the fruit is
very juicy and heavy and contains more saccharine matter than
is found in any of the oranges grown elsewhere in the state, and,
ripening so
much earlier,
it commands
a high price.
It is a
great
Signal Mountain
and New River
delight, too, to
see the trees
and fruit free
from scale and
all para s i tes.
The leaves are
green and clean, with a richness that delights the eye and tempts
one to touch and caress them; and the fruit in its golden yellow,
free from all black discolorations, gives the lighter note of color
that completes the beauty of the picture. I suppose that only
those who have seen the oranges growing in the moister air near
the coast, where the black scale discolors leaves and fruit as
if soot had fallen upon them, and where the dust of the roads
settles upon them and deprives them of their fresh and beau-
tiful appearance, can fully appreciate the charm and delight of
these clean, fresh, healthful trees at Palm Springs.
Figs grow luxuriantly, the mission variety so far being found
to be the only commercial success. I have told of Fig Tree John's
wealth in his fig trees, and at Palm Springs, Marcos, the Indian,
received ^30 for the product of three trees last year. The mission
fig is the same variety as that known as the Brown Turkey.
It is rich, sweet, and juicy, and singularly free from seeds.
Horticultural Possibilities of the Desert 375
The pomegranate (Punica granatum) grows luxuriantly on
the desert, and can be increased inimitably by cuttings, layers,
and suckers. It ripens in the beginning of July and is rapidly
becoming a profitable market fruit.
Cantaloupes, as I have already shown, are the chief present
crop of the Coachella Valley. This fruit is so called from a
country-seat of the Pope, near Rome, where it has long been
cultivated. It was originally a desert plant, for it was taken to
Rome from the Armenian desert. In 1904 cantaloupes ripened
Y
!
'J
Dr. Murray's orange grove at Palm Springs
at Coachella May 20, and shipments were made at that time.
The first three crates sold for $50, and six crates the following
day brought $72 in Chicago. Of course these are the fancy
prices for early fruit.
Three years ago Goth Brothers, of Coachella, planted a small
patch of sweet potatoes, and so large were their profits that the
next year they materially increased their acreage. Last year
they had a great demand for sweet potato plants locally, and this
year they have commanded orders from all parts of the state.
Up to date they have filled orders for 206,000 plants, and have
37G The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
Head of milo
maize
orders in for 80,000 more, which are being filled at the present
time.
They began shipping these plants on March 26. The plants
could have been shipped at any time during the winter, as they
throve all through that season, but the fact is that no other section
had warmed up sufficiently, until March 26,
to justify the setting out of the plants. They
sell the plants at two dollars per thousand. This
is "easy money" surely, since the plants
sprout from the potatoes left . in the ground
alter the field has been plowed up and the crop
marketed.
On the twenty-eighth of June they began
the shipment of potatoes. Their crop was sent
to Colorado Springs, every potato carefully
wrapped in tissue paper and sold for thirty cents
a pound. The clubs and epicures of many cities
took the crop as fast as it could be supplied for eighteen
days at thirty cents, when prices dropped. When they were
quoted atone and one-half
cents on September 25,
the Goth Brothers again
stopped shipping and
again held them, as they
lay in the ground all
winter.
All other supplies of
sweet potatoes having
again become exhausted,
they resumed shipping on
February 27, 1904, when
the price had advanced to
two and three-fourths cents per pound, and have been shipping
ever since, the price gradually rising, and now being sold at
four cents, with higher prices in sight, as is usual in the spring
and early summer. A peculiarity that favors the sweet potato
grower in the Coachella Valley is that the soil has a preservative
quality that is distinctive. It is only necessary to keep the irri-
liorticultural Possibilities of the Desert 377
gation water oft" the sweet potato field in order to hold them in
the ground, just as they lay, without blemish, all winter.
The Bermuda onion is also found to grow remarkably well.
It yields heavily and sells readily at a good price. Another
advantage it possesses is that it will keep.
A car of tomatoes, cabbage, or other similar vegetable, shipped
North, must, on account of its perishable nature, be sold as soon
as it reaches the city and placed in the consumers' hands. And
for this reason the glutting of the markets and the consequent low
prices are inevitable. In the case of a car of Bermuda onions there
is no such necessity, for the onions can be delivered to the most
distant parts of the United States
or Canada, or sold for export,
and be kept in stock by the
dealers as a staple article, which
will absolutely prevent the de-
moralization of prices and con-
sequent loss to the producer.
There is a great possibility
that rice will become one of the
paying crops ot the Imperial
Valley and Colorado River re-
gion. It needs a warm country
and also plenty of water, for it Sugar cane growing in
must be flooded for seventy Imperial Valley
days, — from the time the plants
are from six to ten inches high until the grain is in the milk.
Both conditions can be met on the desert, and there is no reason
that this should not become a regular crop.
Alfalfa is by many regarded as the " queen of desert forage
plants." It will grow in a greater variety of soils, is hardier, will
resist more alkali, is richer in nutritive qualities than clover,
yields heavier tonnage, is less trouble to grow, enriches the soil
for future and diff'erent crops by gathering nitrogen from the
atmosphere, and gathers useful mineral elements from the deeper
layers of soil. It is thus a great renovator of the soil.
What may be accomplished in a short time under good con-
ditions on the desert is being demonstrated by Mr. Fred N.
378 The Wonders of tlie Colorado Desert
Johnson, whose place is about a mile and a half west of Indio.
Mr. Johnson is a young man, driven by ill health from Illinois
to Colorado, where, for several years, he was engaged in the
growing of small fruits. He then moved to Southern California
and finally upon the desert, taking up, under the homestead act,
one hundred sixty acres of land. A little over three years ago he
began the active cultivation of his place, or rather a small portion
of it, having a firm belief that it is far better to work a few acres
well than a large number indifferently. He has about six and
a half acres already planted, and to one unfamiliar with the rapid
growth of plant life in this natural forcing-house the results he
has attained seem little less than marvelous.
With a clear perception of what he desired to attain he planted
accordingly. He decided that, as fruits grown on the desert
On the main canal,
Imperial Valley
f^S^<?^-;i>
mature so much earlier than those grown elsewhere, he would
endeavor to secure a succession of crops for the home markets
of Riverside, Redlands, Los Angeles; and San Francisco. It is
well understood that fruits and vegetables which appear in the
markets a few weeks ahead of the regular seasons command
high prices, especially if these early products are oi fine appear-
ance and equally fine quality. Here then were objects to be
attained. The soil of his ranch is, in the main, a sedimentary
deposit almost as light as ashes, which works easily, does not
"bake" after irrigation and yet retains the moisture. For
irrigation he drove three wells, each in the neighborhood of one
hundred and six feet deep, equipping them with self-acting wind-
mill pumps.
For an early crop he planted twelve short rows of asparagus, —
Horticultural Possibilities of the Desert '379
less than an acre. On the second year it came into bearing
and this year and last he began to ship as early as February
15. He found, however, that his shipments were no earlier
than the asparagus grown on the San Joaquin River reclaimed
lands in the central part of the state. Still there was a good market
for all he could send. For about two months he continued to
ship, and at the end of the season he found his net returns from
the twelve rows were sixty-five dollars. The vegetable sold in the
market for about ten cents a pound, from which deductions must
be made for crating, commission, and expressage, leaving the net
price gained about seven and a half cents per pound.
As soon as the crop of dewberries, raspberries, and strawberries
began to ripen, the asparagus was neglected and all possible
attention given to the
newer crop. From eight ^.-.-^.^'"v- ...^^
short rows (seventy-five - -r^.;^— -•■•-— .-■^- ->-«'-"j
to one hundred feet long) '''-,^v-^<a^ -■"•'•
one hundred seventeen *\ "*<;•?* -■- .,
crates of dewberries were 'ti'r^r~Nr2-_- :'-' .^^
shipped and sold (besides ^V$^ .. I J^,
seventy quarts put up for / *!].;„.- j..~.-^
home consumption). ^~-—s^ \^
These sold for from one One of the ^
dollar fifteen cents to one ^^^^''"^ ^^^''^'' I^^P^rial Valley
dollar fifty cents a crate
and netted the grower about seven cents a basket, or one dollar
a crate, makine a total of one hundred seventeen dollars for the
season. In addition new plants were grown from the beds and
twenty-seven dollars' worth sold, making the total proceeds from
dewberries one hundred forty-four dollars. There is an unlimited
demand for this kind of fruit and the desert is by far the best place
to grow it.
Then figs and grapes come into bearing about the same time,
viz., June 15. The early figs bring one dollar and fifty cents
for an eight-pound crate, which contains six and one-half
pounds of figs. From eight trees, only three of which bore well,
Mr. Johnson received forty-two dollars last year, and it must
be remembered his trees were but two years old. When I saw
380
The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
them this year (June, 1906) they were trees as large as mine
which have been planted over ten years. The fig crop lasts prac-
tically until December.
From eighteen apricot trees he picked sixty-two crates and
received therefrom fifty-eight dollars net.
He has planted a variety of grapes and is giving them a thorough
test. The Thompson seedless is fast coming into favor as a
table grape. Though small it is of good flavor, and being seedless
is pleasanter to eat. It is a great bearer, though it does not bring
as large a price as other more showy grapes. The Luglienga is
m^^
■\iii:-^'<h.
N I }/ '•■■•""1 ' i/^-'»m*mtJJtfn&'a^k,mteJMiJ''ih
\f
V--7V
}) ''
A drop in the
main canal
an amber-colored grape that ripens earlier than the Thompson
seedless. It bears well and is a larger grape. The Chassalas
Rose is a finely flavored grape that ripens early. It is not a rank
grower, however. The grapes are medium sized and the bunches
rather small. On these accounts it is a favorite with the better
class of purchasers, and its handsome appearance is an added fac-
tor in its favor.
Thousands of grapes of difi^erent varieties have been planted
in the Coachella Valley this year, but Mr. Johnson's method is
one of careful experimentation ere he plants large quantities.
Besides the fruit, Mr. Johnson plants Bermuda onions, from a
small patch of which he took over two hundred sacks. Lettuce
Horticultural Possibilities of the Desert 381
he has all through the winter and Lima beans early in the fall.
The first shipments of these bring in fifteen cents a pound. In
addition he has summer squash, egg plants, chili, cauliflower,
cabbage, tomatoes, and sweet potatoes, and all do well.
In August the almonds begin to ripen, and as these grow to be
very large he obtains twenty cents a pound for them.
One part of his one hundred and sixty acres is of sand-dunes
similar to those in the Sahara. He has determined to experiment
in date-planting in the dunes exactly as they do in the original
home of the date, and for that purpose the government has sent
him nineteen varieties of Algerian and Tunisian dates, two
Egyptian, and two Persian. The results of his experiments are
awaited with interest, because it is assured that all that can be
done he will do.
Altogether the possibilities for horticulture in the desert are
large, and he is wise who, entering upon this new field, keeps in
touch with the experimenters and then follows the results that
are successful.
California Development Company's barn and water tower
at Calexico, California
382
■~v.
■T
*^
Datc-ralm Culture on the Desert 383
CHAPTER XXVI
Date-Palm Culture on the Desert
HO is there that does not enjoy the delicious
and luscious date ? Its rich and meaty sweet-
ness is grateful to young and old alike. The
United States imports large quantities each year
from Asia, the Year-book of Agriculture stating
that in 1901 our imports amounted to 18,434,917
pounds, valued at ^372,400. But it must be
remembered that this valuation was the price at the port of
export, viz., 2.02 cents per pound. The purchaser usually pays
not less than ten to even fifteen and twenty cents, the higher
prices being for the best varieties.
The major portion of these imported dates come from Bassorah
and Maskat, the former on the Shat-el-Arab River, at the head
of the Persian Gulf, and the latter in Arabia. Yet all travelers
and connoisseurs in dates well know that the supply sent to the
United States is of the poorer qualities, and that very few of the
richer and more delicious varieties ever reach our tables. This
is not as it should be, and it is not in accordance with our na-
tional dignity. Yet a few years ago American orders for over
a quarter of a million pounds of the finer varieties were refused
by Algerian growers because the European demand far exceeds
the supply. We need dates for our tables as food, and for con-
fectionery as luxuries. We are willing to pay a good price
for them, and if we cannot secure them in one way we will in
another.
It was not deemed possible to grow dates in the United States
until a few years ago, when the matter began to be more than
mere casual haphazard guesswork. An office was organized in
the Department of Agriculture to make detailed studies as to
the climatic, soil and cultural requirements of new crop-plants,
384
The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
and to determine where they could be grown most successfully.
The date was one of the first to receive careful and thorough
attention. A comparison of temperatures was found to reveal
that in the Salton Basin on the Colorado Desert of Southern
California there is a climate which in some respects out-Saharaed
Sahara. Parts of Arizona were also found to be very similar
in climate to the home of the date.
Accordingly an expedition was fitted out to go to Persia, Algeria,
Arabia, Egypt, Tunis, and other date-growing countries, not only
for the purpose of studying the various methods of date growing,
but also to secure for experimental planting in the United States a
variety of the best and richest kinds.
Palms in tJie foot-hills near Indio
The investigations were most carefully and thoroughly carried
on by experts and a large amount of both scientific and practical
knowledse obtained. It was found that the date best suited
for testing purposes, as well as for practical growing after the
experimental stage had passed, was the famous Deglet Noor from
the Algerian Sahara. Its fruit is of fairly large size, dark amber
colored, translucent and with a small, pointed pit. The flesh
is firm, sweet, and of exquisite flavor and aroma. When properly
handled in gathering and packing it remains clean, has a fine
smooth skin, is unbroken and dry, and can be served as a dessert
fruit with most appetizing results, entirely diff'erent from the
sticky, dirty-looking, mashed-up masses that come from the
Persian Gulf region.
There are, however, three kinds of dates of which we ought
to have a sufficiency grown in the limits of our own country.
There are, in addition to the Deglet Noor and kindred varieties,
which are the only kinds popularly known in America, and
called by the trade "soft dates," two other types, viz., the "fresh"
Date-Palm Culture on the Desert 385
and the "dry" dates. Fresh dates contain far less sugar than
soft dates and consequently readily ferment and turn sour. But
if eaten when fresh, as one eats grapes, they make a most de-
licious table fruit. Dry dates are harder and more solid than
soft dates, drying and hardening on the palms and dropping off
as they harden. When gathered they may be kept for years if
placed where they are dry and safe from weevils. Dry dates
do not taste at all like ordinary dates, as they are not nearly as
sweet and have besides a nutty flavor.
All these kinds can be grown in the United States. This has
been satisfactorily demonstrated, I believe. Soft dates have been
successfully cultivated and gathered both at Tempe, Arizona,
and at Salton. Only the other day I had the pleasure of seeing
bunches of dates which in the fall of the year will no doubt
weigh two hundred or more pounds and be as ripe and delicious
as any that are ordinarily imported. As far back as 1895 dry
dates were grown in the Coachella Valley. The fruits were
about one and a quarter to one and a half inches long and five-
eighths of an inch wide, of brownish amber color, much wrinkled
and with a dull meal-bloom on the surface. The flesh was hard,
but free from fiber and of fine flavor.
Had our scientists been alert years ago they might have dis-
covered a century since that dates could be grown in the Colorado
Desert. In Palm Canyon,Murray, Andreas, and Lukens Canyons
at the northwestern edge of the desert, various spots on the south-
western edge, and in many places northeast of Indio the fan-
palm (Neoivashingtonia filifcru) abounds.
When in the early spring one rides over the desert and comes
suddenly upon one of these groves, especially if he be piloted
skilfully so that the sand-dunes hide the waving palms until a
sudden turn brings them to view in all their weird, wild beauty,
they seem to leap upon him with a strange and uncanny feeling.
The blue of the sky, the green of the palms, the golden sands, all
combine to impress one with a crude intensity, a blazing splen-
dor that is as startling as it is amazing and overwhelming.
These palms are the chief feature of attraction in Palm Can-
yon, and many visitors each year drive up to enjoy them in their
original habitat.
38Q
The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
Whence came these palms ?
Much has been guessed about them, as that the Spanish padres
brought the seeds from Mexico and planted them here. The
absurdity of this is apparent when one sees the fruit of these
desert palms. They cannot be called dates, these small berries
no larger than coffee beans. Though the Indians pound them
up into a meal and eat them, the meager flesh would never
have justified the padres in going to the trouble of planting
them. These priests were too well versed in horticulture to
bring seeds that were useless, and after all it is largely conjec-
ture and Indian tradition that they ever
saw the recesses of Palm Canyon,
though they are known to have
camped at Palm Springs.
Be this as it
may, modern
scientific re-
search has
now deter-
mined that
this is a sepa-
rate and dis-
■f,..X'. *
All that remains of Seven Palms
tmct species.
All the fan-
palms, with
the peculiar
threads which the edges of the fronds of these palms carry, found
throughout California and the rest of the United States, have
come from this desert area, for they are found only in this one
locality throughout the world.
The Indians used to have most interesting ceremonies in con-
nection with these palms. They tell me that it was their ancient
custom each year to set fire to the dead leaves. This rendered
the fruit of the palm larger and sweeter. It must be confessed
that it would have to be fired many times a year to make the
fruit large and sweet enough for white men to care to gather and
eat. The present fruit is very small and with a seed that occu-
pies nearly all its bulk, leaving only a very narrow covering of
Date-Palm Culture on the Desert
387
"meat." It is sweet and nutritious, however, and the Indians find
it a pleasant and helpful addition to their limited natural dietary.
The Arabs have a proverb that the palm to do well should
have its feet in water and its head in the fire. In the Colorado
Desert these conditions can be pretty nearly fulfilled. The tem-
perature is very high in summer, reaching to I20° Fahrenheit quite
often, and it is not unseldom found as high as 130° Fahrenheit. In
a comparison with Sahara temperatures, the Salton Basin is found
more favorable for maturing the fruit than the former. Hence
the positive statement of the government expert, Mr. Walter T.
Swingle: "There can be no doubt that the Deglet Noor date
Twenty-nine Palms
will ripen fully in the Salton Basin, even when the season is
exceptionally cool. The importance of this demonstration can
scarcely be overestimated, since it renders it possible to estab-
lish in America the culture of this choice date, the most expensive
of dried fruits, with certainty of success."
I have recently paid several visits to the Mecca experimental
farm. This farm is not far from the northwest end of the still-
rising Salton Sea. The farmer in charge, Mr. Bernard G.
Johnson, is of the impression that should the sea continue it
might affect the favorable conditions for date growing.
But of this I think there need be little fear. The date-palm
is a typical desert growth, and in its native habitat is found
ranging from 23° to 35° north latitude. It is possible that the
earlier and hardier varieties would grow as far north in Califor-
nia as Mount Shasta. In Arabia and the African Sahara they are
388 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
the chief growth
of the oases, for
they need hot
and dry at-
mosphere, but
a sufficiency of
moisture at their
roots. From this
it will be seen
that, while a des- >'
ert growth, the
palm is entirely
different from the cac-
tus, which grows suc-
cessfully with but little
water.
It was undoubtedly
the success of the date-
palm in Arizona that
led to the establish-
ment of the Colorado
Desert Station. Set-
tlers first planted the
seeds of the ordinary
dates of commerce as
an experiment, and
Professor James W.
Toumey, while acting-
director of the Arizona
Experiment Station,
became so interested
that he published, in
June, 1898, a bulletin that
clearly showed the possi-
bilites of the date culture
in that region. Pro-
fessor Toumey took up
negotiations with the De-
partment of
Agriculture,
offering to
secure a site
for a special
date garden
— set out.
irrigate, cul
Clusters of dates
on a wild
palm
M
4^
tivate, and
generally
care for the
plants — if
the department would
furnish a collection of
offshoots of the best
sorts of dates grown
in the Old World.
This offer was ac-
cepted, and Mr.Walter
T. Swingle was given
charge of the secur-
ing of the date off-
shoots, for which
purpose he made two
trips to oases in the
Sahara Desert in
Southern Algiers. In
the meantime. Pro-
fessor Toumey left
the Arizona Station
and Professor R. H.
Forbes,who succeeded
him as director, took
hold of the subject in
a thorough and prac-
tical manner.
In August, 1899, the
first small trial impor-
Date-ralm Culture on the Desert 389
tation of plants took place, but owing largely to faulty methods of
packing then in use, all died. In July of the following year 405
trees were received, of twenty-four varieties. Of these 123 trees
died, leaving none of three of the twenty-four varieties. From these
nearly 678 suckers have been taken, all of which have been planted
and are doing fairly well. Up to 1904 a net crop of about three
hundred pounds of fruit had been harvested, and in 1906 some
four thousand pounds of dates were produced in the garden.
Gophers are found to be great enemies to the palm, as they
are to most tree-growths in irrigated regions. They burrow to
the succulent roots which they eat, often following them into
the heart of the tree, which they eat out with fatal results. Where
the palms are on heavy soil this is not so liable to occur as where
they are planted in light sandy soil.
But in spite of gophers and other disadvantages, date culture
has so far progressed in Tempe that it may safely be said it is
no longer an experiment. The ability to make the large ship-
ment of offshoots, above referred to, was owing to the Yankee
ingenuity of Mr. Swingle, who made a bold and (to the Arab
and French and English merchants) startling innovation in the
method of packing and shipping the offshoots. It had been the
custom to send them rooted in tubs. This meant great expense
In the care of the young plants for a year or two in the nursery,
and then tremendous freight charges on account of the bulk,
weight, and perishable nature of the plants.
Mr. Swingle wrapped damp moss, or the fibrous material
found on the mature palms, about the bases, and tied it firmly
in position with stout cords, and then shipped the plants on
camels ninety miles over the desert to Bishra. Here they were
unpacked, reexamined, labeled, repacked, and sent in a special
car by rail to Algiers, three hundred and ninety miles away,
where they were once more examined, watered, trimmed, and
packed in ordinary wooden boxes for shipment by steamer.
As a result of the adoption of this new method of packing, the
expense of transporting offshoots from the Old World deserts
to Arizona and California was cut down to less than one-tenth
of what it had been and yet a larger percentage were made to
grow. The heavy losses in the first importations were all among
390
The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
date offshoots grown in tubs a year before they were shipped,
whereas this very first shipment of offshoots packed by the new
method gave over eighty per cent of successes, though the Arabs
do well to get seventy-five per cent of the offshoots to live when
they are merely moved from one field to another.
This first large shipment left Algiers, June 13, 1900, and
reached New York, July 3, where another careful examination
took place. The Morgan Steamship Line and the Southern
v!^''5^'^,_
■.8ft-
The experimental date farm at Mecca
Pacific Company kindly offered to transport the twenty-three
cases, weighing eight tons, free of freight charges to their des-
tination, and on July 17 the palms reached the Tempe siding
where Professor Forbes was waiting to receive them. They were
immediately unpacked, disinfected, planted, and irrigated with the
results as before shown.
Mr. David G. Fairchild visited Egypt in 1901, and a year
later, acting as agricultural explorer for Mr. Barbour Lathrop,
of Chicago, he went to Arabia, Persia, and Beluchistan in search
Date-Palm Culture on the Desert 391
of choice date varieties. He introduced the standard second-
class sorts, Halawi and Khadawi from Bassorah, the Fard date
from Maskat, as well as many better sorts that do not reach the
American markets. Among the latter, the Khalasa date deserves
mention. It comes from the interior of Arabia, some sixty miles
west of the pearl island, Bahrein, from a region called Hassa.
It is considered by the celebrated traveler, Palgrave, to be "the
perfection of the date." A number of offshoots of this varip«^y
are now growing; in Arizona.
Finally in 1904-5, Mr. Thomas H. Kearney visited the
Djerid date region in the Sahara Desert in Southern Tunis in
order to study date harvesting and curing and to secure the
celebrated Menahker variety — a sort much larger than the
Deglet Noor, and of equally fine flavor.
He studied in detail the date harvest and secured nearly sixty
varieties, including the Menahker, now nearly extinct in its
native oases. Mr. Kearney finds that in former times the Bey
and other high dignitaries were excessively fond of the Menahker
dates and frequently appropriated the entire crop, neglecting, of
course, to pay for them. Finally the proprietors, in disgust,
stopped planting the variety and even went to the length of cut-
ting down old palms in full bearing.
Mr. Kearney fortunately was able to find a few surviving palms
still bearing offshoots. Only with great diflRculty and by the
exercise of much diplomacy did he finally succeed in inducing
the owners to part with nine offshoots of this precious sort, and
even then six of these offshoots were so small that little hope was
entertained of their growing. Great care, however, was given them
on their arrival in this country and all of them are now growing.
Besides the date-palms secured by expeditions sent to the
deserts of the Old World by the Department of Agriculture,
many other varieties have been secured by correspondence with
native Arab merchants, European managers, and American con-
suls, until now both Arizona and California can boast of having
larger and better collections of varieties than are to be found in
any single oasis in the Old World.
When the climatic conditions of the Salton Basin were under-
stood by Mr. Swingle he urged the immediate establishment of
392 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
an experimental date garden there, and Mecca was chosen as
the site. It had already demonstrated its kindness to the fan-
palm in its native state and in addition a date-palm had been
growing successfully for the past fifteen years at Indio, only a
few miles away. Some two hundred to two hundred and fifty
pounds of fruit a year are said to have been produced by this
palm in recent years.
In 1904, Mr. A. V. Stubenrauch, assistant horticulturalist of
the University of California, directed the planting out of about
seven hundred trees. Of these not quite half are now living,
most of them thriving and doing well. Mr. Swingle has taken
and still takes the greatest possible interest in the farm and
visits it as often as his duties in Washington will allow. The
Deglet Noor, which does not ripen well in Arizona, is expected
to ripen here, as the tem-
,-vMlv; perature in the summer
> . -\V)^ >^^ season is warmer than in
r^^\':WymA^^M- ,1!'. ^^^ native Saharan oases.
! LArr ''Ir^Mi^^ ^u^ • :.
The summer is warmer
^^f^!^'^^''''^-'--^''-\'^''~\_J:^^^ "^ -*- and comes earlier than in
" Palms at Hanlon ramh Arizona, melons ripening
in the Salton Basin some
three to four weeks earlier than in Arizona. The mesquite also
blooms some fourteen days earlier as well as bears earlier fruit.
In i860, also, Mr. Hamlin, one of the oldest settlers at Yuma,
planted several palms from the seeds of bought Mexican dates,
at his place on the Colorado River six miles below Yuma, where
they throve and did well, having borne fruit for many years.
The date industry in the Salton Basin is considered of sufficient
importance to warrant the creation by the government of still
another date garden besides the one at Mecca. Steps are being
taken this year, 1906, to establish the new garden near Indio
above any possible danger from the rise of Salton Lake.
A number of Deglet Noor date-palms in the Salton Basin are
loaded with fruit for the first time this year, 1906, and in spite
of the fact that the young trees do not ripen their fruit so rapidly
as old ones and also of the unusually cool weather that pre-
vailed during May and June, the dates nevertheless promise to
Date-Palm Culture on the Desert 393
mature earlier than they do in the Sahara and in time to reach
the Christmas market.
The soil should be a sandy loam. Too heavy, clayey soil
does not take up water fast enough, as evaporation in the Salton
Basin is exceedingly rapid. If the soil is too light, on the other
hand, it does not contain enough nourishment for the plant and
is unable to retain the moisture needed.
At first sight it would be thought impossible for anything to
grow in so alkaline a soil as this evidently is. Analysis shows,
however, that dates thrive well in Algeria where the soils contain
a far greater percentage of alkali than in moSt parts of the
Salton Basin. The date is peculiarly able to resist alkali; up to
a certain extent, iiideed, a small amount of alkali is to be de-
sired rather than othenvise. Indeed it is now pretty well estab-
lished that in the marvelous laboratory of Nature, provision is
made in the constitution of the palm to utilize the alkali as plant-
food and that, therefore, a proper amount of alkali is an advan-
tage and not a detriment.
Other remarkably favorable conditions existent at Mecca for
date growing are the facts that artesian wells supply an abun-
dance of water, and that it is slightly warm as it comes from the
interior of the earth. Cold water used for irrigation checks the
growth of the palm and hinders the ripening of the fruit. With
water already partially warm — warm enough for all seasons
— as it comes pouring out of the wells in abundance, Mecca and
the whole Salton Basin are highly favored.
The result of the experiments so far have led to the planting
of a number of acres in dates, one planter alone having just
put in several thousand seeds and offshoots. Under the kindly
direction of Dr. Wellwood Murray, the Coahuilla Indians at
Palm Springs also planted in August, 1905, twenty-four date-
palms, which were supplied by the government. They were of
assorted varieties and are held by the Indians of the reservation
in common. So far they are doing well, and, unless the Indians
grow weary of caring for them before they come into bearing, it
is confidently hoped that they will become a source of palatable
and nutritious food, and of revenue as well. At present all but
one are alive and growing satisfactorily.
394
The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
It will be apparent, therefore, that should all the palms of the
Colorado Desert and of Arizona come into bearing, these regions
will soon revolutionize the trade in dates in the United States,
as the West has already done that
in oranges, lemons, prunes,
walnuts, etc.
i>^
M
■ f^if'y
^■.'■.
On the
trail lip
Palm Canyon
It is interesting to note that, unlike most fruit trees, the date
is a diecious plant, that is, its flowers are borne on separate plants;
one is male and the other female. While in their native state the
separate trees grow in such proportion that pollenation is natural.
Date-Palm Culture on the Desert
395
the Arabs have brought the cuhure to so high a degree that they
grow only a ninety-seventh part of the male trees that Nature
requires, and they artificially pollenate by binding the male
flowers, with their abundance of pollen, in the sheath where the
female flowers are coming to maturity. In some cases where the
female flowers mature first and the fruit would be lost because
of the lateness of the male flowering, they have learned that they
can save the male flowers over a year and then artificially pol-
lenate this year's female flowers with last year's male flowers.
The flower-clusters generally come about the month of April,
and on the female tree will vary from five to twenty clusters, not
all produced, however, at the same time. The clusters shoot up
from the stem, about as thick as the
wrist, beautifully
. -s-^.
Palms in the foot-hills near India
enclosed in their strong protecting sheath. When the sheath
opens the blossoms are found to be white, thus adding the charm
of contrast to the rich green of the leaves. Each flower-cluster
on the female tree produces a bunch of dates, the fruit growing
in numbers on slender twigs. A vigorous tree is commonly al-
lowed to produce from eight to twelve such bunches, and each
bunch will bear from ten to forty pounds of dates.
Rain has a directly injurious effect upon the palm. It not only
prevents pollenation of the flowers in the spring, but it rots the
fruit and makes it drop before maturity in the autumn. The
effect of the moisture is to cause a rapid fermentation of the
saccharine matter so that the dates spoil when ripening. Hence
the great advantage that the Salton Basin region has over other
39 6 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
desert areas where, however, rains come either in spring or
autumn.
Though the date can be planted and grows successfully from
seed, it is often found that a good date will produce a poor palm.
This is due to the fact that the pollenation of the growing fruit
has taken place from a worthless male tree. Hence it is deemed
the only safe course to propagate from offshoots, taking them
from trees of high pedigree. These offshoots spring up from
around the base of the trunk, and reproduce the parent plant
exactly. They are produced abundantly by young palms, but.
cease to form when the trees are from ten to fifteen years old.
When the offshoots are from three to six years old they can safely
be removed from the parent stem and transplanted. They re-
quire an abundant and steady supply of water.
While the date-palm requires great heat to develop its fruit,
it is capable of standing considerable frost. On December 24,
1905, the thermometer at Mecca was down as low as 18° Fahren-
heit, and while young, weak trees were killed, as well as recently
planted offshoots that were not yet rooted, the older trees showed
no ill effect from the frost.
Altogether the subject is a most interesting one, and I con-
fidently expect that a couple of decades from now will see the
major portion of the ten million pounds of dates used annually
in the United States growing in the highly favored localities of
the Colorado Desert, or similar places in the sister region of
Arizona.
The Burro on the Desert
397
CHAPTER XXVII
The Burro on the Desert
N the desert fourteen-fifteenths of the travel away
from wagon roads would be impossible without
the burro. It is the standby of the prospector
and the desert enthusiast.
Centuries before the camel was brought to our
American shores the burro had proven his worth,
had demonstrated his strength, endurance, and
reliability. Sweet-tempered and patient, too much of a phi-
losopher to ever hurry or worry, he becomes a mental and
spiritual guide, voiceless but practical, unobtrusive but in-
sistent, to every intelligent man who is long in his company on
the desert. I think much of the burro and his intelligence. I
gladly claim kinship with him, though that means that I write
myself down an ass. The burro knows many things better than
most white men, even the intelligent ones — desert-intelligent
I mean — such as I am a little. Twice burros have saved my
life by finding water when my intelligence could not discover it,
and often their trail-craft has proven safer to follow than mine.
True, they can be as mean as humankind at times. They will
provokingly get off the trail, hide in the dark, and let you leave
them behind for miles, even when they have a pack on their backs.
True, they sometimes have the provoking habit of going down
on their knees, purposely, I verily believe, when they are on the
worst possible places on the mountain trails, and they know you
will pitch heels over heads — their heads — to your eminent
danger and discomfort.
True, they will wander off sometimes and leave you in the
lurch if you do not bind them to you with cords of — stomachic —
affection. A pint or, better still, a quart of grain three times a
day makes a "threefold cord" that binds as much as love.
398 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
*^^timo
"> .- j/A.
Yet in spite of all these things the burro is man's invaluable
companion and servant on the desert.
On our trips w^e had three burros, Babe, Kate, and Jennie.
Babe v^^as happy in the recent acquisition of a baby, and as soon
as I saw^ her I dubbed her Marchioness, exactly for the same
reason that Dick Swiveller called the little kitchen maiden by the
same name.
The Marchioness w^as a sweet looking, cute little creature and
I w^as at once undone by her charms. She had a tiny, dainty,
clean white muzzle, with white patches of perfect evenness and
balance under her eyes. Her color was of brown, shading off
into mouse, and on the course of her spine, as straight as if it
had been put there by a ruler, was a line of black, reaching from
between her ears to the
very tip of her tail.
But she was a de-
ceitful piece of bag-
gage. I shall never
forget how she wan-
dered away one night
from her pseudo
owner, following in
the sweet moonlight some Indians or Mexicans who thought
to lure her away and keep her. My friend, riding on the back
of her patient and devoted mother, followed her tor long weary
miles over the salt-bush strewn, effloresced soils of the region
northwest of the Salton Sea to Fig Tree John's. She refused to
be called back home even by the voice of her own mother, and
the poor rider simply had to keep chasing her, as an enthusiast
chases a butterfly, or an irate sleeper a flea, and like the butterfly
or the flea, whenever he dismounted to catch and tie her, the
irresponsible, irrepressible, bewitching, aggravating little creature,
with a flap of her long ears, a flit of her tail, and a snicker, as it
in derision, would kick up her heels and run off, and the chase
had to be begun again.
The way we happened to find this out was that we had been
visiting at the Indian village of Martinez. We started for Mecca
late in the evening. We were indifferent and careless about
^^ «•-■
Ovir three burros
-Tlic Burro on tlie Desert 399
roads, and the desert air and the witchery of moonUght made it
impossible for us calmly to decide where we were and which
road we ought to take. So blindly and wildly we drove across
the desert, back and forth, up and down, as the sweet will prompted
of the one who held the reins, and thus in our inconsequent
shuttling back and forth — for we should have got nowhere
until morning on the plan w^e were following, and didn t much
care whether we did or not — we ran into our friend just as he
had succeeded in catching the Marchioness and was dragging
her behind him, a captive against her will.
But she never resented any kind of treatment, and though thus
dragged home, the next day she was as naively affectionate,
familiar, and confidential as before.
When we started off for the Brooklyn Mine I took the box
of the wagon and Van rode Kate and was to drive along Babe
and Jennie who
were packed. ^'^^'^^'*'"r"^— » ^'••
He confidently f^^K^-'^W^. Z^'
expected the ^^ \W^\/h'-^^'M^-^^ ^^'"^"— -
Marchioness 0!^ \^ ^>^^M^^^ .
would follow. ^-^--^ J^-nme
She did, but it
was her ow-n s-\veet will, rather than her mother, that she
followed. Unconscious of his difficulties, we in the wagon
ahead slowly plodded on, until in desperation he decided to leave
her behind. Fortunately she was cared for in our nine days'
absence, and having perforce become weaned in this time she
found herself henceforth, to her mother, merely as any other
burro, and the sweet relationship of mother and daughter ceased
to exist.
The burro has been made the object of many a poet's lofty
strains. Here is a quatrain I found in the heart of the Colorado
Desert posted on a prospector's cupboard door. I congratulate
the unknown p6et.
«< I am a burro, the loftiest peaks all unafraid I scale.
Picking my way, sure-footed, along the dizziest trail ;
I lead in pioneering work which, but for me, must stop ;
I am a burro, padent, dumb, but always at the top."
400 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
While the merciful man is as merciful to his beast on the desert
as in any other place, it must not he forgotten that an animal on
the desert means far more to a man than in any other place.
The mule or burro he has taken with him is his sole and absolute
dependence. Without it his life is in danger, much travel is
almost an impossibility, for man unaided cannot carry the food
supply he needs, and while the desert does, in its own peculiar
way, afford brow'se and picking for the animal, it offers but little
except to the very well informed, and not much to him, in the way
of food. Hence it is imperative that a desert traveler do two things :
he must take as good care of his animals as he possibly can,
yet he must under no circum.stances run any risk of letting them
get away from him. These two imperative conditions often
seem to come in direct conflict, yet they must never be lost sight
of or forgotten. Let me enlarge somewhat to make the grave
importance of the matter clear. Many of the desert tragedies
that have been recorded, and hundreds that have not, have come
about through carelessness about tying up the mules or burros;
allowing them to wander unhobbled in search of food; or leaving
them untied (only hobbled) at night in order that they may "pick
up all they can." It is in strict accordance with the first impera-
tive condition I have laid down that animals be given every
possible chance to get all the food they need, but in doing that
it is more imperative still that nothing be done to jeopardize
human life. An untied mule or burro, unhobbled, may be fright-
ened away from the prospector's camp, or be maddened by a
horsefly or gnats until he has traveled twenty miles. If water
is scarce a hobbled animal will often travel twenty miles at night
in order to reach it. I have been a personal sufferer several
times from this very cause. Once on the Painted Desert our
animals, all hobbled, deserted us and went back many miles
where we found them digging for water. On another occasion
when on the way to Lee's Ferry, I spent a lonely day in camp,
my driver having started off to fetch in his horses before breakfast,
and following them for sixteen miles before they w^ere caught.
Had he not been an exceptionally desert-hardened man, that
thirty-two miles — sixteen on foot and sixteen on a saddleless
horse — would have so exhausted him as to render his return to
The BuiTo on the Desert
401
where I was camped somewhat problematical. What then
could I have done had he failed to return ? On a road where
water could be found only by the well informed, hidden away
in secret tanks up tiny canyons, or under unmarked arro}'o banks,
no ordinary traveler can conceive the horrors of the situation.
To walk in the intense heat without water is almost an impossibil-
ity. To carry provisions is to add to the difficulty, and yet to go
without them equally impracticable. Then, too, it is disturbing,
to say the least, to the peace of mind of the strongest-hearted to
find himself in a strange place, uncertain as to the road, often
where there is no road at all, — nothing but landmarks over a
trackless desert, — short of water, and alone. No wonder that
many men break down
under it, grow con-
fused, become delirious
and finally perish in
their aimless wander-
ings-
Hence the emphasis Throwing
mv caution: never ,. ,
■' . . atamond
run any risk in tying /^^^/^
your animals. See that
your tie-ropes are of
the strongest and most
reliable. See that you tie only to the strongest of trees
or around the base of bushes that are secure. Be ever alert in
this regard, as one act of carelessness may cause the loss ot }our
life, as well as those of others who are dependent upon you.
In my "Indians of the Painted Desert Region" I have explained
how an animal may be picketed to a hole in the ground with
perfect safety, so that there is no excuse for not tying up securely
even though there seems to be nothing to tie to. If animals are
thus tied up at night it is necessary that a day-rest be taken,
their packs removed, and an opportunity given to them to eat
whenever a place that seems to afford feed is reached. In the day-
time they can be watched, and while vigilance must not be lessened
it is then more readily and easily exercised.
^'■y.
Burros' lunch time
402
A Tramp rroin San Diego to Yuma 403
CHAPTER XXVIII
A Tramp from San Diego to Yuma
OTHING can give a clearer idea of the desert
than days of travehng over it. General descrip-
tions are often confusing on account of the
impossibility of properly locating the many and
^ various objects described. In a detailed de-
3I5 scription of a trip from point to point, however,
^ the reader can look upon the map and follow,
''"' step by step, the journeyings of his author and
thus gain a true conception of at least that part of the country
described.
For this reason I propose to devote several chapters to trips
that few people nowadays make, — trips of hot, weary days ct
tramping, and, as a rule, cool, delicious nights. Three of us —
Mr. Carl Eytel, the artist, Mr. Lea Van Anderson, my general
assistant, and myself — were concerned in these trips. Sometimes
one and sometimes another waote the description; sometimes one
went alone, sometimes all of us together; but to secure uniformity
in the narrative I have written all the accounts in the first person
and as if we had all been together.
We purpose to tramp from San Diego to Yuma, across the
desert, on the historic trail of Kearney and St. George Cooke,
where the Army of the West met its sad defeat at San Pasqual
and the gallant Captain Johnston lost his life.
On the summit of Spring Valley Hill we turn to bid farewell
to the Pacific Ocean, which gleams, a polished mirror, bordered
by the green beauty of the verdure and the rising hills, fifteen
miles away. Peeping through the rich green veil stand the walls,
towers, and shining roofs of San Diego. Before us, beckoning to
the east, rises hill after hill, clothed in somber green, mvsterious
and silent. Down through the valley, past lemon groves and
404
The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
wheat-fields, leads the highway, showing a ranch-house here, a
patch of cactus there, now a cluster of oak trees and again chap-
arral and fields.
At noon we rest under the shade of willow trees in which the
blackbirds chatter. Two Indian lads come along, chasing a
goat. The boys are trying to lasso the goat, but the animal
evades the noose that circles over his head many times before it
is finally caught securely on one horn and thus leads to his capture.
Then an Indian woman, with a bundle of clothes, comes to the
near-by pool, and we are soon in interested conversation. She
tells of the rainless years that have made more wretched the
poverty of her people; of the avarice of the whites who constantly
seek to get possession of the little land she owns; of her efforts
'"^^^m:
'trui!
to hold on to it. Her sister is married to one of the leading men
of the Cocopah tribe, and wished her to go and live with them,
but the journey is long and she prefers to live and die on the soil
that she has known and loved from childhood. She tells ot her
husband who warned her against the whites and especially the
white lawyers, and then it develops that her husband was a
white man and perfectly familiar with the snares and pittalls
of the law.
We bid her adios! as many miles are ahead of us to be traveled.
We find a dry country, sparsely settled, and the few inhabitants
living in hopes to see the rain after several "dry" years. How
beautiful this region would become if a stream of water could be
made to flow through it!
Now we pass through Dulzura and Potrero, a valley enclosed
A Tramp from San Diego to Yuma K).5
^%f
by mountains which rise higher and higher to Mount Tecarte, on
whose brow a forest fire makes a smoke-wreath.
At last Campo is reached, the terminus of the stage Hne trom San
Diet^o. It used to go through to Yuma and then on, and on,
crossing deserts, plains, mountains, aiul rivers to St. Louis,
and the old stage-station here is tail ot memories ot those early
staining days. The massive stone walls, too, ot the old store,
built to withstand Indian attacks, the custom-house, the old
custom-house officer, could all give lively accounts of exciting
times in the former days when Mexicans and Indians from across
the line, and bandits on this side, kept things from stagnating.
Campo is an ideal place for the romancer. Here he may dream
under the shadow of mighty oaks while his eye wanders over
green pastures. He may take his gun and follow deer, wildcat,
and mountain
lion, or %■ i s i t
Indian rancherias
and learn of the
life of this fast dy-
ing out aboriginal
people.
It is very early
morning when we
leave, passing the
silent houses, the valley pasture, and the lone schoolhouse. Our
road soon gleams like a white ribbon in the morning sun, playing
hide-and-seek, yet never so charming as when it leads us into a
green spot where we find clear, cool water. For we are near
to the desert now, and the heat of October keeps the body very
dry and tramping is not eas}' under such conditions.
Soon the ruins of a stone cabin and stone corral walls indicate
that we are at the abandoned stage-station of Hill's Valley. But
everything is deserted. There is neither man nor animal here,
nor do we see a living creature while we march on the sandy,
uphill road. A fire has raged over the hillsides and burnt or
withered all the chaparral, making the dreary waste ot hills
darker, drearier, and sadder. Behind the gloomy ridges new
barriers loom up, while a dark blue wall seems to shut us in on
"'■ Ruins in Hill's Valley
406
The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
■?%y\yi«'
every side. Here and there are deserted ranches, silent witnesses
to the tragedies that inevitably come v^hen men, ignorant ot
desert conditions, endeavor to wrest from Nature what she is
reluctant to give. Ahead of us is a striking, narrow gap and we
picture ourselves passing through it into the desert, but the road
winds us away from it back into the hills.
More deserted ranches are passed, then we descend into a
valley, where ahead of us we see the grateful shade of cottonwood
trees. This proves to be the Jacumba Ranch and one of the
old stage-stations, now kept as a rural sanitarium by an hospitable
couple, Mr. and Mrs. Foster. Not far from the adobe ranch-
house are the sulphur springs, and in the bath-house, with three
somersaults, you may take three
■'^ separate baths at three tempera-
tures, rang-
ing from
cold to hot,
the latter
being at
about I go"
Fahrenheit.
Resting in
the shade of
the brush veranda we listen with interest to our host as he tells of
the early history of this stage-station. How that the McKane
family left their home in Texas, traveled in a prairie schooner
over the plains and deserts of Texas and Arizona, crossed the
Colorado River, then the Colorado Desert, and finally settled
here among the cottonwoods and near to the healing waters
of the springs. The real California of verdure and flowers they
never saw. This was good enough for them. They could
make a good living caring for later desert travelers, who would
be glad of anything after the horrors of the desert. But it was
not all restful and peaceful. They were near the boundary
"line" of Mexico and the United States, and they found
it had long been a natural rendezvous for the outcasts and
desperadoes of both countries. No wonder when they built
their adobe ranch-house the windows were made small, — just
■'vl4r'- ■ I r-^ -■ 5 ■■""■^ V
— • Ranch-house
"* "~^ ' at Jacumba
A Tramp Iroin San Diego to Yuma 407
large enough to peep through behind the barrel of a rifle. They
invested their little cash in stock, but they found it hard work
to guard it. Indians played havoc with it. Raids by night
were frequent and the robbers tauntingly and boldly displayed
the hides and horns of the stolen and slaughtered cattle. Then
the Texas blood asserted itself. It decided to put a stop to the
whole thieving business by vigorous methods.
One night, after several such spent in watch-
ing, the alarm was given. The raiders were
here! Every man on the ranch was armed
and told not to fire until the signal was
given. When the rifles did, at last,
speak out, eight Indians fell dead, several
were wounded and carried away by
their friends, but, alas, Mr. McKane's
son was also killed in the sharp,
short conflict that ensued ere the
~ Front the mountains
to the desert
remalninc Indians fled. But the lesson
was learned, and from that day the Indians have let the white
man's cattle alone at Jacumba. The white and Mexican bandits
and desperadoes are given short shrift, too, and the line-riders are
constantly busy, riding back and forth, patrolling the boundary,
guarding the frontier from smugglers, criminals, and the unlawful
entry of Chinese. This "line-riding" is not generally understood.
408 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
Wherever Uncle Sam thinks there is a possibility of illegal entry
of any kind from any country into our borders he establishes a
frontier patrol, and, between Mexico and the United States from
Yuma to San Diego, this patrol is in active, daily service.
At Jacumba we met Mr. Hutchins, the Chinese inspector,
and accepting his kind hospitality, were soon listening to his
interesting experiences in the discharge of his duty, which is
to allow no unentitled Mongolian to cross from Mexico into the
United States. A short time before he had received warning
that a band of Chinamen would doubtless try to cross the line
at a certain point. The three "line-riders" of Campo, jacumba,
and Silsbee joined forces and waited and watched. The China-
men had chosen a dreary rainy day for their illegal entry. Said
he: "We saw them coming and secretly got as near to them as
possible. They were trudging along, doubtless picturing them-
selves safe in San Diego, when, suddenly, we charged them at
full speed, firing our revolvers in the air. It was a surprise party!
The poor fellows sank to their knees crying out in their excitable
way, doubtless pleading with us not to kill them, and seemed
much relieved when we merely surrounded them, bade them
march on, and the following day jailed them at Campo, there to
be photographed and tried for entering Uncle Sam's territory
without his permission."
Out of the green valley of jacumba the road leads upward
again toward the crest of the mountains. A rapid change in
the vegetation announces the very close proximity ot the desert.
Cottonwood, chaparral, and live-oaks disappear. The agave,
Bigelovii cactus, opuntia, creosote bush, and other desert plants
take their places. Before reaching the summit a sign-post
attracts our attention. It is one of those told of in the chapter
on Sign-boards. An iron tablet, painted in black and white,
fastened to an iron post, tells us it is still ninety miles to Yuma,
and seventy-three to San Diego. Friendly guardians of the
desert road, how grateful weary travelers are to the thoughtful
supervisor Jasper, who erected you! ■ These sign-boards are seen
at intervals on this desert road, giving not only distances in both
directions, but directions to reach the nearest water.
At length we are on the crest, 3,800 feet above sea-level. WTiat
A Tramp from Saii Diego to Yuma 409
a marvelous panorama. It is a weird vista of the far-reaching
Colorado Desert. Mountain chains rise out of the grim waste
and slope into it again to mix with the infinite sand-plain. Far
off toward the east in shadowy blue tints are the pointed, needle-
crowned mountains of Arizona. Dark green lines are drawn
on the hazy horizon, and in the far distant Imperial country
water is shining.
Descending the steep mountain road, we are soon gladdened
by the sight that, of all others, is most delightful to the weary
traveler, clear, cool, pure water, led by a pipe from the near-by
hill into troughs. Close by are standing the walls of a ruined
house, and under the sloping walls of one of the hills are stone
corrals sufficient for the horses and mules of a cavalry regiment.
Here in the old days high carnivals and revels were held. Whiskv,
cards, sing-
ing and such
r e v e 1 r y a s
rude and .^.^ ^ n ^
wild men '*^'^yI*'''J£h*^. _ .. ^^- :■: UUh^. j^^
enjoy saw ■" "-^-^^-"^^ " "" ^ " **" -
the hours
pass, for here Coyote well, on road between San
teamsters, pros- Diego and Yuma
pectors, miners,
and other desert wayfarers used to meet where there were no
restraints but their own appetites and passions. And yet, the
whilom owner of this desert whisky-hell is now a peaceful, useful
member of society, an earnest worker in the Salvation Army in
one of the cities of the Pacific Coast.
Leaving here we journeyed through the Devil's Canyon, a rocky
gateway and pass which does not in the least suggest to the casual
eye that not far away is a mine where valuable stones and gems
are found. One particular precious stone called hyacinth is
found and is now being cut and marketed in quantities.
As the sun sets, the hills sloping down into the desert change
suddenly from dull brown, as if the Master Artist Himself had
touched them with a color full of life. They blush to a rosy
alpen-glow, while the whole desert valley beneath is filled with
410
The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
a flood of golden light. And the sky! A changing spectacle
of emerald green, gold, and azure, playing, interchanging, blending,
until finally all colors fade away and mountains and desert alike
sink to sleep.
But we are still far from water. Devil's Canyon looks gloomy
and forbidding, so we push on. Gradually the wall; decline
in height and recede, and soon we are free from them. Then
the moon shows us a sign-board, "four miles" to the next water-
ing place. Near! But too far for tired wayfarers, so, unrolling
our blankets, we are soon asleep on our sandy beds.
The water is found at Coyote Wells early in the morning, and
used for our breakfast cooking. Then we rest all day, lounging
and enjoying the scenery, — that which we had left and that which
Blue Lake, Imperial Valley
is before us. A traveler with his wife passes, bound for the
settlements of the Imperial country, and that night, while
around our camp-fire, a Mexican family in an eight-horse wagon
arrives. When the "chores" are attended to, and the evening
meal disposed of, violin and guitar are brought forth and sweet
voices are soon mingling with the tones of the instruments in
soft Spanish melodies of love and romance.
Then we sleep. Before three o'clock in the morning the singers
are up and off, and we prepare for our sixteen-mile tramp over
the desert. It is an entirely barren stretch save for a few ocatillas
and half-starved mesquites. Then we pass a solitary grave of a
thirst-maddened traveler, and as w^e do so see stretching out over
the desert the deceiving mirage of lake and rocky shores. We
A Tramp from San Diego to Yuma 41 1
are safe, however, for each man has his own canteen, and we
know that, with care, our water supply will carry us to the next
watering place. Yet that wizard lake! How it deceives even
our practical eyes! Blue mountains are clearly reflected on the
placid surface, and palms are standing in it, a peculiar feature
seldom seen. Almost instantly it disappears, and as we seek
for it, another and different kind of wonder arrests our attention.
The wheel-tracks of wagons and the tracks of horses are sculp-
tured in sand and stand out a foot or more higher than the
surrounding plain. What a wonderful example of the way
Nature accomplishes things! Here the pressure has cemented
the sand together (with a sticky admixture that made it possible).
Then the winds and rains and an occasional cloudburst have
conspired to carry away all the looser sand
not so compressed. And
now it is solid and has
a wonderful
^.
n
►.f.*-.
Indian wells near Silsbee
appearance. Not far away is a hill of monster oyster shells,
elsewhere referred to.
A few more miles and the landscape changes again, and to our
delight we find flowing water. It is Colorado River water,
brought hither by the work of man. We have reached the Impe-
rial country. And as this region occupies a complete chapter
in this book we pass over its description here. We rest awhile
on the banks of Blue Lake, pass through Silsbee and at night
see the sky put on its pink vesture, with clouds trailing along
streaked with dark red, while Signal Mountain, to our right,
is aflame in astral fire.
Two miles from Silsbee, on the east side of New River, hides
a remnant of the old adobe stage-station, Indian Wells. This
used to be a strong and massive building, with walls like a fortress
412 The AVonders of the Colorado Desert
T/frrfl
'^•'
Where five canals meet in Imperial Valley
and completely surrounded by a protecting wall. Inside this
wall was plenty of water and wood, so that the station-keeper
was safe from Indian attacks. How forcefully the lesson i5>
driven home here, in sight of the green fields of cultivated ranches,
how the romance of the stage-coach days has given place to the
romance of the plow. On every hand now are evidences of
human industry and prosperity. Calexico and Mexicali are
passed, but there is little
to buoy up the mind
during the long march
over dreary plateaus and
through deep sand until
we descend from a slop-
ing mesa to the ruins of
an adobe station. This
is the famous Cookes Wells, dug by Lieutenant-Colonel, after-
wards General P. St. George Cooke, when in 1846 he marched
with the Mormon battalion from La Joya, New Mexico, to San
Diego, California.
A day later we see the main canal of the Imperial Valley system,
the dredger at work deepening its channel. On the canal bank
sits a group of finely built Cocopah Indians, laughing and joking,
doubtless at us, as we pass. Then, suddenly, they spring to
their horses, which stand grazing near by, and ride as if they
have to catch up with
bygone centuries.
For two days we
tramp along by this
canal, — the former
Alamo River, — and at
length reach the ranch
of the Algodones. This
is the place of Algodon, the cotton plant. It seems as if this
must be out of place here, this delicate daughter of the sunny
South. But no, this is its native habitat as much as is the South.
All through Arizona cotton used to be cultivated by the Indians
long centuries before the Spanish appeared on this continent.
There is a ranch-house at Algodones, and its hospitable door
Cookes Wells
A Tramp from San Dieoo to Yuma 413
opens to us, and we soon see why the Mexican inhabitants and
the Cocopah Indians of the neighborhood hve together in peace
and harmony. There is the kind interchange of courtesies from
the one side as well as the other.
Here a surprise awaits us. Our artist is busy making a sketch,
a cluster of Mexicans and Indians around him, when, in picturing
an Indian kan near by, a young Indian in fluent English asks:
" For whom do you make this picture ? "
"For myself!" responds the artist.
"Who gave you permission to make it ? "
"I didn't ask anyone's permission!"
"Well! it is my business. This house belongs to me and I
don't wish a picture made ot it."
The artist courteously replies, "That's all right. If you
don't wish it, I won't draw it!"
This seems to please the Indian and he continues: "You
Americans and Mexicans have different ideas from us. You
like that vs^ay of taking pictures and photographs, but we don't
like it. It is contrary to our ideas to have pictures of our men,
women, children, houses, or horses, because some day all will
be dead, and the pictures remain and are bad memories. It is
bad for us then to see them, and it is bad for the dead ones, too,
that we see them. I have been in Los Angeles and San Francisco,
and as far east as New York, and though asked many times I
never allowed any one to make a picture ot me." This superstition
of the Indian is well known, but it is not often an Indian can be
found who will express it as does this young Cocopah. As we
talk further he gives w^onderful expression to the old adage,
"There's no place like home." Our great cities impressed him,
but, said he: "What does all this pomp and glory amount to,
compared with the peace and happiness I find here in my quiet
home by the Colorado River ?" True! I often ask the question
m}self: Have we gained in happiness as we have gained in
material things ?
The following morning our host drives to Yuma with a wagon-
load of cattle hides. The six horses have to strain and tug to
pull their heavy load through the deep sand. Here are the vast
sand-dunes spoken of in the earlier chapters of this book. Great
414 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
/.
<V
o.
On the
line ~
below Pilot Knob
#-
*-,*1
piles, several hundred feet high, stand between the ranch-house
and the lowland of the Colorado River, which is now plainly
visible. In the forenoon we halt in front of the adobe house
of the Mexican customs official. On the high mesa to the left
stands the white granite monument. No.
207, of the boundary line. With great
politeness the Mexican officials shake
hands all around
and ask after our
health. Then to
business, and for
four hours we
stop to watch and
listen to the wrangle that goes on. The custom-house officer
finds it a hard task to convince the ranchero that Mexico not
only expects her citizens to pay duty on the goods they import,
but that she also requires that they do not impoverish the country
by shipping away from it the goods she needs, and to prevent it
she levies a tax upon the export of such goods as hides. This
takes away the good humor of our
host until, after we have driven on, the
meeting of a compadre with a bottle
of American aguardiente seems to
bring back tresh sunshine.
The rest of the journey is along the
bank of the Colorado, with its arrow-
weed, carrizo, mesquite, and willows,
and evening sees us at the old town,
the scene of the labors of Garces
and his co-missionary, the site of
their murder, and that of all the
Spanish officers, former Governor
Rivera among the number. On the
east side of the river on the rocky height stands the Territorial
Penitentiary, overlooking the town, just arousing to meet the new
civilization and welcome it, while on the west side is the Indian
school, occupying the site of the former Fort Yuma.
.^1.
BoziJtdary monument
near Calexico
A Tramp from Yuma to Salton
415
CHAPTER XXIX
A Tramp from Yuma up the Colorado River to Palo Verde,
THEN BY THE ChUCKWALLA TrAIL TO SaLTON
"'i
\<^:-
^..AA.
»4
■-~= -^
-J^'
'r-
^> A
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'-'^
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■^r^
HE sun rose, a blood-red disk, the morning we
left Yuma. Dark clouds hovered over the In-
dian reservation, but it did not keep the inhabit-
ants from awaking. The squaws were lighting
their fires to cook breakfast, the men were hunt-
ing their stock, or waiting until they were called
to eat. Mesquite and palo verde are plentiful
on this reservation, and, being well watered by
the close proximity and frequent floodings of the
river, grow luxuriantly, it being not uncommon to see them
twenty-five and thirty feet high. This is the fuel supply not
only for the Indians, but also for nearly all Yuma.
Leaving the valley, we ascend the mesa, a dark plain strewn
with volcanic rock. In sharp contrast to the yellow sky appears
a saw-toothed range of mountains to the north, the highest of
them. Chimney Peak, — called Ficacho or The Peak by the Mexi-
cans, — standingout with striking boldness. It seems a long distance
away, but we know the way, having walked it some years ago.
As we approach our day's destination quietness reigns in the
mining camp of Picacho, where, two years ago, a large number
of men were employed. Not a soul is to be seen, so, pushing
forward, we walk through the canyon, five more miles, to the town
of Picacho, situated on the west bank of the river. Numbers
of buildings, many of which contain machinery, car tracks for
carrying ore, large water-tanks, etc., give evidence that it has been
the headquarters and shipping place for the mine. The ore was
brought here on a diminutive railroad, and supplies hauled back.
Boats then took it to Yuma, from whence it was shipped on the
Southern Pacific railway. But now, with the exception of a
416 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
few families, the town is deserted. When a mine "shuts down,"
the town dependent upon it is "busted." Saloon-men and gam-
bleis "pull up their stakes," women of the lower world seek fresh
pastures, and all who can "haul their freight" as soon as possible.
The grocery-man would go if he could. However, Picacho
is pretty certain to rise
agam, a s
th(
'shut
Yuma Indian carrying water
down" is said to be ow-
ing only to a change in
management.
The day is dreary,
clouds have been hang-
ing low, and a few flashes
of lightning, breaking
through the dark veil,
suggest the possibility
of rain, so we resolve
to eat and sleep indoors
rather than at an open
camp-fire, if it be pos-
;ibl
siDle.
'A Mexican
woman keeps a boarding-house near to the post-office," we
are told, and, wending our way thither, we are soon at
home, being entertained in true Mexican hospitable fashion.
The landlady tells us of her father who for many years
made the desert his
home. He used to drive
the stage from Los An-
geles to Yuma and Tuc-
son almost for the en- v^sajgsB^- ^ Ywna Indian's pipe
tire span of its history.
In Florence, Arizona, he married a Spanish lady and then
established a home in San Bernardino. We need nothing
further to tell us who he was. Her father was one of the best
known characters of the desert. Hank Brown, who died in
1898. What a varied and dangerous career he had! Said his
daughter: "He once had trouble with the Indians at Mar-
tinez, where we lived for a time in the adobe house of the
A Tramp from Yuma to Salton
•117
stage-station. They planned to kill us all while we were asleep,
but, unknown to them, father had been called away. For-
tunately for us a friendly squaw and her husband came and not
only warned us, but took us away to a cave in the mountains,
where for several days and nights we remained in safety. In
the meantime the attack was made as planned and to the chagrin
of our enemies we were gone. In their fury they burned our house
to the ground. When my father returned he sent for the sheriff
and in the fight which ensued three Indians attacked him. He
was so quick with his revolver, however, that he killed two and
wounded the third. Though arrested he had no difficulty in
getting clear in court.
"He was an active, restless man, and seemed as if his energy
A street in old Yuma
would never give out. But he grew old and one day he said to
me: 'Daughter! I will go out once more to the desert and when
I return it will never see me again. I will settle down in Los
Angeles, and you shall be my housekeeper and we will forget
the desert. ' W ithin a week he was dead. He went to hunt the
Pegleg mine for which he had searched many years. This time
he felt sure he had found it. He made the necessary locations,
drew a map of the region, and completed everything necessary
to make his claim lawful. Then he took the stage back to Los
Angeles, but on the way was seized with sickness and two days
later died of pneumonia. Feeling he would not recover, he gave
a friend the map and transferred the claim to him. No sooner
was he buried than this friend went back to examine the long-
418
The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
looked-for mine, but, suffering intensely from inflammatory rheu-
matism, he scarcely reached the region before he was compelled
to leave. He went to San Diego and died shortly after."
Thus the story of the long-lost mine lives, and we leave Picacho
with the assurance that generations yet to come will send out
men to search for this mythical treasure, the very existence of
which we gravely doubt. This is the tenor of our thoughts as
we walk along by the quietly flowing Colorado. What a river
it is! Silent save for an occasional splash, as a salmon, catfish,
or carp leaps out and falls back again, how different from the
same river in the great canyon above! Soon its waters will
be diverted into channels of usefulness and fertility. The great
plans of the government are well under way and
will convert thousands of acres of now useless soil
into rich and productive farms.
s^?S—
The town of Palo Verde
The second day after leaving Picacho finds us at the small
Mexican settlement of Milpitas, where maize, sugar cane, and
alfalfa show what can be produced on this soil with sufficient
water for irrigation. The river is about 300 feet wide here,
and flows in long serpentine curves, and the far-away mountains,
with their endless rosy crown of peaks, domes, pyramids, and
needles, add that sense of charm and mystery to the scene that
makes it perfect. Near here, lying parallel to the river for twenty-
five miles, is the Laguna, and the land adjoining this' body of
water is the Palo Verde country where new settlements have
sprung up, engaged in cattle raising and mining. The "town" ot
Palo Verde now consists of a post-office and a few houses, but,
if the mines succeed and the irrigation plans that are contemplated
are carried out, it may be that a few years will see this the seat
of a new county. It is connected by stage with the station of
A Tramp from Yuma to Salton 419
Glamys, on the line ot the Southern Pacific, forty miles south-
west.
Here we meet a Mr. Hickey, a pioneer in Arizona of the
early days. He entered the territory when it was in its brightest
and most prosperous condition when mining and prospecting
flourished. At that time there were no railways, and supplies
were brought by ship through the GuU of California, up the
Colorado River to Yuma, where large and long wagon-trains
waited to haul them east to Tucson and to the mines, ranches,
and military posts scattered throughout Arizona and New Mexico.
River steamers also hauled supplies up the Colorado to Ehrenberg
and La Paz, then prosperous mining camps, and here again
teamsters waited to haul them into the interior.
In those strenuous days when hostile Yumas and Apaches
lurked everywhere, ready to murder every white man, woman,
and child as foes to their race and existence, it was a dangerous
business to be a teamster. Not only we're the Indians bad, but
there were Mexicans and white bandits, who hovered as near
to the line as they could and thought nothing of taking life if
thereby they could gain a few dollars.
To recover a few mules stolen and driven over the line, Mr.
Hickey with a friend started in pursuit. They had not gone
many miles into Mexican territory before they were surrounded
by a band of desperadoes. To shoot would have been folly,
for they were both surprised and outnumbered. Mr. Hickey
tried argument, showing how little the bandits would gain by
killing them and the possibility of arousing the United States
government to take a powerful revenge by sweeping them out of
existence. Unfortunately the actions of his friend were such,
he neither understanding the language or character of the Mexi-
cans, that his efforts at diplomacy were spoiled, and the leader
of the gang marched them to a near-by tree and gave them the
choice of death by hanging or being shot. Suddenly Hickey
remembered that he had a letter in his pocket from the governor
of Sonora, containing expressions of good will and offers of assist-
ance to him, and as a last resort he drew It forth and asked the
leader of the bandits to read It. When he did so, fearful of
harming the friend of so powerful an official, the chief bade them
420
The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
North Palo Verde -mining camp
begone, and in a few moments the two friends were riding away,
not daring to look behind, and yet with a creepy feeling running
up and down the spine all the time lest one of the angered robbers
should decide to shoot them in the back. Once out of sight
they put spurs to their horses and did not slacken rein until they
were safe again in Uncle Sam's territory.
The next morning before leaving we visit the schoolhouse.
The teacher, a re-
fined young wom-
an, is but a type
of her kind. She
also is a pioneer,
exactly as are the
men who open the
mines, dig the irrigating ditches, clear the land, and cultivate the
soil. She is an important factor in the development of the coun-
try. In Palo Verde the school was first taught in the shadow of
a large mesquite, then in a brush hut, and now in a rude frame
hut. By and by let us hope it will be in a more pretentious and
suitable building.
The settlers of this new country came from the "inside," as they
designate the territory outside the desert, and they are therefore
familiar with the process
of irrigation upon which .t-'^^^ii&^ieiieifSmii^^^
they here rely. With pump-
ing plants they raise the
water from the Laguna and
distribute it over the land,
though those who live be-
tween the river and the Laguna rely upon the usual overflows of
the river, which generally occur between May and July. As soon
as the ground dries sufficiently they plow and harrow the soil
and then sow their barley and corn. When these crops are
harvested sugar cane is planted in the fall, while In the earlier
season potatoes, peas, beans, melons, chili peppers, and such
vegetables are raised. The winters are mild and the summers
hot, the temperature ranging as high as iio° and 120° Fahrenheit.
Here, then, are conditions analogous to those seen on the Nile.
r- ^Jv
Brush schoolhouse at Palo Verde
A Tramp from Yuma to Salloii
421
Indeed the Colorado River might well be called "the Nile of
America," as the lowlands of the Colorado are equally fertile
with those of its African prototype.
Six miles from Mr. Rickey's ranch we reach the adobe house
of the oldest settler, Mr. McFee, who "took up" his land in 1886.
He keeps bachelor's hall and does his own cooking, washing,
house-cleaning, and chambermaid work, as well as his planting
and reaping. He has located close to the Laguna, which is here
bordered by thousands of trees and dense arrow-weed, etc., thus
affording an excellent retreat for wildcats, raccoons, coyotes,
hawks, and owls. Mr. McFee had just shot a fine specimen of
barn-owl, and was preparing the skin to make a warm nest for
his chicks.
Here we met a
prospector who was
recuperating after
a severe experience
on the desert. He
was prospecting in
the region of the
Chuckwalla Moun-
tains v/ h e n his
burros strayed away, doubtless lured by the wild burros that
are often to be found where there is water. He started off to
hunt for them, but both provisions and water gave out and he was
in dire straits. Then, fortunately, he struck the trail leading to
the McFee ranch, which he no sooner reached than he was
cared for and bade to make himself at home. And, such is the
hospitable spirit of the country, there he will remain until he
has entirely recovered from his arduous trip.
Leaving McFee's we strike out and soon come again to the
river. Meadows of dried grass, which show how heavy is the
growth after a rainfall, dense groves of mesquites, willows, and
Cottonwood, and acres and acres of arrow-weed line the river,
while on the eastern side the sun-brightened mountains are coming
nearer. Here we see the visible remnants of a desert tragedy.
In the heart of a thorny mesquite stands part of an equine skeleton.
Examination shows it to be the head, neck, breast, and front legs
-1-41
McFee's ranch
422
The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
-ef a colt. The head is turned back in the agony of death. Held
by the sharp thorns the poor creature was attacked from behind
by coyotes and his hind quarters literally torn from him and
carried away. All around the bush are to be seen the hoof-
prints of the mare in wild confusion, clearly showing her frantic
but futile efforts to save her offspring from the murderous attack
of the ravenous coyotes. In these mute remains and signs one
can read the whole story. The mare and colt were doubtless
feeding, the little one having strayed some distance away from
its mother. While thus separated, hungry coyotes attacked it,
and in its frantic efforts to escape it plunged headlong into
the mesquite and was unable to extricate itselt. The mare,
hearing its calls of agony, rushed to render assistance, but was
unable to force her way into the brush and drive off the relentless
Ehrenberg
coyotes, and ran around and around in wild, purposeless endeavors
to help. As soon as the coyotes had torn from the quivering
flesh the food they wanted, they fled to their holes. Something
doubtless prevented their return for the remainder of the feast,
hence the remnants we saw.
A little distance farther, and the presence of adobe houses,
brush fences, and a couple of Yuma Indians denotes that we are
opposite the town of Ehrenberg. The two Indians lead the way
to a boat and with long strokes row us over to the Arizona
side where, nearly dead, lies the once active, busy, and bustling
mining camp and shipping point of Ehrenberg. The houses
are empty and tumbling into ruins, all their former inhabitants
gone, with the exception of half a dozen whites and Mexicans.
Back of the town on the hill is a most desolate graveyard — for
a deserted and neglected graveyard is one of the most desolate
A Tramp from Yuma to Salton
4^23
m
Ehrenberg from the Colorado River
places on earth — where irregular stone piles quicken the imagina-
tion until it sees visions of the days of activity, of strong, primitive
passions, of the angry word, the swift blow, the smoke of the
revolver or gun, and the quiet procession to the last resting place
on the hill, while the silently flowing river steadily moves on to
the sea. Many are the sad secrets buried under these shapeless
cairns, — ruined lives,
broken hearts, wasted
powers, demolished
ambitions, — speaking
of the endlessness of the
Passion Plays of poor,
tragic, human life.
Poor Ehrenberg! He
was an accomplished
miner, — the man who
founded the town. He
came to a tragic end. There had been trouble with the In-
dians at Dos Palmas, and one night Ehrenberg was there.
Hearing a noise outside he went to the door to see what it was,
and in the dusk the Indians, taking him for their enemy, fired
and killed him.
On crossing the river again to the western side we are misdi-
rected. But the error turns out to our good fortune, for we take,
instead of the old
"California Stage
Road," a road six
miles south that
leads us to "Old
Brown's ranch." "^
The pioneer
whose name still
clings to the place died several years ago. He was one of the
restless, active spirits who, after wandering about, mining and
prospecting for many years, settled down in these "bottom-
lands" of the Colorado River and began to raise cattle. But
the Mexicans and Indians stole them so continuously that, at
last, in desperation, he "laid for" the robbers and succeeded
Graveyard
at Ehrenberg
424
The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
in killing an Indian who was running off with one of his cattle.
From this time on the old man lived a life of bedevilment and
terror. The Indians sought in every way to kill him, and though
he was able to outwit them, he decided to quit cattle raising.
So he rounded up all the remainder of his herds and "cleaned
them out" at five dollars a head, and then gave himself to the
raising of melons and corn. Away from wife and daughter, who
refused to live with him in this solitary wilderness, the end came,
and he died, as he had long lived, entirely alone.
Near here we come in contact with a very intelligent miner
and prospector who has spent many years on the desert. In the
course of conversation
he asks if I have ever
seen an ibex on the
Colorado Desert. "An
ibex?" I query, in
astonishment. "Never
heard a sug-
Brown's ranch, near the Colorado River
gestion of such a thing." "Well," he replies, "it is a fact that
they are here, although I know the naturalists would laugh and
scoflF at such a statement. While I have never been able to get
near enough to shoot one, I have seen them many a time, and
there is one rancher in the Palo Verde who shot an ibex buck
and I have seen the horns, head, and skin that confirm his state-
ment."
This is remarkable if true, and I express my astonishment
and desire to inquire further into the matter. Later I meet an-
other well-informed prospector and stage-driver, but afflicted
somewhat with the propensity, acquired on the box, of "stuffing"
inquiring friends. His eyes light up and he heartily responds:
A Tramp from Yuma to Saltou
425
Chuckwalla storehouse
"I'm blanked glad you spoke that word. Ibex? Ive seen
them myself more than a dozen times, and I told the story to
men who called me a deit)-cursed old liar, and poked con-
siderable fun at me. They said I didn't know an ibex from
a jack-rabbit. How they got into the desert I don't know.
I can only suppose they broke loose from some show or circus,
but I know they're here as certain
\jr^ ci as my name is Sam Temple."
' ' I find on questioning other men,
many of them perfectly reliable, that
there is a wide-spread idea that the
ibex does roam and climb on the
desert mountains, and the reason
for it is very clear and the explana-
tion equally simple. Young moun-
tain-sheep have horns that grow out rather straight, not at all
unlike those of the ibex, when seen at a distance, and they do not
take on the characteristic curve of the full grown animal until
later. It is these young mountain-sheep, therefore, that are
mistaken for the ibex.
Leaving the river now, with canteen filled, we are soon on the
Chuckwalla road. At night we sleep
on the roadside, w'ith a fine camp-fire
of palo verde wood to keep us warm
through the night. What a lonely road
this is! It is a true desert road. Dip-
ping into a wide valley flanked by blue
mountains, on the far horizon a group
of saw-toothed mountains stand which
seem to remain at the same distance all
day, though we trudge bravely along.
Now we are wading through deep
sand, then on hard gravel, while the surrounding country is
covered with black, igneous rock as if it had recently been
scorched by a fearful fire. There is no animal life in sight,
save an occasional lizard. The signs of death are ever}^vhere
in the bones of horses and cattle, and the dried-up horns
of mountain-sheep. Yonder lies a roughly made pack-saddle
^i
^\it^' ^ -' ,'. -£«
>/>■
■m
Chuckwalla well
42 G The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
"^■ii-'i'
telling its own story of a straying burro, and possibly of the
wandering prospector following on and on to his death.
The noon hour is passed and there is no sign as yet of
the Chuckwalla well. Surely we cannot have passed it. The
road is well marked and we were assured that it would certainly
lead to water, so we push on. Soon a change in the appearance
of the country delights us. It is less barren and desolate. A
trifle of green vegetation appears, to be more common later on;
palo verde trees chopped with an axe are a good sign; and then
a rock-wall and a tumbled-down rock-cabin appear at the foot
of the hill before us, and on our arrival we find a rock-walled well,
half hidden by mes-
quite bushes. This
is the long-desired
Chuckwalla well.
Here there comes
over us the sad-
ness of the desert.
There are times when the des-
ert seems to stir body and soul
to joyful existence which finds ex-
pression in quickened steps and the
lifting of the voice in song — to the
amazement of the lizard and curious horned toad. But over
certain localities there seems to hover the spnit of sadness
and the soul is touched by the somber chords of past events
that are still vibrating in the air. On the low hill, opposite
the well, are two graves, covered with rocks to keep the co-
yotes from getting to the bodies. There are no crosses, no
head-boards, — they are nameless graves. And yet we seem to
know the whole story. The mind instinctively goes back to the
days when wagons were banded together to be prepared for the
attacks of bad Indians and worse white men and Mexicans,
for the legends of the Chuckwalla trail are filled with stories
of surprises, conflicts, and cruel deaths.
Before leaving the well we fill up our canteens to the very
muzzle for forty miles' stretch before us. Forty long, weary,
desolate miles — at least the first large portion ot it is desolate,
Dos Pahnas
A Tiiinip Iruin Yuiiui to Salton 427
and though we draw upon their contents often, the canteens grow
very heavy to the shoulders before that long stretch is over. At
last we rise to the crest of the plateau, and jo}! there before us
rises the blue line of the glorious San Jacinto Mountains, seventy
miles away. As the night sinks, a roadside camp-fire is made
and we sleep the sleep of the healthily weary. No need of an
alarm-clock to awaken us; we are up before the sun and as rapidly
as we can, though it seems slowly enough, we begin to descend
the long mesa, and cross the wide sand-wash that leads us into
the Salton Basin. Sandstone formations of fantastic shape attract
the eye and tell of the power of atmospheric agencies, fierce wind
and sand storms and the dashing of cloudbursts and mountain
torrents. For this is a region where the elements often battle.
It is nothing rare in the rainy season — which is generally in
August or early September if it occurs at all — for a torrential
rainfall to flood this country in a couple of hours and send masses
of water, scouring out gullies and washes, down into the Salton
Sink, there to be evaporated in a few short hours or days.
Soon we reach the approach to Canyon Spring, but it is closed
to us, not by an angel with a flaming sword, but by a dead horse,
whose fly-covered carcass blockades the narrow entrance and
forbids our reaching the water. But our canteens still contain
a little ot the precious fluid, and the dead creature suggests that
perhaps the water has earned its reputation of being arsenical,
as well as bitter and nauseating with alkali. Before night
we reach the tents, cabin, and corral of the Oro Copia Mining
Company where we stop. Eighteen miles away this company
of California capitalists has its mine. Water, almost as precious
as the gold they seek, is piped from this post, and emptied into a
reservoir that holds 28,000 gallons. It is needed not only for
drinking purposes but to work the machinery and to operate
the smelter.
Our canteens hang empty on our shoulders. There is no more
danger of thirst, for in the morning, only a few miles farther on,
are palms rising out of the desert, telling of the presence of an
oasis where there is an abundance of water. It is Dos Palmas,
well-loved spot of desert teamsters and prospectors; the old stage-
station, where two springs supply an abundance of good water
428 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
so that animals and men can drink all they desire without fear.
Without this fine supply of water it seems as if the Chuckwalla
trail, with its long weary miles, could never have been traveled,
for here barrels and canteens for animals and men were filled,
thus assuring the needful supply. A small shack, which serves as
bedroom, parlor, sitting-room, dining-room, kitchen, hall, recep-
tion and smoking room, stands close by the spring, which is
surrounded by beautiful trees, carrizo, grass, and flowers to which
it gives life.
Below us, seven miles distant, is the edge of the wide Salton
Basin, like a blue inland sea at this early hour, but soon, in the
glaring sun, to appear as if of dazzling white marble. There rise
the wooden buildings of the Salt- Works, in this early atmosphere
looking like castles uplifting their proud heads from the level of
the plain. Near by is the railway station whither we shall soon
be hastening. Shall we be glad to reach the depot and find our-
selves on the train whirling again into civilization ? The trip
has been hard, but it has had more than its compensations. We
trudge on through the sand and reach the Salt-Works, which,
however, we will not describe here as they find place elsewhere,
and hope again, some day, to tramp over the Chuckwalla trail.
A mill for making adobe brick
Out to the Brooklyn and Granite Mines -429
CHAPTER XXX
Out to the Brooklyn and Granite Mines
iT was the day after the San Francisco earthquake
that we started. We knew there had been a "shake,"
but it had not penetrated our conceptions that it
was anything serious, so we went off into the soli-
tudes totally unconscious of the gigantic tragedy being
enacted up north.
For about four miles the upward pull is out of the
Salton Basin to the "rim," — the old sea beach, the
level of w^hich can be followed scores of miles in both direc-
tions. Across the valley, on the point below Fig Tree John's, it
has left clearer markings than in any other place. It appears
like a white wall of masonry, and as near as the eye can discern
is on exactly the same level as the beach on this side.
As we approach nearer to the mouth of the canyon a wonderful
object lesson is presented of the way in which Nature is working
to change the condition of things. Millions of tons of gravel,
sand, and silt have poured into the Salton Basin down this canyon,
which is so small as to appear a mere insignificant scratch on the
face of the mountain range w^hen seen from the distance of a
few miles. The nearer we get to the canyon's mouth the larger
are the rocks brought down in the wash. The debris evidently
piled up higher and higher until it w^as making for itself quite a
promontory in the inland sea. Then, either before or after the
evaporation of the waters, a tremendous freshet or flood came
which cut deep into the recent deposits and w ashed them farther
down. The banks of this channel still remain, and in a large
measure they control the flow of the present storm-waters down
Box Canyon. Within the canyon we are at once in a region full
of questionings and surprises. The walls are of a crumbling
clay and sand, with layers of gravel. Side gorges come down
430
The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
on either side into the canyon, which, at this time, is beautiful
with a large and varied flora. About half-way through a dim
trail leads off over the ridge to the south to a water-hole, which
occasionally has been of good service to travelers, h is in an
arroyo known as Sheep Hole Wash, near to two small groups of
palms. From the ridge one gains an idea of the barren desola-
tion of this mountainous region. No words can express it. And
to see the few palms quietly resting in this sheltered nook gives
one a singular sensation. There was no water to be found when
I stood at the bases of the palms, but it is possible that if one
were to dig he could get a small supply.
That night we camped at Sha-
ver's Well, which was sunk in the
"wash "of the canyon by the county
officials. The water is fairly
good and the act of sink-
ing the well is one
that should be emu-
lated by all the desert
counties at conve-
nient intervals along
all the desert roads.
From this resting
place we crossed the
head of C r a w f o r d
Valley into Cotton-
wood Canyon.
This canyon is a pass through the Cottonwood range from
Crawford Valley to Pinto Valley and is about three miles long.
Approaching it from Box Canyon no possible entrance can be
seen, but on nearing it the mouth is found to be nearly a third
of a mile wide. The walls are not very high at the mduth, but
they increase in height and ruggedness the farther one enters.
Almost at the upper end they narrow materially until it is a dis-
tinctive canyon. The bed of the wash is of loose gravel and
is therefore hard to travel, h is a desert canyon, yet owing
to the rains it was full of rich beauty when we went through
it twice in April, 1906. There were the ironwood, the palo
-•.i^
Starting on a trip
Out to the Brooklyn and Granite INIines 43i
verde, and a few mesquite, witli the ever-present creosote bush in
full flower.
When near to Cottonwood Springs — not more than half a
mile away if one were able to go directly over the range — the
road used to make a wide detour around, of some three or four
miles. The county officials were requested to construct a road
over the short route, but with a stupidity that seems incredible,
instead of having the county engineer or surveyor direct the work
and expend enough money to make an easy graded, well-
built road, they put the job into the hands of a local politician
who spent three or four hundred dollars of the county's money in
constructing what the teamsters call a "Chilcoot Pass," and
over which only extra well-equipped wagons can pass. A light
buggy with a good horse can go over with little trouble, but a
two-horse wagon with an ordinary load finds it practically im-
possible. So, in our case, the wagon took the long road around,
while I walked over to the spring. This is a beautiful little
oasis, shut in by hills, and where half a dozen glorious old cotton-
woods, dignified, hoary, and majestic, give gentle seclusion. Close
by, seeping out of the rocks, is a steady though small supply of
water, hence this has become one of the most noted resting
places of the region.
When Van came up wath the burros w^e turned them loose
to browse and then enjoyed getting our supper and sleeping under
the trees.
Early the next morning I walked and climbed alone over the
hills for about four miles east to spy the region over.
It is one wild chaotic upheaval and tumblement of disintegrating
coarse granite. Great masses, of irregular size and shape, thrust
their heads above the general mass, and stand, split, seamed,
creviced, shattered, jagged, and rough and in some cases rounded
by water and weather, in dumb protest against the fierceness of
the desert sun. This is a part of the Colorado Desert. Yet how
diff^erent from any ordinary conception that one has of the desert.
This range is but one of many such ranges, just as if some Giant
Power soaring through the heavens in an air-ship worthy his
power had tumbled out, here and there, at his own irresponsible
will, a mass of rocks to descend and cover the nakedness and
432 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
barrenness below. It is naked and barren, but it is not level
and monotonous. It is rugged and uneven, hills and hollows,
buttes, ridges, hogbacks, canyons, "draws," slopes, and peaks.
There is no order, no system, no clearly defined "backbones." As
far as the eye can reach in every direction it is practically the
same. There are two exceptions, however. To the west there
towers above the near-by ridge the snow-clad jagged summits of
San Jacinto. Then as the eye travels a few miles to the south
the continuation of the range is seen, with a clean indication
of a valley between it and the southern ridge of the range
from which we look. This, of course, is the Salton Basin. We
should know this anyhow, for yonder is the snow-dotted peak
of Santa Rosa, and we know the jagged contour of the San
Jacinto range, which appears as if some rude wood-carpenter
with the crudest tools had tried to chop its summit to something
like uniform height and had made a poor job of it. Here, immedi-
ately before me, for I sit facing a trifle west of south, is a break-
down in the Cottonwood range, and beyond it the Chocolate
range is just beginning to rise in height eastward, so I can see
clear through to the sea-level of the desert, and there is the western
end of the Salton Sea, some five or six miles of it, embosomed
in the heart of the rugged mountains. How blue and smooth
it looks! How out of place in this wild, desert setting! How
anomalous! — a sea in the desert. Right where I sit I can see
the grave of Riley, who perished for want of water. Behind me
I could rudely locate the graves — or piles of bones — that tell
of scores of men who have died horrible deaths for want of a
few spoonfuls of that precious fluid that lies yonder so unconscious
and unconcerned in the distance. What a singular thing life is
anyhow! Why will men leave the side of the lake? What do
they gain by courting death on the desert .? What is it in man
that thrusts him forth into the most dangerous and inhospitable
parts of the earth ? Yonder to my right is the Cottonwood oasis.
Without the few hundred gallons of water which daily flow
into a reservoir built for it, no man could live in this region.
Those few drops of water render life possible. Under the shelter
of the cottonwoods this morning I heard the cough of a consump-
tive. Two brothers are there for a short time. They have just
Out to the Brooklyn and Granite Mines 433
completed the making of a "dry washer," with which they will
seek to shake gold out of the gravel they find in some parts of
these desert hills. They are here seeking both health and money.
A wiser selection of a location for a health-seeker one could
scarcely find. Here, away from cities and the crowded, badly
ventilated, stuffy haunts of men; away from elaborate cooking
which kills far more victims than the disease itself does; sleep-
ing in the sweetest, purest, balmiest, and most healing atmos-
phere of earth, — an atmosphere that after sundown and before
sunrise one can designate only as delicious, — compelling himself
to just enough exercise to stimulate heart and lungs to their
best action, and thus com-
pletely oxygenate the blood,
this is to rationally
compel health.
^U
Reaching the desert
from Cottonwood Canyon
And if the afflicted of the earth would learn the lesson of wisdom
from this man, many of them could win back health and vigor,
power and the ability to "do," that give life its zest to the true
man.
I spoke of this as "desert," and so it is, and yet, at this season
after the winter rains (which, this year, have been more profuse
than usual), what a wonderful assortment of floral riches are
spread out before me! From my elevated seat on this rugged
peak I can scarcely see them. Only the ocatillas in their beautiful
new dress of green, which completely hides (at this distance)
their cruel thorns, flaunting their scarlet or geranium-colored
flower-banners in the air, and the tree yuccas, with the beautiful,
graceful, shining-leafed creosote bush, and also, here and there,
a dwarf ironwood tree, dot the rocky, gravelly ridges, slopes, and
434 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
washes with green. But as you walk it seems that the whole
area is one glorious mass of irregularly and carelessly laid-out
garden; patches, bunches, beds, whole masses of flaming, gor-
geous colors that are exquisitely beautiful, especially when seen
in such surroundings.
And I must not forget the birds. I hear them singing all
around me. Not a great number, but enough to remove the sense
of complete desolation. A few minutes ago a bird flew far
away below me, sweetly singing a bubbling melody as he flew.
There are doves and quail and a species of swallow and several
birds that I cannot distinguish. I have seen this morning two
fair-sized birds with yellow bodies and sweet song, two or three
tiny birds that I take for canyon wrens and numberless hum-
ming-birds.
It was rather late when we left Cottonwood, but we were soon
compensated for our delay in the marvelous display of wild
flowers presented to us in Pinto Valley. I have fully described
this in the chapter on Plant Life. From this valley we ascended
to the Brooklyn Mine, which also is fully described in its own
place.
We then returned to Cottonwood, and through Crawford Valley
to the Brooklyn Mine.
Crawford Valley runs almost east to west. It is practically a
trough, though its length is divided by a ridge, with the San
Bernardino extension on the south, and the Eagle range on the
north. It slopes rapidly (for a valley) from the mountains on
either side, and any rain that falls either seeps into the ground
with great rapidity or flows to the trough in the center, where a
"streak" of trees — ironwood, palo verde, and an occasional
mesquite — suggests moisture. Though some parts of it are well
flowered, others are almost bare, save for the creosote and a few
other of the hardy shrubs and the ever-present ocatilla. There
are no trees whatever on the slopes, and this renders the ocatilla
with its flaunting and gorgeous flowers the most striking object
upon which the eye falls.
The Granite Mine is located in the northwestern end of the
Chuckwalla Mountains, in a deep recess or pocket surrounded
by majestic granite rocks in every stage of disintegration. Seen
Out to the Brooklyn and Granite Mines 435
from a distance they are Imposing, but when one stands under
and near them they loom up portentously and with a grandeur
unspeakable. Weather-worn, wind-carved, and sand-sculptured,
they impress one not only by their massive size but by the gro-
tesqueness of their shape. Here and there peep-holes and natural
bridges have been carved by the elements, and the scenic effects,
as one passes behind these apertures gazing out upon the expanse
of foot-hill, valley, and distant mountains, are remarkable.
San Jacinto Peak
436
Up ^Martinez Canyon 437
CHAPTER XXXI
Up Martinez Canyon, into Coahuilla Valley and back
BY Warner's Ranch and Carrizo Creek
il^¥~B T is a delicious afternoon in May as we leave our desert
}''J!iL-b headquarters at Mecca. We strike out towards the San
•<Si''l U Jacinto Mountains on the south. Their beauty and gran-
■1$, deur grow more impressive as the shadows of evening
n^ fall upon them, the tops receiving their nightly bath of
liquid, rosy light. A wide green wilderness of mesquite
g,^^ lies between the cultivated soil w^e are leaving and the
foot of the mountains, and in this tangle hide the Indian
villages of the Torres reservation.
We spend the night near the Martinez schoolhouse, where
plows, harrows, and cultivators for the use of the Indians
make one feel he would like to be an Indian, for all these are
provided for their use by a paternal government. Early the next
morning we enter the broad sand-wash that leads into Martinez
Canyon, so called from the village we have just left. Gradually
the wash narrows and the sand becomes more and more damp
until we come to a muddy stream, a few inches wide, w hich grows
larger and clearer the higher we rise. \\ hen we reach the rocky
slopes it is a good sized creek and soon it develops into a moun-
tain stream, swift and powerful enough to give our burros consid-
erable uneasiness every time we have to cross it. Again and
again we cross, climbing higher at each zigzag, until at last we
reach a place where the canyon opens out into a little flat where
we find a rough stone open-air fireplace. At once we unpack
and camp. A geological survey bench-mark tells us the elevation
is 2,580 feet. It is an ideal camping place, the murmuring brook
close by, and the mouth of a canyon named Tauquitch a few stone-
throws away, while in the canyon above there is a veritable tropical
438 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
garden of cactus, many of them in full bloom. Here are the
ocatillas — St. Joseph's candles — tipped with their carmine
flowers in all their gorgeous splendor, while the Tucca whippleii'
and scores of Opiintias and Echinocactuses with the "candles"
add splendor of color and daintiness of design.
The moon rises and adds its mellow light to the charms of this
desert and mountain Eden, for, from the ridge near by we see that
we are yet quite within the borders of the desert. The mocking-
bird sings its notes of overflowing joy and the cicadas drum their
cheery notes until long after we are asleep.
While the morning is still crisp and sharp we are up and ofi^,
our burros securely packed for the steep climb ahead. We soon
In the
Martinez
i"*^: sand-
ivash
say farewell to the canyon, for our trail sharply turns upon itself,
indicating that instead of more crossings of the stream we must
now ascend and cross a "hogback." Up we go, higher and higher,
and as we ascend the views, both of mountain before us and
desert behind, grow more magnificent. We are so near that the
desert is absolutely at our feet, and there, spread out beyond, is
the dark mirror of the Salton Sea, a rich blue in the early morning
light. For a few moments we forget we are in the desert. We
are on the mountains overlooking the Pacific near Santa Barbara
and this is a stretch of that placid ocean. It cannot be that we
are in the desert! Yet farther glances reveal the well-know^n
landmarks and we come back to the fact that the water of the
Up Martinez Canyon
439
Salton Sea has transformed the scenery and made a new place
of it when we see it from this elevated standpoint.
Soon we are on the summit and there we are favored with a
close view of snow-capped San Jacinto peak. The white snow
seems almost to swim in the air, so blue is the atmosphere, and so
ethereal the blue of the body of the jnountain. Only a moment
or two are we here, then we dip down again, the trail leading us
down the steep mountainside into the gulch below.
Wild cactus on the Martinez trail
What a deceptive thing a mountain trail is! IIow it plays
hide-and-seek with you! Like the thimble of the "thimble-
riggers" now you see it and then again you don't. Surely if we
knew all about the deities of the Greek mountaineer we should
find one especially devoted to mountain trails. He would be a
bright, chuckling little fellow, full of fun and frolic and bent on
having his humor on prospectors, herdsmen, and other followers
of the trail, leading them into all kinds of mazes, then showing
glorious vistas ahead, raising hopes and expectations of abundant
pasture, easy traveling, eool shades, and the like, only to speedily
440 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
dash them to pieces by the stern reaUties of rough and rugged
mountain slopes.
At last, however, we are on the top of an elevated mesa. As
we cross it the shadows creep over the table-land. Suddenly,
almost in an instant, without any suggestion, a peculiar turn
of the trail brings us to the very edge, and, as we look off we cannot
keep back the cry of admiration that bursts out at what is spread
out before us. It is the desert again, but from this elevation
it seems like the level bed of a dry sea reaching up to the feet
of the mighty, blue mountains, whose long, massive columns
of shadows advance from all directions and slowly descend into
A view of
the desert
from the " ^«n ^
ridge above
Rock House Canyon
the barren waste. Silent and still the desert lies like a giant
monster asleep. Its breath rises as a vapor and hangs over its
gray, ominous body. With the sinking sun the mountains take
on the hue of purple. The deep gulches, canyons, and recesses
change their deep blue until it seems black, and soon the whole
range is wrapped in the somber garments of night. The stars
begin to shine. A loud cry is answered by an echo several seconds
afterwards, and we are about to shout again, when another and
fainter echo falls down as a gentle benediction breathed from
the very summits of the mountains. Then the moon arises and
sleep falls, the bringer of rest and peace.
We are awakened while the stars are still shining by the tinkling
of the bell on "Babe's" neck. What is she after? With the
Up Martinez Canyon 441
craft and cunning of the burro she seeks, while we sleep, to forage
on her own account and get at the sack of oats. But we know
it is securely hidden, so we leave her to her own devices and sleep
on again.
If our purpose on this trip had been to find the most tortuous
stream with the greatest number of awkward crossings, the steep-
est trails, the roughest paths, verily we have so far succeeded
admirably. But we are to have further tests this morning.
We descend from the mesa into Rock House Canyon, and on
our arrival feel like taking off our hats to our faithful burros.
Down the steep and slippery trail, in places seemingly only a
few inches wide, where a misstep meant certain death, and where
every now and again we either looked in expectation that they
would tall, or in horror turned away and waited to hear the
crash as they struck the cruel rocks below, — it certainly was
a triumph ot careful footing when they landed their packs in
safety at the bottom.
From above, the valley appeared to be smooth. Now we find
it to be the rockiest country w^e were ever in. Hour after hour
we wander along over rocks, around rocks, under rocks, never
tree from them for a single moment. At noon we reach a deserted
Indian kish. Where are the owners ? We find a collection of
ollas partly filled with acorns or water, and there are mortars,
pestles, metates, and grinding stones. Outside is a big stone
pile or oven {na-chish-em), where the squaws have roasted their
mescal. This is made from the shoots of the agave, which grows
here profusely. There is but one species in this region, the A.
deserti. Its leaves are densely clustered, thick, and deeply con-
cave, and are from six to twelve inches long. When they first
spring up they appear in little round heads or cabbages. Each
year the heads enlarge, throwing out fibrous leaves armed with
a spine at the point. It takes from ten to twenty years, even In
the heated air of the desert, before the period of flowering is
reached. Then suddenly a stalk appears from the center of
the plant, grows with great rapidity, and is crowned with a long
cluster of pale yellow blossoms which hang like beautiful bells,
swinging in the breeze.
In the early spring the cabbages begin to be full of sap, and from
442
The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
the middle of April on the work of preparing the mescal begins.
Pits are dug in the earth or sand, lined with rocks and then filled
with fire. This is kept up until the rocks are thoroughly heated,
when the agave heads are placed in the pit and covered with
grass and earth and left to roast for two or three days. When
cooked they consist of fibrous layers, sweet and delicious and
full of nutrition. The ends of the young shoots also are taken
and, after being thoroughly crushed or beaten out on flat rocks,
are made into sheets about two and a half feet long and a foot
broad, and then roasted in the pits in the same way as the heads.
I have eaten the agave prepared both ways and of course the
former is much the more tender and nutritious.
A glimpse of the Saltan Sea from the Martinez trail
It is no easy matter to keep the trail in a sea of rocks such as
we find here. We lose the trail and have to search long before
finding it again. The burros, too, are troublesome where a
trail is not well defined.
A stone house, the ruins of which we pass, gives this canyon its
name. Rock House Canyon. A little brush shack, built close up
to a boulder, suggests that the builder had the desire to dwell
under the shadow of a "mighty rock in a weary land."
We are aiming for the Indian village of Santa Rosa, perched
high on the mountain of the same name. The peak is ever
before us, 8,046 feet high, but the cloudbursts and heavy rains
have so washed out the trail that in places it has become a deep
ditch, and in others has disappeared entirely. Just at this critical
Up INTartinez Canyon
443
time one of our burros slips and falls. In a moment all hands
are at work readjusting the pack. Our map — one of the U. S.
Geological Survey sections — is put down in the hurry on a
convenient rock. One of the other burros, seeing the map,
proceeds forthwith to eat it, and when the pack is replaced we
find to our dismay that, just as we need it the most, it has almost
entirely gone. As we struggle on we find how great is our loss.
Cattle recently have been over the trail and completed the work
of obliteration and confusion, so it is not surprising that we miss
the trail to Santa Rosa and lose considerable time further on.
But night finds us happy and jolly in a first-class camping
place, where, under the shade of a yellow pine, we watch the
setting sun as it pours its stream of golden light over the dark
green c h a p a r r a 1 and
the ever-aspiring pines.
A pure stream of snow-
water from Santa Rosa
gives added pleasure,
and affords us a good
cold bath in the early
morning.
Soon after starting
we find a wagon-road
that leads through a
long valley from the Garnet Queen Mine to Vandeventer Flat
and the ranch of the same name. Here we give the burros a good
rest and as fine pastaie as the country affords, while we enjoy
the hospitality of the jolly owner of the ranch, "Charley" Vande-
venter, and a sturdy ranger, Joe Sherman by name. Mr. Vande-
venter tells us of the days when the Indians lived by the hundreds
in the nearby valleys. But as civilization has crept closer to
them they have mostly disappeared, smallpox and consumption
having aided the vices of the white man in furthering their anni-
hilation. With fiddle and accordion, tales of mountain lions,
wildcats, and skunks, of deer and mountain-sheep, and their
destruction by pot-hunters, we pass a pleasant evening, an agree-
able change from our ordinary camp-fire evenings.
In the morning we start in a cold dense fog which soon wets
The Vandeventer ranch
o
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H
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W
O
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C/3
W
o
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o
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444
Up ]Martinez Canyon
445
us to the skin from top to toe. We have to cross several creeks,
so we wade right along. Down we descend, a thousand feet,
into the Coahuilla Valley. It is a long, broad valley in which
many hundreds of cattle are grazing on the rich feed, and they
watch us with that never-quenched look ot surprise as we pass
along. At last we are walking in a lane between two barbed-
wire fences, which denote the boundaries of a ranch owned by
two negroes, the brothers Hamilton, who are reported the owners
of fine land and much stock.
We turn to the north and find ourselves in Durazno Valley, —
the valley of the peach, — in which many Indians live. Beyond
the Indians' kis/ies is the Clarke ranch where we are heartily
welcomed by our old friend. Hardy, a prospector and miner,
The main street at Agim Caliente, Warner's Ranch
who, in the old days, used to drive stage from Tucson to Yuma
and San Diego. While we dry our clothes — robed in a blanket
and a smile the while — he prepares a hearty and tasty supper,
to which we do full justice in our negligee costumes.
Clarke and Hardy have found this a great bee country. They
have over three hundred stands, and the honey is rich and of
delicate flavor and therefore commands a high price.
Our start next morning is in distinct contrast to that of yester-
day morning, for the sun shines bright and clear through an
atmosphere as healthful and bracing as one could desire. We
pass through valleys and over hills, and through dense masses of
chaparral into Oak Grove Valley where waving fields of barley
and oats give evidence of well-cultivated and fertile soil. Very
interesting is the long, low building shadowed by hoary live-oak
trees. It is the Wentworth ranch-house, where the soldiers of
the Army of the West rested on their journey from Santa Fe to
446 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
Old stage- station at Warner
the conquest of California. Later it became a stage-station,
wayside inn, posting place, and hospital where those who had
broken down in crossing the weary stretches of the desert could
stop and recuperate. And as we sit we see a picture which was
made here not long ago. It is of the evicted Indians of Warner's
Ranch, on their way to their new home at Pala, as wicked and
monstrous an eviction,
even though sanc-
tioned by the United
States Supreme
Court, as ever
occurred in
- history, only
relieved by
the fact that
Commissioner
W. A. Jones obtained from Congress a grant of $100,000 to se-
cure for the poor homeless ones a new home.
What a glorious vista these old oaks make as we journey on to
Warner's Ranch! Thousands and thousands of fat cattle roam
the great ranch, now a veritable paradise for cattle after the copious
rains of spring. At length, as we are growing weary, we spy the
adobe houses of the village of Agua Caliente (from which the In-
dians were evicted), we pass the for-
lorn and deserted church in which, in
happier days, we have worshiped
with the Indians. It is now in use
as a hay barn. The houses have
all been renovated and white people
are occupying the homes in which
we have visited our Indian friends
many a time. The whites have
come to rest and recuperate and use the baths of hot water from
which the village obtained its Spanish and Indian names, respec-
tirely Agua Caliente and Palatingiva. The water, at a tempera-
ture of about 160° Fahrenheit, bubbles out from between the
rocks a short distance above the village.
Here is the road leading over to the old Warner ranch-house.
San Felipe River
Up Martinez Canyon 447
three miles away. This is one of the best-known and historic
spots of early-day California. For many years it was the mecca
of all comers to the Golden State by way of Yuma, even the stage
road to Los Angeles passing this way. It was the first real
valley of plenty after the sandy wastes of Texas, New Mexico,
Nevada, and Arizona, and here travelers could stop and recuperate
their own exhausted energies and those of their beasts.
Warner received the ranch as a grant from the Mexican gov-
ernment, and had been long in possession when Kearney passed
through in 1846. For many years the Indians gave him no
trouble, but in 1857 a hostile band of three hundred Coahuillas
attacked him at his ranch. Having received warning of the ex-
pected raid he had removed his family, but personally remained
to give the Indians a warm reception. He had several horses
Ruins of Carrizo stage-station ^
saddled and ready for instant flight, and loaded weapons prepared
to ward off the attack. When the Indians came he stepped to the
rear to gain his horses, and found them all gone but one, and an
Indian untying that. As he appeared a shower of arrows fell
around him, but he succeeded in shooting the thieving Indian
and three others. In the confusion that followed he was able to
get away, taking with him on the same horse a crip[ ltd mulatto
boy who had been sent by a friend to regain heahh from the hot
springs. At Santa Isabel he found his vaqueros. and heading
them, returned to see if the Indians could be checked in their
work of devastation. But his men were not to be relied upon, so
Warner w^as compelled to abandon his store, in which he had six
thousand dollars' worth of merchandise, and retire to San Diego.
It is now the intention to make a popular resort of the Hot
Springs, and already steps are taken to that end
448 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
We now enter the San Felipe Valley, which in shape appears
to be something like a triangle with blunted vertices. The long
side is toward the desert and at its end is the broad expanse of
the San Felipe ranch. The old adobe stage-station has dis-
appeared and in its place a modern ranch-house stands. About
three miles away the San Felipe Creek, or river, has its rise. It
flows between narrow walls for a distance of about eight miles,
and is then swallowed up by the heated sands of the desert. The
road seems to be endless to our gaze. It stretches on and on,
now rising, now sinking, now crowded by hills, then opening
out wide, but we see no pass. The road is cut across by many
barrancas, deep gullies washed out by the heavy rains, and they
compel us to take many extra steps to go around them.
At Vallecita the ruins of the old stage-station remind us again of
the days when this was a trans-
continental highway of travel.
A few yards farther on we come
to a trough filled with running
water. A painted sign reads:
THIS WATER IS FREE.
OTHERS ARE KIND TO YOU,
BE KIND THEN TO OTHERS
BEHIND YOU.
LEAVE THIS TROUGH
FULL."
J. -V
General Cooke's Pass
Anxious to push ahead we water our burros, fill our canteens
and follow the sand-wash until the setting sun calls us to a halt.
So we stop and make a "dry" camp. Next morning the air feels
sultry and oppressive and it doubtless makes the sidewinder
(Crotalus cerastes), which we catch sight of within six inches of
the trail, too drowsy to resent our presence. We kill him, not
because he injures us, but on the broad general principle that
it is well to reduce the number of such venomous reptiles, and
pass on to Palm Springs. This is not our Palm Springs, but a
namesake which has no palms and very little water. Had we
Up ^Martinez Canyon 449
kept the road we might have gone by without noticing it, but the
deep washouts caused by the rain compel us to take higher ground
where we see the road leading over the hill to the spring. It is a
spot of fresh green amongst mesquite and arrow-weed, wrested
from the alkali and made into an alfalfa patch. There is a little
orchard of peach trees, a row of grape-vines, a little barley field,
a few chicken houses, and a tent all sheltered by a three-cornered
limestone peak. The owmer is a kind-faced, sturdy German
who tries to make a living where Nature is not kindly disposed to
his efforts. When he came to take it up as a homestead he had
two good horses and a new Studebaker wagon. One of his horses
fell and cut his flanks open on cruel and jagged rocks. He re-
' covered only to die of starvation, for there was not enough pas-
turage to keep the animals alive. The owner planted barley
and it came up well, but he was compelled to go to the nearest
ranch to find feed for the immediate needs of his animals. Imagine
his feelings on his return to discover what seemed to be all the
wild and stray burros of the desert in his barley, and not a
single stem left standing. They had cleaned it off clear to the
ground, and he was helpless, for even in anger one could scarcely
condemn the burros.
We follow down the sand-wash until the dark green of the car-
rizo, or reed, appears, and we know we are on Carrizo Creek.
The road skirts a hill, and on its crest we find a sign that reads
"104 miles to Yuma, 39 miles to water." We are at the old
stage-station. There is only a small part of one wall left. Every-
thing else has gone. Mosquitoes pester us, and horseflies torment
the burros, and the discomfort is kept up after we are in our blankets,
so that we do not sleep as well as usual, until a cold breeze to-
ward morning drives them away. We need not have been sur-
prised to find, on awakening, that our burros were gone. It
takes one of us four hours to trail and bring them back, so that
breakfast is later than usual. As we roll up our blankets a full-
grown scorpion crawls from under them, the first and only occur-
rence of the kind for many long months.
It does not take us long to leave Carrizo Creek, and now we are
again in the desert proper. Since we left San Felipe Valley we
have practically traversed nothing but desert, but it was not like
450
The AVonders of the Colorado Desert
this. Here it is the real thing, stretching out in barren gauntness,
shimmering and glowing in the fierce rays of the sun.
Soon the desert greets us, in her warm and unmistakable
fashion, with a sand-storm. This is bad, for in the direction we
are going it is nearly fifty miles to water. We let our burros
drink their fill, and poured into our three canteens every drop
they would hold before leaving Carrizo, but we did not figure
on a sand-storm which will make burros and ourselves extra thirsty.
We only hope it will not obliterate our landmarks. Fortunately
it soon blows over. The wagon-road makes a wide detour and
one of us — the tenderfoot — suggests that we "cut across."
We are willing to give him the experience, yet, afterwards, we
wish we had kept the road. For as we cross the open country
we find it honeycombed with squirrel and other holes and so
washed out that the
burros are afraid to
tread lest they sink
in and fall. Several
times this happens,
so that all our urg-
ings fail to make
them go any quicker
than their cautious
natures allow. The night comes and we are still "cutting across,"
so we make a dry camp in the hope of doing better to-morrow.
When morning dawns we start along, not much more briskly
than yesterday, for the country is still unsafe for quick traveling
and our burros are very tired. Yet we find a compensation in
the color displays the desert makes for our gratification. The
plain appears to be of purple, carmine, and golden-fire. Brightly
colored hills rise before us and glorify the barren path we must
take. Even the wearisome sand is painted in most glowing
colors. Now we come to a space studded with irregular pebbles
from the size of a walnut to larger than a hen's egg. Every
color in nature is here represented in stone. There are red,
gray, and mottled granite pebbles, jaspers, green serpentine,
chalcedony, agate, hyalite, gneiss, gypsum, fluor-spar, obsidian,
and many other hard stones and semi-precious gems. Though
Sand sculptures
on the desert
W^i^r-
Up Martinez Canyon
4.n
pleasing to the eye this area is exceedingly hard to walk on and
our poor burros find it as painful and difficult as we do ourselves.
A little farther on are a number of dumb-bell forms and then
we come to a limestone formation looking like white cauliflowers,
which tells us that here is the limit of the prehistoric fresh-water
lake elsewhere fully described. Several hours are taken to cross
this field of wonders and then, suddenly, we find ourselves on
the edge ot a deep barranca with precipitous sides down which
there is no possibility of descent. It takes us a long time to find
even a passable way to get down and an equally long time to get
out. Then, to our intense disgust and greater weariness, we
discover that we are in a stretch of barrancas. Some of them
are thirty feet deep and twice that in width. The sweet-sounding
Spanish name does not take off
one particle of the disgust or the
weariness. One goes ahead to
hunt out the best passageway
and the other follows with the
burros. We are about to give up
tor the day and make camp when
a glad shout announces that the
wagon-road is again found. That
part of our journey is at an end
and almost before we are aware
we are gazing upon the blue wa-
ters of the Salton Sea, rippled by
the winds of the late atternoon. Before making camp we slay
another sidewinder, and moving on to a far enough distance
for at least half-forgetfulness make camp. The burros enjoy the
water inside and out as much as we do. We strip and take a
swim, and how delicious it is after our long and waterless journey!
Stretched out in our blankets we enjoy the setting of the sun
and the rising of the moon, shedding its primrose light over the
gently dancing waves. The noise from these lulls us to sleep
better than the sweetest music.
Refreshed and renewed we take the wagon-road in the morning,
and as we skirt the mountain's point look up to the old beach
which, clear and distinct, lines the mountain above us. As we
Dos Alamos
452 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
gaze upon it and then look toward the desert sea we cannot help
the queries which force themselves upon us as we think how it has
slowly crept up, inch by inch, during the past months: "Will
this new sea take the place of the old ? If so what will become
of the works of man in this valley ? " Fortunately we are not
required to give an immediate answer. Our hope is strong that
the work now being done to prevent the further rise of the sea will
be successful.
Soon we pass the little alkali springs called Fish Springs. The
sea had quenched our thirst, or how glad we should be to drink
of these bitter and salty waters. This used to be the first water
after leaving Carrizo, and many a man has thanked God even for
so poor a supply ot so poor a quality, for without it he most as-
suredly would have died.
Eight miles farther and we are at Fig Tree John's. Rude
fences appear and an Indian kish. A post bears a written notice
under glass and framed, the ink now almost washed out by the
rains:
"This ranch belongs to Juan Jack Bonito, and has been owned
by his ancestors for many years.
(Signed) Juan Jack Bonito,
January, 1901."
Juan is shrewd. He has a son who is well educated, and the
two have decided that it is far better to forestall the selfish white
man than fight him when he has filed on and taken possession
of their land.
White rumor does not speak kindly of John, but everybody
knows that Rumor is a slanderer and liar. It says that he has
robbed emigrants of their horses and provisions, and even their
lives have been charged up to him. The only foundation for
these iinjust and cruel charges is that he has cared for (and per-
haps used) the animals of desert parties that have strayed away
and come to his place for food and water.
Just two weeks from the time we started the cottonwoods
of Mecca appear in sight, and though tired and weary after our
tramp we are richer in desert knowledge and experiences.
Through ]Mcsqiiite Land
4.33
CHAPTER XXXII
Through Mesquite Land
' HEN spring comes and the
happy note of the quail re-
sounds in the valley, and the low,
plaintive call of the wild dove is
echoed from tree to tree, the Land of
the Mesquite calls and we long to be in
its embrace.
Where is this Mescjuite Land, and
what constitutes its charm ? It is hard to tell to another the
subtle sensations that compel one to affection, yet it seems that
no one could see Mesquite Land in spring and not be enchanted
by it. It is not a large country. It is merely the name we have
given to that part of the Coachella Valley in the Colorado Desert
that lies near the base of the Sierra San Jacinto. Properly the
name might cover an immense region where the mesquite
abounds, reaching south to the mouth of the Colorado River,
north to the center of Nevada, and east into Apache Land.
In the very heart of Mesquite Land are the Indian villages of
Torres, Martinez, Agua Dulce, and Alamos Bonitos. Many
a mile have we tramped to and fro among the ktshes and satnats of
these people. Torres is completely hidden in a dense thicket
of mesquites. A lane of sturdy old trees, massive and gnarled
like veteran oaks, leads us to a little adobe hut. We almost pass
by ere we notice the form of a man inside, lying on the ground,
a woman sitting by his side. We have come to the death-bed
of one of the oldest of the Torres Indians, one who for many
years has been chief of his people. The dying man speaks a
little English, and as soon as he feels our sincere sympathy he
opens his heart and speaks with touching sadness of his life. He
tells of his people's coming here, in the long ago, and how, ever
454
The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
since he can remember, he has helped their descendants in their
sickness and want, and rejoiced with them in their joys. " But
now," he bursts forth, "all of them have left me, all! all! All
have left me to die alone! Only my poor old wife remains with
me. When I am dead they will cry and wail, but what will it
matter .? "
A week later a funeral takes place, and a sad old woman remains
alone. There is a large funeral. Indians come from all parts
of Mesquite Land and there is much show of lamenting and
woe, but "what does it matter.?"
Many deeply worn trails lead us from one mesquite thicket to
another, and many a mile of fence is built by the Indians from
its trunks and branches. The framework of many a samat is
^^
''Tr; • ■ ' ■'■■ -■
^iMNtifi^
4^i^.^\_-/^
Near Indian Well
-^4
constructed of it, so that it affords homes and shelter against the
sun and rain. In scores of places there is no pretense at building
a framework. The tree is taken as it stands, the lower limbs
lopped off to suit the convenience of the family, a few additional
posts put in and the spaces filled up with brush, tules, arrow-
weed, and willows, and thus a primitive and reasonably permanent
home is made.
Leaving Indio we are soon on the sandy road leading to Palm
Springs. The feet of men and animals sink deeply and walking
is hard. To the right and left of us are immense sand-dunes,
looking like the white graves of men's ambitions. Here and there
are mesquites completely buried in the sand, which has blown
and drifted around them until nothing but the new shoots appear.
To see these great balls of sand rise from the desert floor, bursting
into rich foliage, is one of the always delightful surprises of the
desert.
Through ]N[cs(]iiite Land
455
Here and there our eyes fall upon pieces of broken pottery,
and the farther we eo the more we see. If the casual traveler
should become interested and seek more he might make a rich
strike and find a whole bowl or olla buried in the sand long ago
and now uncovered by the winds. Or he will probably pick up
a few arrow-heads made of flint or obsidian, clearly telling of the
days when the Indians hunted the deer, antelope, mountain-
sheep and other game in Mesquite Land with their primitive
bows and arrows.
Here we are at Indian Well. It is a square, boarded-up well,
with rope and buckets all
complete, standing as one of
the old landmarks on the old
desert road, surrounded by
hills covered with green mes-
quite.
Back of the road, on the
south, a rotunda of saw-
toothed mountains beckons to
us. An old Indian had told
us that there are caves in
these low mountains in which
the skeletons of men and
women are to be found and
that a great Indian village
used to lie between them and
the water of the prehistoric
inland sea. We hunt around
but can find neither caves nor
skeletons. Only the broken pottery and arrow-heads speak of
occupation in the past. The Indians believe the whole region to
be haunted. They claim that in the night-time if a man dares to
w-alk here a peculiar light will follow him, and he will hear voices
singing and talking, but no human presence can be discovered. It
is a lonely region and when night falls upon us, in spite of our
disbelief in the stories of the Indians, we cannot deny that we
are impressed by the spirit of loneliness which seems to possess
it. Even the well, standing on the roadside, ready to cheer
In
Cathedral
Canyon
456 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
man and beast with its vivifying v^^ater, takes on the appearance
of a scaffold, and we shudder in spite of ourselves.
When our camp-fire is lit and the brilliant gleams shoot out
into the gloom we begin to feel more cheery. What scores of
meetings have taken place at this old well! Prospector has met
home-seeker, and miner has greeted cattle-man, the one going
"inside" for a vacation, the other coming into the desert to find
a place whereon to settle. Nomad here meets nomad, and
around the camp-fire, with pipe alight, questions are asked
and answered which make the next day's travel less uncertain
and wearisome.
The night passes, we sleep the sleep of the tired and healthy,
and when the new morning dawns we forget all sadness, all
gloom, and push cheerfully on our way to Deep Canyon. Out
of the gray desert rise the white sand-dunes, made cheerful by
persistently green mesquites, and erelong we enter a lane lined
on both sides with the thorny trees and completely arched over,
so that for a few minutes it seems a joke to speak of being on the
desert. We are in a fairy bower of exquisite grace and delicate
beauty, for there is no tree that has more beautiful leaves than
the mesquite, and as they stand out against the clear sky they
seem like the delicate tracings of some new and rich pattern of
lace. When we emerge the monotonous range of mountains is
before us, the outlines seeming to repeat themselves again and
again. Here are numbers of long spurs thrust out into the desert
making an equal number of "bays," and into one of these we
enter, this being the large mouth of the narrow canyon we seek.
We travel several weary miles through yielding sand where there
is no sign of verdure, ere there is any suggestion offered of the
beautiful mysteries that are in store for us. A bluish rosy light now
envelops the inner circle of the mountains which here assume
distinct and particularly picturesque forms. There are high
peaks and the rich purple and vividly black shadows that tell of
deep canyon recesses. Slowly the sandy and barren waste gives
place to a growth of plant life, and the shrubs and trees take on
richer and deeper greens as we travel along. Hitherto there has
been no sign of water, but, suddenly, the burros prick up their
ears and push eagerly along. They hear the sound of water, and
Through ]Mcs(|uite Land
457
it is an incitement to rapid travel that no stick or human per-
suasion can equal. We are soon by the side of a little stream
which emerges from the canyon before us. Crossing and recross-
ing, it increases in volume the higher we advance. Now we are
actually in the canyon and the stream grows as the waters pour
in from side canyons to the
right and left. Through fields
of chollas, ivory-like but full of
cruel thorns, and over
rough rocky trails we "^^^^CN^n^Bfr^S^X
wend our way until at
Cave-dwelling of Indians, Andreas Canyon
last we stop at the very gate of Deep Canyon itself. Here we
unpack our burros and after lunch take time to admire the won-
derful gateway before us. To the left the mountain wall stands
almost perpendicular to a height of several hundred feet. The
rocks of which it is formed are twisted all out of their original
458
The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
stratified condition. They are flexed and curved and then set
upon edge again, making folds as wonderful as the great Wheeler
fold of the Grand Canyon of the Colorado River. What mighty
upheavals or slow, resistless molding of the rocks this region
has been subject to!
No need to urge us to face the difficulties of this canyon. We
are eager to see more. So, after
we are well rested, we start on,
leaving our burros behind.
And the canyon itself! Who
can describe it ? A few hours
ago we were on the barren, dry,
featureless sands of the desert.
Now we are between walls fully
a thousand feet high, wrinkled
and scarred with deep gashes,
where a roaring stream pours
down its waters with a life and
sparkle that three hours ago
would have seemed impossible
and incredible. High up on the
walls clusters of green appear
against the pure turquoise of
the sky. What are those sus-
pended pictures, hanging in
weird, mysterious beauty in this
hidden desert canyon ?
A fresh glimpse as we come
to a new angle reveals them as palms! Giant palms either climb-
ing out of the canyon to get more into the sunlight, or seeking to
reach the water below. How do they sustain life up there ? Are
water and soil upon those rocky shelves .? There must be something
to feed the desert giants, for they are healthy, strong, and vigorous.
Now as we progress it is one constant crossing and recrossing
of the madly dashing torrent, which rushes over rocks, and rolls
the boulders along and then springs gleefully down the cascades
into glistening and sparkling pools. Here we are on a narrow
ledge of rock twenty feet high. The foothold is slender and
In Chapel Canyon
Through ]\Ies(|uite Land
459
precarious, but it is all there is, so we hold our breath and walk
carefully along. We make it in safety and are soon crossing
the stream again, springing from rock to rock where a mis-step
would give us a sudden hath and perhaps a rough shake up in the
swiftly running water.
Another climb and we are standing
before a cascade, about thirty feet high,
which, like a corkscrew, has bored its way
into the rock so that its course cannot be
followed by the eye from where we stand.
Nature here seems to guard her mysteries
of grace and beauty with jealous care, for,
on our first glances, we can find no way
to progress farther in this narrow gorge.
The walls are almost vertical, and it seems
hopeless to expect to find any place where
they can be scaled to pass this
waterfall. But our wills as well as
our bodies are strong, and we hunt
until we find a precarious foot-path
up which we ascend.
The dash and roar of the w^ater is
ever in our ears, but suddenly, as we
make a sharp turn, a new and dom-
inant voice greets us, more power-
ful than the many-voiced and noisy
stream at our feet. A thin film of Deep Canyon
spray, too, floats like diamond mist
in our faces, and we hurry forward to see what we are to see.
Another corner, and behold, a wonder of glory and beauty is be-
fore us! On the right stands a stately palm, and on the left, from
the height of about sixty feet, a silvery spray of dancing and fall-
ing water-pearls rains down upon smoothly polished rocks and
then leaps off" on to the palm and the boulders beneath. We are
hushed into silence. In the presence of such Beauty man should
be reverent. The glistening sun kisses the mist into a rosy blush,
and we see a fairy dance of sparkling gems assuming every curve
and sweep that grace and beauty could desire.
460
The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
This is not all! Filled with the tender exquisiteness of it and
gazing as if we could never be filled, suddenly a companion points
in another direction. Gazing thitherward we see a stream of
water falling from the dizzy heights above, — a waterfall a
thousand feet in height. In a moment the name "Yosemite! "
flashes into the mind. It is only a memory, not a comparison,
for the silvery thread here cannot be compared with the volume of
water that thunders down in the great valley, but here, as there,
the water brings its message of Life and Beauty from the high
mountain peaks beyond to the desert valley below. In the
Yosemite, however, the dark green of the foliage and the purity of
the granite are enfolded in a veil
of blue atmosphere that enhances
their exquisiteness, while here the
rocks are grim, twisted, somber,
and barren. The dry atmosphere
of the desert wavers over the can-
/ ' y' yon and shows forth the naked-
ness of the rocks instead of veiling
them, and the only verdure is
found in the few cottonwoods, el-
derberries, and ash and the spined
cactus of many species. Yet, in
its way, it is as grand and sublime
as is the Yosemite, and as well
worth an arduous journey to see.
We gaze, not our fill, but until we feel we must press forw^ard,
and soon come in sight of a deep gash in the main wall of the
canyon. There must be something there worth seeing. A hard
climb up the wall and down on the other side brings us to the foot
of two low falls. They are beautiful, but tame after the scene
we have just left. These falls are hemmed in by high boulders
which completely block the canj'on. We seek an outlet, but
there is none. In vain we follow this suggestion of a way over,
and then that. The boulders are worn so smooth by the falling
waters of many centuries that they afford no foot nor hand hold.
We long for a scaling ladder, for who knows what there is beyond ?
What possibilities of scenic grandeurs hang amongst those unsealed
Large falls
in Deep Canyon
Through ]\Iesqiiite Land 461
cliffs ahead of us ? We envy several majestic palms which stand
on the rocks four hundred feet above. They may be gazing
upon scenes that we should be entranced to witness.
With regret we retrace our steps, but at our camp-fire at night,
out again on the sand, we recall every detail of all we saw, and
thus live again the breathless moments when we first gazed upon
these hitherto unknown glories. And when the last glow of the
fire dies down, and we roll ourselves up in our blankets, and the
stars of the desert sky make their silent way through the firma-
ment, it is to dream and visit again the rising cliffs and yawning
precipices, the cascades and waterfalls, watched over by the stead-
fast sentinel palms of the Yosemite of the Colorado Desert.
This year, 1905—6, has been a great year for water in the desert
|yj^«' ^ - ^ ;|^) '>i\:y>' Chollas
&-A1i^- (^•M Hf^''--^ '""S^^ on desert
J^^t»9M^
canyons, hence we have seen Deep Canyon at its best. Will it be
the same in drier years, or after several dry years, in succession ?
Who can tell ? The desert canyons have their secrets which
man as yet has not discovered.
Next morning we continue northward, skirting the spurs and
entering the bays of the range one after another. After ten miles of
travel on the road we again turn off and enter an alley of rocks
which winds along until it brings us to a full stop before a bluish
gray w^all. At its base, in a little niche, is a tiny spring where
humming-birds, bees, butterflies, larks, mocking-birds, and robins
quench their thirst. We also see that the coyote, the mountain-
sheep and the lynx often use it as their watering place, and there
are evidences that the coyote and lynx have waited here in hiding,
ready to spring upon their unsuspecting and innocent prey.
Close by, a palm tree off'ers its shade to the burros while we
462 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
climb up a series of wild, rocky steps, made by Nature, into a small
rocky rotunda. From here a second flight leads us to the second
floor of what seems to be a native cathedral. Its floor is about
fifty feet in width, and all around in its walls are niches for the
figures of the saints. Here, "the world forgetting and by the
world forgot," one may worship in one of God's own temples.
Higher up we climb, and from a more elevated platform look down
upon the pathway that led us to the cathedral. The palm stands
like a reverent onlooker gazing up at the ecclesiastical building
and showing the way hither. Beyond is the desert of gleaming
sand framed on its northern shore by the faint blue outlines of the
San Bernardino range.
Another day and we reach Palm Valley, which to the east and
north is open to the desert, while to the west it lies under the im-
mediate protection of the high mountain walls of San Jacinto.
To the south, also, stretch the lower walls of the same range.
In the days of the Southern California boom in 1885 this valley
attracted speculators, who, enthused by its charm, laid plans for
the erection of a desert city. They named it Palmdale. Its site
was seven miles from the nearest station on the main line of the
Southern Pacific railway, and, to provide easy transit to and fro,
they laid tracks for a horse-car line to connect their new settlement
with the railway. Work in the development of the city was begun,
grapes and orchards planted out, when suddenly the water failed,
and the beautiful dream of the speculators vanished. In spite of
total neglect the vines and trees are still alive, but few indeed are
the human feet that ever tread where once many men were so busy
and so sanguine. The car track is half buried in the sand, and
stranded midway between the deserted city and the station, just as
it was left when the mules were unhitched years ago, battered,
bleached, and beaten by the storms, sun, and sand, stands the old
tram-car, half covered with sand, a typeof human failure and defeat.
A few miles farther and we reach the Garden of Eden where
Mr. B. B. Barney of Riverside, California, has brought an abun-
dant supply of water, planted many palms, and started his
Edenic garden, and then left it to revert to its original wildness.
Here we camp awhile on the outskirts of the Mesquite Land
that we have so inadequately described.
From Pines to Palms 463
CHAPTER XXXIII
From Pines to Palms
[IROUETTING like so many clowns and acrobats are
the sparks that shoot out from our camp-fire. The
flames dance and circle merrily and the burning
mesquite wood crackles lustily. It is a beautiful
evening in February and we are camped near the
old town of San Jacinto on the west side of the great
range of that name, the other sides of which gaze
directly down upon the desert. The morning of the
start is clear, bracing, and inspiring, and it seems a short tramp
past the home of Mrs. Jordan, the Aunt Ri of "Ramona," to
Florida and thence up the steep grades of the mountain to the
pines.
But evening overtakes us. We make camp under the long-
spreading branches of a big-cone spruce {Pseudotsuga macrocarpa).
All around us is a dense growth of chaparral, the main feature
of which is chamisal {Adcnosteina fasciculatum), with several
species of manzanita {Arctostaphylos), ceanothus, mountain-ma-
hogany {Cercocarpus betulcefoliiis), and tree-poppy {Dendromecon
rigidiim) scattered throughout the mass. It is early and we
determine to have a luxurious bed, so we gather a large pile of
spruce branches and make a mattress of them on which we
spread our blankets. Then in this sweetly odoriferous and
soothing atmosphere, lulled by the wooing winds which kiss
the pines and make them sing, we sink into a sleep, dreamless
and reposeful, that few city dwellers ever enjoy.
In the morning it is hard work not to spend all the time in
botanizing. The spring flowers are coming up in unusual pro-
fusion. Yonder is the big-root {Echmocystis macrocarpa), and
as only one of us is familiar with the plant and the reason for its
name, we stop long enough to dig it up. It is one of the most
464 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
wonderful water-storage plants of the mountains, being to the
higher regions what the barrel-cactus is to the desert. Its root
is made for water storage, and we find that the specimen we have
dug is gorged for a long, dry summer. It is as large around as
a man's body and full of water.
Soon we pass a lumber camp, one of those relentless slaughter-
houses of trees that have taken years to grow, and that ruthlessly
denude the mountain slopes of their rich clothing of pines, firs,
and spruces. We recognize the need of lumber, but we are
bitterly opposed to the present methods of cutting it which take
no thought for the morrow, stripping vast areas and never plant-
ing a seed for the future.
Allan's Camp, a picturesque summer resort, now seems deso-
late and forlorn. Its tents are all dismantled, but when the
'--^fp
The Thomas ranch among the pines
warmer days come the merry crowd of campers will come also,
and then the woods will resound with happy voices, exuberant
laughter, and the songs of men and women to whom the moun-
tains have given new life, health, and strength.
Now we are fairly in the Hemet or Thomas Valley, the former
name being given because on our right is the great Hemet Lake,
caused by the Hemet Dam, and which supplies the town and
vicinity of Hemet with water, and the latter name being that of
our old friend Thomas, after whom the mountain yonder is
named and to whose hospitable ranch-house our willing foot-
steps are fast hastening us.
What a difference it makes when one is tired and hungry to
feel that there is a glad welcome awaiting him ahead, where
willing hands will minister to his comfort and cheerful voices
and happy smiles make him feel at home! This is the Thomas
From riiics to Palms 465
habit. Many a traveler can tell of the warm-hearted hospitality
of this whole family, from father to youngest son, from mother
to youngest daughter.
As soon as we appear kind words greet us and we are bidden
to enter with the courtesy of New England combined with the
hearty and spontaneous welcome of California. Mr. Thomas
left the East when a young man, sailing for the land of gold in
the early days of the excitement. Soon he drifted from San
Francisco to Santa Barbara, where he met his fate. The smiling
eyes of a warm-hearted seiiorita made him captive, and he aban-
doned the gold-fields for a happy married life with the woman
of his choice. An Indian guided him to this valley of green
pastures in the heart of the mountain, the pine trees allured him
and so here he established his ranch, stocking it with horses and
cattle, and conducting it in a manner that for years has made it
one of the model ranches of Southern Calitornia. A large fam-
ily of boys and girls came to bless the happy couple, but now
they are all grown up and scattered save one, the youngest
daughter, her father's pride and joy. He says she is "his lady,
cowboy, musician, and cook." Happy the father with such a
daughter, and blessed the daughter with such a father.
This ranch-house has seen not a few noted literary people.
Here Helen Hunt Jackson rested while on her tours of investi-
gation of the condition of the Indians of Southern California,
and many another has come to hear from the kind-hearted lady
of the house stories of the early days " before the gringo came."
It is with the regret we always feel that we leave this hos-
pitable home and tramp along through the rich pasture dotted
here and there with pines. There are five meadow-valleys like
this on Mount San Jacinto, but this is by far the largest and most
important. It has an average altitude of four thousand four
hundred feet and includes about two thousand acres, all of which
is available for pasture. The water supply comes on the north
from a high ridge that is an offshoot from Tauquitch Peak,
and on the south from the Thomas Mountain. The meadows
contain a large amount of wire-grass (J minis meMcanus) and
also such grasses as Agropyron canini'im, Elyrnus tnticoicles, and
Polypogon monspeliensis. How the cattle can eat grasses with
466 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
such ponderous names and not suffer internally is a mystery, yet
they seem to thrive abundantly.
An all-day's tramp is ahead of us. Clouds gather and rain
begins to fall, however, before we reach the welcome shelter of
the Vandeventer ranch, where kind hospitality always greets us.
It is a bright sunshiny morning that invigorates and stimulates
us as we leave Vandeventer's and, swinging sharply around to
the left, take the trail that leads us northeast to the desert. Hith-
erto we have been traveling southwest. Vandeventer's is the
apex of the triangle, and we have to journey in as straight a line
as mountain valleys and canyons will allow us to Palm Springs,
where, if one were to draw a line across to our starting point at
San Jacinto, we should find the west corner of the base line of
our irregular triangle.
The trail is kindly towards us. In the main it is good, and
from an elevation of 4,549 feet at the point where we leave the
wagon-road it gently descends to 3,500 feet and then 2,500 in
Little Paradise Valley. Now we come to the flats adorned with
cottonwoods and mesquites, these latter telling us that we are
once again in the actual desert zone. And how fascinating it
is to study the plant growth of the various altitudes and the
different zones! We have done this for years in a desultory
way, but Professor H. M. Hall, of the Botanical Department of
the California State University, has done it scientifically and his
monograph on the subject should be in the hands of every man
who makes such a trip as this. He shows that the ordinary
conditions of altitude which generally affect plant growth are
materially modified here by unusual conditions, such as steep-
ness of slope, the desert winds, avalanches, and landslides, etc.
The effect of air-currents on the plant-life of San Jacinto is
peculiarly interesting. On the west and southwest the breezes
are the ordinary warm currents which tend to exalt the zones of
plant-life to the higher summits. On the east and northeast,
where naturally one expects to find these zones differing on
account of the cold winds that generally come from these quar-
ters, the very opposite occurs. For here come up the torrid
winds from the desert, forcing plant-life up, far above what we
find on the west and southwest.
From Pines to Palms
K)7
In some places a fierce battle is constantly being waged be-
tween opposing factors which control plant distribution. One
Mtirray Butte, in Palm Canyon
of these is on the north side of the mountain, where, as Dr. Hall
says, "on account of the steep north slopes, w^e should expect
to see the life zones running down to very low altitudes. But
468
The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
opposed to this factor is that of the warm air-currents rising from
the Colorado Desert. The lower edge of the timber belt, which
furnishes a good indication of the results of the struggle, is seen
to be extremely sinuous on these slopes, running well out on the
protected sides of all ridges and spurs, but immediately retreat-
ing to higher altitudes wherever it comes around on those sides
exposed to the desert winds. This would seem to indicate that
the lower limits of this belt are influenced not so much by the
slowly ascending air-currents as by the hot winds, since the
former would tend to equalize the temperature over all that
On the
Palm Canyon
trail
region, while the latter strike as hot, drying blasts on all ex-
posed areas."
With discussions such as these, elicited by the varying con-
ditions as we journey, we while away the hours. Here we rise
upon a ridge, and again make a quick drop of two hundred feet
or more. From the ridge we look down, and there, calm, stately,
and serene, we see the first group of palms. This is the out-
post, the advance guard. Higher than this they have not yet
been able to come in their storming of the mountain heights.
What a wonderfully interesting subject it is, this influence of
altitude and climate upon the growth of plant-life! Hitherto
we have been in the pines, spruces, and firs. Now we are to be
with the palms, with but few of the arctic species. Yet,
From Pines to Palms
4G9
while we love the palms, it is with a decided feeling of regret
that we gaze upon our last group of pines. There they stand,
the stately trees, in a most alluring cluster, — an island of green
projected, as we look up to them from below, upon the deep
cobalt of the mountain sky, — and as the clear and brilliant
Californian sunshine sweeps through their leafy aisles, suffusing
the whole palpitating cluster with its searching and resistless
radiance, the very air seems filled with the aroma of creation
and life.
Now the trail swerves to the right. From all sides the moun-
tain seems to dip towards the canyon (for we are now at the
head of Palm Canyon), and also northwards towards the desert,
a white sheet of level sand (so it appears.) bordered by the blue
line of the San Bernardino Mountains. Here is a large garden
of Tucca whtppleii,
and it seems as if
we might have them
all the way down
to the desert, but
they disappear al-
most as suddenly as
they appear, and we
see them no more.
Now the palm trees are more frequent. One after another, in-
dividually and in clusters, they come into sight, their tall,
slender boles lifting high their golden tops, crowned with green
fan-leaves and looking almost like the head-gear of Indian
warriors. In this canyon and at this time, they present a grand
and almost awe-inspiring aspect and we are hushed into silence
and delighted adoration in their presence. Down and down
we go, the merry stream singing to us all the way.
The next morning is perfect, and the air deliciously cool,
for the sun, though gathering strength, is not yet a fiery god
scorching all things with his gaze. The desert, therefore, is not
yet awake. It is dreamy and romantic. The drowsiness of
sleep is yet upon its face and in its eyes. The winds as yet are
but delicate breezes playing gently with the plants and flowers
as tenderly as a lover touches the tresses of his sleeping love.
On the trail up Palm Canyon
470 The AYonders of the Colorado Desert
I remember lunching once in Palm Canyon with my wife and
daughter and two friends. We found a great granite boulder
that had been washed down and over until it was perfectly smooth.
It had lodged near the stream, and both before and behind it
giant palms had grown, which now hold it fast in their close
embrace. The fan-like leaves completely sheltered the boulder.
On one side there was an open entrance while on the other the
water dashed noisily by. As we sat there eating our lunch we all
observed the different noises made by the water, — the steady,
gentle murmur of the continuous flow, with an occasional ker-
plunk, ker-plunk in a deep, orotund tone, as of a stone dropped
into a well. Above and around us the palms kept up their gentle
.i'
Af
Old slage-station at Palm Springs
rustle, ^nd gave us bewitching changes of sunshine and shade
as the great leaves swung to and fro.
As we sat there in the shadow of the palms, knowing the great
silent desert was just behind us, and the towering mountain peaks
just ahead, we felt full of a strange, expectant awe as if some new,
great, wonderful thing might happen at any moment.
The feathery fronds of the palms shut us in from all else in
the world. We were alone, alone with our own hearts and God.
Nature quietly intruded, however, and sent her gentle zephyrs,
odor laden, to be incense at our altar, the birds sang soothingly
and restfully the message of sweet peace, and the stream came
down, looked at our happiness and hurried on to babble the news
to all the world outside, that we were hidden in a place of joy,
beauty, peace, and rest.
From Pines to Palms
471
We returned to Palm Springs in the early afternoon, and, as
we approached the settlement, it was a picture that would have
charmed George Inncs or William Keith. There, half a mile
away, stretched a long lane, bordered on the right by fluffy looking
cottonwoods of a soft pea-green, and on the left by peppers of a
much deeper, richer shade. Both tones were wonderfully accent-
uated by the two cypress trees which form Dr. Murray's gate-
way. They seemed dark to blackness compared with the lighter
green of the cottonwoods and peppers. The houses, white-
gabled and red-roofed, were snugly ensconced under the shelter-
ing protection of trees, the deep colors of the oranges and
figs contrasting deliciously w^ith the pre-
dominating soft pea-greens of the cot-
On the Morongo Pass road
tonwoods. To the left was the dark, somber, reddish slope of
the San Jacinto foot-hills, with a rude nose or promontory bathed
in sunlight setting forth in brilliancy the elevated stretch of desert
beyond, upon which the brownish green patches of verdure were
dotted. Still farther away reached the lower hills of the Sierra
San Bernardino, dimpled and shadowed, seamed and canyoned,
reddish gray and deepest purple, with their rugged and irregular
summits clean cut as a cameo against a cloudless Southern Califor-
nia desert sky.
And coming back to this oasis, as I have done several times
after w^eeks of weary travel on the wide expanse of desolation
beyond, how sweet and blessed it all is! The leaves of the trees,
with the waxen blossoms of the orange and lemon, or the blushing
472 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
blossoms of the almond and apricot, touch one as with tender
hands bathed in sweetest perfume. The waters of its tiny creeks
whisper of the cooling draughts they will give to mind as well
as body. The gentle zephyrs kiss one's face and lips and hands
as in tenderest caress, and the skin the fierce desert sun and winds
have tanned and scorched is soothed and refreshed. Yet it is
not all external, what the oasis gives. The heart beats easier,
the pulses are less strong and masterful, the nerves are more under
control, and the inward fever of body and brain seems quenched
almost as soon as one reclines under the shade of the oasis. And
then, penetrating farther, mind and soul are soothed and quieted,
and one is able to see how to use the added strength and rugged
power he has absorbed from the rude and uncouth, but loving
and generous bosom of the desert mother.
A Pasear
473
CHAPTER XXXIV
A Pasear from the Garden of Eden by way of Morongo
Pass and Twenty-Nine Palms to Indio
_^i^ikITTING on the porch of the httle white house
I ;'^%1^ in the Garden of Eden one obtains an expansive
^'',i«vH view of the desert. Out of its dark gray rises
k? one of the big sand-dunes shming rosy m the
h sunHght, while, four miles away, the oasis of Palm
Springs lies, a living green garden amidst the dull
color of the wide vastness. Beyond, the horizon
is bounded by the faint blue line of the San Bernardino range.
To the right and left the descending spurs of the Sierra San
Jacinto form the frames of this incomparable picture. Storm
clouds float down from the west through the San Gorgonio Pass,
dividing themselves into somber armies, flanking off to the north
over the far-off hills, and to the right over the San Jacinto range,
quickly covering and hiding it from sight.
It is on a morning like this that we start out, with our three
burros, for Palm Springs and beyond. Those who see the desert
Garden of Eden
in the summer and fall, or even in the winter, can scarcely believe
that the dry, sandy watercourses which cross the roads over
which we travel have ever been moistened by water. But let
them come at such a time as this. The clouds on the mountains
have given forth their burden of rain and now these once dry
474 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
"washes" are full of whirling, swirling, roaring waters that have
poured out from the canyons and are now on their way into the
desert. There are no bridges, so the only way to cross them is
to boldly plunge in, after seeing that the burros have crossed.
They hesitate before risking it, as their burdens are a little heavy,
but, as they stand deliberat-
ing on the edge, we give them
a deciding push, and, once
in, they are soon across.
Sometimes incantations are
needed, however, to persuade
them to cross a particularly
noisy stream. We objurgate,
and use a variety of pictur-
esque language, as well as
perform mysterious movements with divers and sundry sticks.
Once or twice they and their packs slip almost out of sight, but
fortune favors us and we get over all the streams without anything
more serious than a thorough wetting, several times repeated.
In front ot the store at Palm Springs we find quite a caravan of
canvas-covered wagons, — prairie schoon-
ers of a modern type. It is a
band of emigrants
Indian ollas
coming from arid
Ari zona to the
north country, —
Oregon or Wash-
ington,— where
water is plentiful.
Their horses are of
fine working strain,
and their wagons
new and well
equipped. There are twenty-one persons in the party, one whole
family, from grandfather to babies, and all cheerful, happy, and
hopeful. Will they ever grow homesick for the blue sky and the
purple mountains ofsunny Arizona, "the country that God forgot,"
as Frances Charles has it ? "We know the way back, if we want
The Toutain ranch, Whitewater Canyon
A Pasear
475
.^:
r/i^ Morongo Pass ~ ^■^^■"^'■l^~.
^ --^ ")!•_'-'*,
to return!" smilingly answers one of the younger men in answer
to our query. To them, here, the word "desert" seems a mis-
nomer. "Desert.?" cries one of them, "why we've been having
rain half the time since we left Yuma." We also can foretell
what they will have to meet when they cross the wash of the
Whitewater, swollen by these heavy rains.
We ourselves
have to face the
flooded wash,
and our roads
are cut across
by the dozen or
more of "wild"
streams that
have overflowed the banks and are seeking to escape in every di-
rection. Yet it is not a disagreeable experience. We have had so
much heat, and dry sand to travel over for the past months that
this flooded condition comes with the exhilarating excitement of
change. So long as we feel there is no danger we rather enjoy
the fun of having to urge on our reluctant burros. The rain has
clarified the atmosphere and put a "champagney" quality into it,
and we walk along,
splashing through n f^
the water where it
courses along in
the road- bed, with a
"don't care" vim
that would be the
envy of a city street
arab.
It is a good thing
we don't have to camp out on a flooded road, though, as we
have had to do in past experiences. The Whitewater ranch-
house is before us, a picturesque old adobe, shaded by aged
and gnarled cottonwood trees. It is an historic building, for it
was once an important station on the overland stage line. Here
the travelers coming west over the desert in the hot days ot
summer got their first whiffs of sea-breeze, rushing in from the
Old
gold vjJteel
476
The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
Pacific over the San Gorgonio Pass. How they longed — when
deep down in the desert bowl and exposed to the fierce heat of
the noonday sun, which beat down with uncontrolled fury, and
beat up with as great intensity from the barren sands and salt-
covered plains — to reach this delicious oasis, drink its cool,
pure, and refreshing waters, disrobe and bathe all over in it.
What luxury, what joy, — plenty of water!
Yes, and the old building has tragic memories as well, for it
is boldly whispered that the early dwellers in this whitewashed
adobe felt no qualms of conscience at "potting a few inoffensive
Indians," merely to keep themselves in practice. A cave, also,
has been discovered, not far away, where a few desperadoes lived
The Devil's Garden
who did not hesitate to relieve prosperous miners of their sur-
plus gold-dust.
Though there seems always to be green pasturage at the White-
water ranch, there is not always plenty of water. We are told
that the water is all "ditched" from the Whitewater River, some
two to three miles east. Even now the floods have so silted up
this ditch that all the drinking water is hauled in barrels from the
river and the stock is watered at a "sump" hole in the pasture.
Here we are favored by "rubbing up" against several old
prospectors. They come and look at our burros, and, as we take
off the packs, comment on the way we have tied them on. One
undertakes to show us a new way of "throwing the diamond
hitch," another "the squaw hitch," and still another "the figure
four hitch." Then when we tell them who we are they laugh
each other to scorn and cry, "Sold again!" They took us for
"tenderfeet."
A Pasear 477
Two main desert roads lead horn the Whitewater ranch into
the desert, — we have just come over the one, we are about
to take the other. It strikes off somewhat to the north on to
an extended mesa into the Morongo Pass, the connecting link,
at this point, between the Mohave and Colorado Deserts.
Through this pass the Yumas and Chemehuevis used to come
on their visits to the Coahuillas and Serranos of the desert and the
San Bernardino Mountains. Aftei-wards the gold-hunting ad-
venturers and trappers found it a convenient pass. It is also
said the Spanish missionaries came this way and left a trace of
their presence in the Mission Creek Valley through which we
are now passing before we strike the mesa. They taught the
Indians how to plant and care for the vine. Then the white
man came and drove the Indian out (as he had no legal title)
and built an adobe house. 7 hings seemed to thrive and the
small lake of water caused by the rains appeared to have be-
come a permanent thing. It struck the fancy of some one and
he offered a good price for it, which was taken. Then an earth-
quake came and made a gash through which all the water escaped.
It ruined the valley for the white man and so now a paternal
government has handed it over as an Indian reservation.
We unpack the burros by the roadside for an hour's rest at
noon and sit down on the rocks to enjoy the wondrous view
spread out before us. We have seen it from every possible angle,
this desert and its mountain framework, yet it is never less beau-
tiful, never less impressive than it was at first.
When we find ourselves on the mesa we begin to understand
why this is called by the prospectors "the devil's garden." It
is simply a vast, native, forcing ground for a thousand varieties
of cactus. They thrive here as if specially guarded. Here are
the tiny Mamillaria, hidden where one must hunt for them, and
close by various Opiuitias and Echinocactus, especially the large
E. Ee Contei, the largest of them all, the "barrel-cactus," which
reminds us somewhat of the giant Sahuaro, a few of which I
have found on this desert on the California side of the Colorado
River. Some of these Echinocactuses are ball-shaped and the
local parlance names them "nigger heads." Delightfully in-
terspersed with these various cactuses are flowering creosote
478
The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
bushes, the whole forming a singularly strange and grotesque
piece of landscape gardening. As far as I know it is unique in
the United States. On the Mohave Desert, near Hesperia and
elsewhere, there are a large number of the Tucca arborescens, —
the so-called tree yucca, — and near Tucson are thousands of
Sahuaro, but I know of no place where so many varieties are to
be found as in this small area near the Morongo Pass.
It does not take us long to reach the pass, and we find our-
selves at one thousand eight hundred feet above sea-level nearly
two thousand feet below the San Gorgonio Pass. The shade
offered by mountain and brush is tempting to us as well as to
our burros, but there is no time for rest now, as pasture and
water are offered to us at Chuck Warren's, whose ranch-house
reposes in the shelter of some fine old cottonwood trees on the
^^-V^V^^""'^" -^;^'^ '""^^ .^^^^^BBpagg?^^-^^--:- > -^^o^ii:i£=?^ -- . -
Entering the Morongo Pass
other side of the valley. He sees us coming and at the watering-
trough greets us in his hearty, sincere, pioneer fashion. Bluff,
hale, and strong, and with a face that always breaks out into a
genial smile at the presence of a friend, at seventy-three he is
as healthy and vigorous as a young oak. He got his name
from the fact that in the early days he was a teamster on the
Chuckwalla trail. So "Chuck" he was called, and Chuck he
is from one end of the desert to the other. If he has any other
"Christian" name no one knows it or ever thinks of using it,
and it is now hallowed, not only by long usage, but by the affec-
tion with which his friends speak it. With his wife, his sturdy
sons and daughter, he lives his simple life, raising cattle and by
irrigation making two blades of grass grow where none grew
before. He is taking what he calls a well-earned rest (though
A Pasear
479
he works twelve and fourteen hours a day) after the hardships
of his teamster days.
We stop at the hospitable ranch, unpacking and unsaddhng
our burros so that they may revel in the rich pasture while we
chat with the jolly old man. What a thing it is to live to seventy-
three years of age and be as light-hearted and full of fun as a boy!
About nine miles from the ranch is a little outpost where he
first settled and that now bears the name Chuck Warren's Well.
A cabin, corral, and windmill are always at the disposal of the
passing traveler. On a hill not far away is Chuck's "slaughter-
house." Here, after the cow-
boy has picked out and " roped "
his "beef," he brings it and it
is not many minutes before
"beef on the hoof" is converted
into beef for the kitchen.
We leave Chuck's place with
regret, but we take his hearty
hospitality along with us. 1 he
road beyond the well is most
interesting and by and by we
are in a grove of the tree yucca,
the T. aborescjens or mohaven-
sis, which adds its weird and
picturesque characteristics to
an already peculiar piece of desert. A wide expanse opens up
before us, losing itself in the far distance in several rows of
sand-hills, bordered by blue lines of mountains which belong to
the Mohave Desert. We arc now on the border line, though
there is no natural or artificially named boundary.
To our ritrht a road leads off to the "Lost Horse Mine." The
valleys between those ragged hills over there are scooped out
and form reservoirs for water, and should the traveler find them
dried out, all he needs to do it to dig down in the sand and he
is sure to find water. Such wells are called "coyote holes" by
the desert prospector.
It is a long, wearisome journey from Chuck Warren's Well
to Twenty-Nine Palms, over twenty-two miles of sandy road,
Butchering appliances
480
The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
and we welcome the sight of the long, slender stems clothed with
their mysterious crown of rich, dark-green leaves that denote
the end of our day's tramp. Before we come to them, however,
we stop for a short time at Captain Jim's kan and chat with the
old Indian and his squaw. Here they live a solitary life, con-
tented and happy, for their needs are well provided for by the
little garden, the cattle he owns and the natural gifts of the
desert, such as the fruit of the prickly pear, pinion nuts, chia
seeds, and the like. He was born here and has seen his native
place occupied in turn by white men and Mexicans.
A quarter of a mile
farther and we are at
Twenty-Nine Palms.
A number of the
palms have been
cut -down,
but the old
""'^ name still
remains
At Twenty-Nine Palms
and doubtless will, even though every palm disappear. It seems
almost a crime to cut down these marvelous scions of the desert.
They have stood here for centuries, and, like the giant trees of
the Big Basin, should be preserved for the generations of the
future. Twenty-Nine Palms is the home of "Charley" Wilson,
another well-known prospector and miner, who has had varying
fortunes from poverty to affluence in his long desert life.
Mr. Wilson takes us out to show us an old Mexican arrastra,
a primitive ore-crushing machine and mineral-separating mill.
Only a part of it remains, but this clearly shows how the simple
contrivance did its work. Fastened with chains to cross-beams
are heavy flat rocks. The beams are attached to an upright
which is made to revolve by mule power. As the rocks revolve.
A Pasear
481
draJTcinc: on the ore beneath, it is crushed and milled. The floor
too O
of the pit is grooved, and when the mill is in operation, mercury
is put into the grooves to catch the gold or silver as the grinding
progresses.
Each week, or
each month, as
judgment dic-
tates, a "clean
up" takes
place, when
the grooves are
emptied of
their contents
(the mixture of
mercury and
precious metal
beinji called
amalgam), which are put into a retort, and separated, the mer-
cury being used again in the mill.
The next morning .as we pack the burros Captain Jim appears
and his pleasing voice inquires, "You go away?" Before we
Wilson's house
Working the arastra at
Twenty-Nine Palms
go he tells us of the days that he well remembers when antelope,
deer, and mountain-sheep abounded in this valley, and when,
also, there were plenty of Indians. "But now," said he, "they
are all gone," and he makes an expressive gesture with both
482
The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
"Horning" for gold
hands and arms, signifying that they are scattered, never to
return. Yet, though we belong to the race which has done his
race so much injury, he shakes hands with us and bids us "Come
again" with a heartiness that betokens its simple sincerity.
Eight miles of travel brings us to Gold Park,
a number of mining claims belonging to Los
Angeles capitalists. The camp is in care of
a Mr. Sullivan, who on our arrival informs us
that he is anxiously awaiting the coming of
the wagons which are to bring men for the
mine, provisions, and other needed sup-
plies. As his disappointment seems to
add to his loneliness we respond to his
hearty invitation to "unpack," by tak-
ing off the packs from the burros and
making ourselves at home for the night.
For fifteen years he has wandered over
the desert, prospecting and mining, and
many a tale he tells us of hair-raising experiences with Indians and
wild beasts, and the natural horrors and terrors of the desert, —
sand-storms, floods, fierce winter winds,
lack of water, and the like. When
night comes and our pleasant fire lights
up the surrounding gloom he brings
forth from some hidden recess a viohn,
upon which he plays a number of pop-
ular pieces with both skill and precision.
But we can see he is uncomfortable.
Is it the absence of the
men.? No! Short of pro-
-^ visions? No! Well, what
is it ? Then the confession
comes. He is out of to-
bacco, and he notices that
the smoker of our party
has scraped every last grain out of his tobacco sack, so that
he knows he is also "out," and he is just "dying" for a smoke.
So early next morning he decides to walk on with us to El Do-
Preparing
the ore for
' ' horn-
ing ".
A Pa sear 48:3
rado, eight miles away, where brother miners will relieve his
craving. We climb many a hill and pass many a "prospect
hole," so that the white tents of El Dorado are a welcome sight.
The superintendent, Mr. \\. Brydon, kindly invites us to lunch
and then shows us around the camp. Touching upon the sub-
ject of reptiles, he assures us that his men have killed thirty
rattlesnakes during the last two months. There are also a large
number of chuckwallas, as well as the ordinary varieties of smaller
lizards, in the region.
El Dorado is one of the discoveries of Charley Wilson and is now
owned by the El Dorado Consolidated Mining Co., of Los Angeles,
California. Not far away is the scene of a desert tragedy. It
has often been said that many of the mines of Arizona are
marked with the brand of Cain, for there are few that have not
witnessed the murderous shedding of human blood. \\ hile this
is not true of the mines of the desert, there are some that bear
the homicidal curse. This particular claim is called "Dead-
man's Hole." Two miners owned it in joint partnership and for
a while all went well. Then one grew suspicious of the other
and accused him of selling ore on the sly. W hen the quarrel was
known other miners interfered and took sides, and it ended in a
shooting affray in which two men, a father and his son, were
slain.
As we leave El Dorado Camp we carry away the impression
that erelong this mining district will be heard from. The
indications are very favorable and if they hold out, good mines
are sure to result.
Dark clouds are gathering over the mountains and for a while
it seems as if we shall be drenched, but the skies clear again ere
we reach a little rock-house and tent four miles from El Dorado.
It belongs to the Hersey Mine, and a little w^ell of w'ater, with a
slight sulphurous taste, explains the location of the house.
A wearisome afternoon's walk is ahead of us through a long
valley, where the road reaches on and on apparently without
end. After tramping until after sunset we find it makes a swerve
to the south and enters a canyon. Before we leave the valley
we turn around and are enchanted with a group of rocks sharply
outlined against the evening sky, appearing more like a row of
484
The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
imposing castles crowning a high mesa than natural objects out
in the desert. As we turn again the supposititious castles dis-
appear, but shortly afterward a pleasing reality takes their
place in the form of the Pinion Camp, the place we have decided
upon for our night's stopping place. There are a few cabins
and a stamp mill situated in a cozy nook in the mountains, and
— pleasing fact — the homes of families, where the voices of
women and children are heard.
The next morning we pass down an unnamed canyon, green
with trees, shrubs, and flowers. The pinion grows here side by
side with the yucca and cedar, and with the flowers it seems
incongruous to call this a desert country. Now everything is
green and beautiful. The profuse rains have made them so.
But soon, when the moisture is gone, all save a few hardy plants
Pinnacles at entrance of Pinion Canyon
and trees will disappear, and one passing through then could
scarcely realize that it was the place he had seen as we see it
now.
Gradually, however, a change takes place. The green van-
ishes, the trees grow scarcer and even the yuccas become few and
far between, and we find ourselves in a canyon deeply cut out
by floods and strewn with water-washed rocks and deep sand.
Bleak mountain walls frown down upon us and they seem to
soar upward and reach out forever. With every turn we hope
to catch a glimpse of the desert, but we are regularly disap-
pointed. A boarded well appears, but w^e do not stop for water,
as we know we must be approaching Indio. When travelers
come to this well in the opposite direction it is completely hidden
by a large rock, into which Nature has carved recesses which
serve as a cupboard for rough-and-ready camp cooking utensils.
A Pasear 485
How welcome the sudden apparition of the well must be to
weary and thirsty travelers from Indio who come over this road
for the first time!
At last we reach the open, but there is another mountain range
ahead of us through which we must pass ere we can see Indio,
so at a convenient spot we stop and unpack and eat lunch. The
burros evidently share our longing to take a nap, even though
there is scant shade in the lee of the small bush where we sit,
bur we must press on. They are very unwilling to rise and re-
sume their packs. They are evidently tired out, but we push
steadily on, and by the middle of the afternoon reach the brow
of our last hill. Again the desert is before us, made green for
miles by thousands of mesquites. Yonder is Indio, sheltered
in a bower of cottonwoods, and with the tufts of the palms showing
here and there in tropical beauty. Another hour and our burros
are feeding on good grass close to the old adobe schoolhouse
and we are again in the land of railways and the bustle of men.
Old arastra at Twenty-Nine Palms
486
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From Yuma to Sulton Sea 487
CHAPTER XXXV
From Yuma, down the Overflow of the Colorado to
THE Salton Sea
N the following chapter I will describe the Salton
Sea, its origin, present state, and the efforts made to
shut off the flow of the Colorado River into it.
^'' On Thursday, March 8, 1906, I started with sev-
:>?5^ eral companions to fully explore the flow of the
iS^'*?" Colorado River and to follow it whithersoever it
went until it finally emptied in the Salton Sea.
Our explorations led us down the Alamo River, a
trip that had never before been taken. Yet it was not the first trip
ever made down the overflow of the Colorado River to the Saltoiji
Sea. When the uprise of the Salton occurred in 1891, the
San Franctsco Examiner empowered Mr. H. W. Patton, then
editor of the Banning Herald, to take a boat at Yuma and
follow the overflow to the Salton Sea. He did so, guided by
Mr. J. E. Carter, one of the best-posted white men familiar with
the Colorado River below Yuma. They, however, went by
the New River and reached Salton after an exciting and ad-
venturous trip. Owing to Mr. Patton 's haste to reach the
nearest railway and telegraph station a rather amusing report
of his arrival was sent out. His boat reached a point some
miles below the station of Salton, so he left it and persuaded
the foreman of a railway gang to allow him to ride to the
station on the pump-car. The wag at the telegraph oflfice at
once reported to rival papers in San Francisco that Mr. Harry
Patton, who was sent by the Examiner to go by boat from Yuma
to the Salton Sea, "had jn<:t arrived at Salton on a hand-car.''
We arrived at the railway on foot after our journey, having
had to walk eighteen miles and ford several sloughs to get there.
The whole story I will now recount.
488
The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
-J^.
■^;^3^^^^^^^^3ftrA^iA^s2S
Purchasing two boats at Yuma, one a flat-bottomed ordinary
gig, stoutly built, with six oars, and the other a mere tub or light
scow, with flat bottom and stub nose, such as miners and pros-
pectors have made to float down the Colorado River, our party
of six whites left "the city of torrid heat." There were Brown
(partner of Burton Holmes, the well-known lecturer), Gripton,
of New York; Van Anderson, of New York; Judson, dean of
Fine Arts department of University of Southern California; Lea,
missionary to the Yumas; and myself, whom the boys in fun
called "Commodore."
We had been warned of the dangers and difficulties we were
sure to encounter. There were some ten miles where the wild
river ran through a mesquite forest, through which we should
have to cut, push, force our
way. One of the men who
had tried, failed and re-
turned. Then, if we suc-
ceeded in getting through
the mesquite and reached
Sharps — the point inMex-
ico where the waters are
taken and distributed
through head-gates into the
irrigating canals of the Im-
perial country — we should have some fifty miles of the Alamo
River to run which had never before been done. The diff'er-
ence in level between the water at Sharps and at the Salton
Sea is nearly three hundred feet, and a fall of three hundred
feet in fifty miles surely meant rapids galore; indeed we were
warned that we should make the "fifty miles in fifty minutes."
Then the engineers assured us that the force of the flood had
so scoured out the channel that the banks, from being mere
ridges, were now high walls thirty, forty, fifty and more feet
high, and one great danger to be apprehended and guarded
against was the fact that the rapid flow of the stream was
constantly undermining certain portions of these banks and
they fell into the stream in such vast quantity that they would
destroy or sink any boat unfortunate enough to be under them.
On the Alamo River
From Yuma to Salton Sea
48!)
This was a serious enough danger as we afterwards learned
when we saw thousands of tons of earth fall, sending up great
waves which came near swamping our boats.
Certain custom-house officers whom we met assured us that
we should all be good ship-carpenters before our trip was
concluded, and another desert humorist warned us to be ready
with an axe so that when snags came through the bottom of
our boats we could cut them off. Then, said he, "You'll have
enough from what \'ou've cut off to use as fire-wood."
We were a jolly party when we set out from Yuma. Easily
we drifted with the current, our artist im-
patient all the time to catch the marvelous
Mountain
Springs
^i^\.
^^^m/
•^S^
colors that seemed to be produced that evening for his especial
delectation. I shall never forget his delight when I pulled in-
shore and called out, "Camp for the night." Forgetful of
everything he jumped out, and came near being swallowed up
in the quicksand, for here there is little or no clay to make wet
parts of the banks secure. Without waiting, however, to cleanse
himself from the mud, he fixed his easel and in a few moments
was oblivious to the world, the flesh, and the devil in the revelry
of color the sunset was giving him.
Brownie was quite a chef. It is not often that the business
manager for an eminent lecturer can throw aside his dignity
and tie on big boots, throw on a sombrero and wear a flannel
490 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
^f-'. ,
M
shirt, and cook over a camp-fire for eight hungry vandals. Yet
that was v^hat Brownie did to perfection. He is a great singer
also, and in the development of his chest has done wonders.
But, while cooking, it always seemed to me that his chest de-
velopment had slipped down a
little, for his breath was gener-
ally pretty short as if the stoop-
ing over squeezed him some-
where. But he was a good cook.
He had taken care at Yuma to get an
pty square tin pail large enough to
d several pounds of ice, and upon this
kept the steak, oranges, and grape fruit.
Imagine having
grape fruit
for breakfast
on a camp-
ing-out trip.
Sleeping
out of doors
is great fun in
a dry, healthy
country, and
to see the
eight of us early that morning rolled up on the sand with nothing
but our heads sticking out was enough to tempt one of us to fire
off a gun. It scared the boys nearly out of their wits, but they
were soon up and ready for breakfast.
By noon we were examining the work being done for the per-
manent head-gate, a magnificent reinforced concrete structure
that is to receive the main supply of water for the Imperial
region.
Later in the day we came to the scene of the desperate efforts
— six in number — made to control the unexpected flood of the
Colorado, already described.
A mile or so below this point we reached the busy and bus-
tling camp of the lower intake, with store, bakery, large dining-
tents, doctor's office, steam-engines, pile-drivers, centrifugal suc-
Colorado
River
steamer
From Yuma to Salton Sea 491
tion-pumps, electric-light plants, all revealing the gi'eat activity
and determined pressure of the work. All the men that could
possibly be used were working day and night on the construc-
tion of the Rockwood head-gate.
Here our Indians joined us for the main part of the trip. Talk
about Indians being fools! They were both keen, observing,
wide-awake, daring, serene in the face of danger, self-contained
and hard working. There's many a white man who would look
down on these "savages" who could not begin to compare with
them in intelligence and practical usefulness.
Leavinsi the lower intake in three boats with six whites and
these two Indians we started down the Alamo —
as the canal should properly be termed. For the
first ten miles it was plain, easy, smooth floating
on the bosom ot a great
river, for, as I have
shown, all the water ailJV'j^j "'
of the Colorado was
pouring through the "V'1 ' '> ^ /^ '. j5fu^ 4>,
"temporary cut ' mto - • ' '-^T /i'J'-A Wl|y^^ ^^ ^^
, ' ^ , _^ -^y-" "C^-^- 'Ufe:; main
It. I he great volume ___ c, ^ ^^"^ canal
had widened and deep- Imperial Valley
ened the channel until
now it was no longer a "canal," but a mighty river, nearly i,ooo
feet across.
At the end of this ten miles our troubles began. As we had been
warned, we found the river had left its bed and overflowed the coun-
try in every direction, in all of which was a mesquite forest. The
mesquite, for all practical purposes where man is concerned,
should be called the mescratch, for its thorns are large, sharp, and
penetrating. As the diminished current bore us on we ran end on,
stern on, sidewise, anyhow into these mesquite thorns. I was in the
fiont boat, in he bow, seeking the way. As the stream divided
and subdivided it required speedy observation to tell which was
the larger cur ent and follow it, and Jim and I w^ere kept very busy.
There was no time given for decision, for we were borne on into one
of the waiting trees, ready to pierce us from "stem to stern" with
its poisonous thorns. I learned to "take" them head on as a
492 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
goat takes its foes. Pulling my broad-brimmed sombrero over
my ears, lifting up my coat collar, and lowering my head I "butted
in." But the fun came when we stuck there. Fun ? Oh, it was
great, to find yourself lodged in the heart of the branches of a
mesquite, the thorns making fresh punctures in your tires at every
movement, and the uneasy current beneath swaying and swinging
you to and fro! Many a time we had to resort to machete, hatchet,
or axe and literally chop our way through. Then, as the many
divisions and diversions of the current reduced the flow of water,
we ran on to sand-bars in these mesquites and for hours at a time
had to wade in the water, up to our middles, often sinking in the
quicksands up to our knees and higher, lifting, pushing, pulling,
straining to get our boats along while the mesquite thorns got in
their work.
And the joy of it was increased as night came on. We were
still in the thick of it. No place to camp. Not a sign of dry bank
anywhere. There was nothing for it but to stop in the first break
big enough for three boats to be tied side by side, for misery loves
and needs company, and eating our cold supper, scratched from
top to toe, wet through, muddy, bedraggled, and wretched in
appearance, our "joy" was added to by a heavy downpour of rain.
Physically we were so miserable that it made us laugh.
Where were we to sleep ?
Nowhere but in the boats. Now it cannot be conceded that the
slats at the bottom of a boat are at all conducive to sleep, especially
when the slats are wet and very muddy. With evident shrinking
these scions of noble houses stretched out their blankets. Brownie
and Lea took the scow, the two Indians the bow of the big boat,
Grippie the wide stern-seat, to which he built an extension for his
feet, and Van on the slats below, while I had the other small boat
to myself.
My! how it did pour, and I guess those boats leaked extra on
purpose. Wet through, I awoke to find Van wringing out his
blankets, and at another time to hear Grippie laughing as if he
would burst. "What's up?" I asked, to which he gave the
intelligible response, "I'm laughing because I'm so miserable."
In the morning the parson looked as if he'd been "bucking the
tiger" all night, and Brownie had the same appearance as when
From Yuma to Salton Sea 493
the box office "returns" show a deficit. Grippie laughed some
more, which denoted the depth of wretchedness and despair into
which he had sunk.
No hot coffee! no hot steak! no steaming fried onions! no hot
anything, except a hot temper. But we had vowed we would
"grin and bear" whatever came along, so with "brave hearts and
dauntless spirits " we swallowed a cold biscuit and started on.
It was four times worse that morning than it had been the
preceding day. Hour after hour we toiled along, up to the waist
in water, chopping, cutting, pushing, pulling, and getting scratched.
Mainly the latter. Several times we had to cut down mesquite
trees that completely blocked our way,
and I never knew before how hard it ( ^
was to cut down a tree below the
water line. For, of course, if the
stump was left high enough to
prevent our boats going over them
we might as well have left the trees
standing.
Hour after hour it kept up, un-
til at last peace reigned within,
for we were back again in the , , ,
^ I lie desert traveler s way
mam current and channel. The ^f making biscuits
contour of the country here is
such that, while a small part of the water had escaped and
flowed off by way of the Rio Padrones, the larger amount con-
verges and reenters the banks of the Alamo at a point called
Seven Wells. As soon as we could we camped, spread out our
bedding to dry, while Brownie made sweet music with steak,
onions, potatoes, and corn on the frying-pan and stew-kettles.
That night in camp on the Alamo we uneasily tossed on our
blankets, for all of us had a number of thorns deep seated in various
and many parts of our systems. While the thorns in our bodies
made our sleep that night somewhat disturbed, it was a great
improvement upon the night we spent in the boats.
The following day we had reasonably gocd rowing, though the
wind arose and blew dead against us for several miles. But with
a fair current in our favor we were able to make headway. We
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4 94 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
passed hundreds of thousands of aquatic birds, which nest and Hve
here in almost perfect seclusion. Hardly a soul in a year passes
them, so that they are almost as tame as domestic fowl. We
rowed our boats again and again to within fifty feet of great
solemn blue herons, standing overlooking the places where fish
were likely to be caught. In one place we found a heronry where
fully a thousand nests could be counted.
Now and again a sea-gull would follow us, just as the gulls do
the steamers that cross San Francisco Bay, as if eager for us to
give them something, and one could not help questioning whether
these birds had ever had the training of the bay, or were
wild birds with a natural instinct to follow anything which
seemed to suggest the possibility of food.
But by far the most beautiful
of all the bird sights we saw was
the recurrence of flocks of peli-
cans, soaring far up in the sky.
Hundreds and possibly thou-
sands of these birds were flocked
'i'^^''iM',^^.'j^^''J^P.-jJ2^^^'- together, and apparently soaring
- , ,. '"!^^^==::i~f-i-i'^ without purpose at a distance
A boating "^^'itP^^m^^ ' r • r
paradise ^|E^^i^_^ of perhaps a mile from us.
near Calexico slv*^^ Up a^d down, back and forth,
whirling and circling, doub-
ling and countering, rising and falling, they moved, their white
wings glistening and brightening in the sun while at one angle,
and the next, the black tips giving forth an entirely different
eff^ect. It was as if flocks of sunshine and shadow, light and
darkness, were playing at hide-and-seek in the sky. For hours
we saw these moving flocks, and at each fresh sight they
seemed to possess a new grace and beauty.
We found eagles' nests quite common, and in several cases
one of the party climbed up to the nests. We brought away two
eggs only, to determine the species of the eagle, as we did in the
case of several other birds, such as owls, hawks, and a bird the
Indian called a squawk, in onomatopoeic representation of its cry.
That afternoon we reached Sharps, the point in Mexico where
the waters of the river are taken and diverted into the canals of
7.
O
►J
C
C
c
From Yuiiui lo Sultoii Sea 495
the Imperial region. Leaving one of our boats here, we were soon
ghding easily along down the strong current. There was a trifle
of nervousness at first, lest we get too far apart, and one or the
other of us get into trouble, so the order was, " Keep close together,
and listen for each other's signals." Our first rapid gave us quite
a little thrill. It was nothing very great or dangerous, but to hear
the roar and rush, and swish and dash of the water, and to see the
rising and falling, the spray and spume, and the marked descent
of the whole river for fifty feet or more, led us to wonder if we'd
get through all right. Indian Jim at the oars and I with the
steering oar, we sent our boat right into the heart of it, and in a
moment we were rising and falling, tossing and bouncing, from one
wave to another. We shipped a little water, but not enough to
scare us, so it was with bolder hearts we ran the next and the next.
Soon the lookout called, "Two water-tanks ahead," and when
we all arose to see, there loomed before us on the right the tanks
of the power house at Holtvillc. We tied up here, for three of
our party. Brownie, Gripton, and Lea, had to leave us, and Indian
Joe went with them. They took team for Imperial, while Van
.A.nderson, Indian fim, and I were left to run the rapids alone.
The question arose in my mind: Shall we go in two boats or
one .? The square-nosed scow had served us so well I hated to
part with it, so, without consulting the others, I decided to handle
it myself. We started, and almost immediately ran into a
"nasty" place. The railway bridge crosses the Alamo a short
distance from where we were camped. It rests upon piles which
stand obliquely to the course of the river. The result was that
my boat was swept down and struck the piles, swerved into a snag
with a lot of branches which had caught in nearly the same spot,
and came near upsetting. There I was, held fast by the force of
the current, and imprisoned in the arms of the snag. It took
quite a time of pulling, pushing, and cutting before I got loose.
Then on we went again.
That was the beginning of the real fun of the trip. That after-,
noon and the next day we must have run over fifty rapids, some
short, some long, some rough and dangerous, but most of them
just exhilarating and exciting. How one's blood tingled with the
dash and roar, the speed and the tossing, and how one's hands,
496 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
wrists, and arms had to work to keep the boat safe while in the
middle of the rapids! We had no great rocks to contend with,
but something equally dangerous. The rapids were filled A\ith
heavy masses of "nigger-head" clay, and once or twice I got ugly
bumps on these "heads" that shook the boat from end to end and
nearly toppled me head over heels.
In several places the river widened out for half a mile or even a
mile and the flats were covered with ducks, geese, and pelicans.
I think I saw more of these aquatic birds in these two or three days
than I had seen in the whole of my previous life. In some cases
we were allowed to come as near to them as fifty feet, and with a
gun an expert shot could have had his choice out of the
thousands.
V: :■ J-
■i^l^-Ht''.-'S^<
*-*»X.'
*■■■ P ^^*»'i -^ I ^'"a=^
■^^^'sszss^ .=^~-^
Cameron hake
before the igo6 flood
And now we experienced the reality of one of the dangers
against which we had been warned and that I had all along fore-
seen. The boats were about fifty feet apart. We were in the
radius of a great curve. The mad river was here boring under
the bank, which was fully forty feet high. No one who has not
seen the cutting, or literally the auger-like boring power of this
river in such places can believe the extent of its work. It cut in
deeply, and removed the entire foundation of the bank for ten,
fifteen, even twenty feet. Then, without a premonitory w^arning,
the whole bank, for fifteen or twenty feet back, dropped with a
terrific splash into the river. And it fell off as if cut with some
gigantic machine, almost as straight as the cutter slices a bar of
soap. Both boats were almost swamped by the great waves
that ensued, but fortunately neither of us was immediately
From Yuma to Salton Sea 497
under the bank, or this account would have had a more somber
ending.
That night we camped at the deserted shack of a settler who had
"taken up" a homestead. We saw many pathetic evidences of
a woman's presence in the rude and simple efforts to care for a
woman's comfort. Just before the shack, the rapids dashed on
to the sea. Early in the morning we started and for an hour
had hard rowing. The banks were all gone. There was nothino-
but flats over which the river distributed itself, making it very
hard to find the main current. The wind began to blow and ere-
long a perfect gale made waves which added to our difficulties.
Soon I was completely stranded. I had been aground several
times before, but this was permanent. The wind was blowing
furiously and my companions could not hear my shouts, but
fortunately one of them saw my predicament and they ran ashore
and waited. There was but one thing to do. That was for me
to go to them. Jumping into the water, and sinking up almost
to the middle in quicksands, I struggled against the wind to reach
them. Each time I pulled myself out of the treacherous sand
the wind blew me back, and for a while I despaired of making
headway. But keeping desperately at it I succeeded at last in
reaching their boat, where I fell over breathless, speechless,
and exhausted. When I was able to move we all jumped out
into the water and lifted and pushed the boat back to where
the other boat was stranded. There we took out everything of
value, and said our final farewell to it.
But our difficulties were not over. Though the three of us
handled the oars, the six of them made so little headway that two
hours' rowing advanced us not more than half a mile. By this
time the waves were running high and furious, and Jim, the
Indian, got scared. He cried out: "I no like this river. Pretty
soon we tip over and this boat he sink. We no get there."
"Are you scared, Jim .?" I asked.
"No!" he responded quickly, "I no scared, but I no like 'em
this river."
Each time we got into the trough we shipped so much water
that finally I decided to abandon the attempt to cross the sea.
Giving the order, we turned stern to the wind and soon rowed
498 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
over the flats, the water having been blown over them to a depth
of several inches with the wind, and ran ashore opposite a large
volcanic butte that stood out in the heart of the desert.
We anchored the boat as well as we could and then proceeded
to carry everything from the boat to the butte, where, pretty
well above the then level of the sea, we piled them up, covered
them with our bed-canvas and tied them down to the anchoring
rocks.
Then we started, each heavily laden with cameras, canteens,
and food, for the nearest point on the railway. The efflorescing
salts made a yielding crust on the alkali soil in which we sank
over the ankles at every step. One of my ankles was soon cut
through and I suffered intensely. To add to our difficulties
we soon came to the brink of a wide slough, far too deep for us
to ford, and it was impossible to swim across heavy laden as we
were. There was no other course than to go around it, and this
added several weary miles to our tramp. At length, after full
eighteen miles of a walk, wearied out but glad at the accomplish-
ment of our trip, we reached Imperial Junction, from which point
Indian Jim and I went to Yuma, while Van Anderson remained
there all night, taking the morning train for Mecca.
Some ten days later we decided to return to the cache and
obtain our bedding, camera, supplies, etc. If we found the boat
we were to row to some point nearer to the railroad, so that we
should not have so difiicult a task to carry our heavy outfit. To
avoid the eighteen-mile walk I determined to leave from a nearer
station and ford or swim whatever sloughs we came to. It was
hot and blinding when we started and mirages were on every
hand. When we reached the first slough, as it did nut appear
very deep, I waded right in. It took me up to the middle. Soon
we passed the mud volcanoes, fully described in their own chapter.
From here we walked and crossed four more sloughs and at
last reached a wide one which we could not ford. So I decided
I would try to swim across several times and carry our clothes
and the pack, in which was our provisions, on my head. I took
over my own clothes all right, though it was a top-heavy affair as
I had nothing but string to tie the pack on with. I did not do so
well with Van's, for just as I got into the middle of the stream the
From Yuma to Salton Sea
499
awkward bundle made a lurch forward; I had to grab it and was
partially ducked and so was the pack, but I succeeded in getting
it across. For the third pack I took part of our provisions, my
wallet, etc., and wrapped them up. It was a heavier pack than
any of the others, and as I stepped down into the deep water I
went into a hole, over my head in
water. I started to swim and got
part of the way across when my
load lurched and over it toppled.
It was all I could do to hold it in
one hand and swim with the
other, and I was pretty well ex-
hausted when I got to the other
side. I was also nervously ex-
hausted, for I had been writing
for the past three nights
and had not had more
than three hours' sleep
in each twenty-four
hours. The cold water
and wind were chilHne:
me through so that I
was used up. We de-
cided, therefore, to
leave the rest of our goods on the other side, go on to the cache,
get our things and the boat (if fortune favored us that much)
and row back that night and camp where we had left the
pack. Another slough, deep but fordable, though up to the
breast, gave us a thorough wetting. But we were rejoiced finally
at the sight of our cache. The rain had done a little damage
and two mice had made nests in our oatmeal package. All
other things were practically in good order. In the distance the
boat moved to and fro on the water. Careful estimate showed
a rise of about nine inches since we were there. It was hard work
packing our oars, bedding, camera, and supplies back to the boat
over the soft yielding soil of the flats near the sea. At last it was
done. It was nearly sunset. The sun had quite gone before we
reached the mouth of the slough, but we made camp, and, all wet
Resting on the edge of the Salton Sea
500 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
through though we were, we rolled into our blankets — thankful
for them — and went to sleep. In the morning it was even less
pleasant, for it was cool, and all our clothes were wet through. So
we did without them. There was not a shred of anything to
make fire with, so we ate a cold lunch, and then, still naked, got
into our boats and rowed ourselves warm. As we progressed
the sea became very rough, and compelled us to shoot across as
quickly as we could to the nearest point for Volcano station.
Before we landed I became very seasick and was thankful to
get ashore. Here I determined to spend the day, drying out
our bedding, and getting some sleep. We fixed up a canvas
awning on four of our oars and rested there all day. It was
night before I got over feeling so wretched, but when evening
came I began to plan to get away. We had to carry about 300
pounds of stuff to the station, which was fully four miles away.
Van took the camera case and my book and pamphlet case while
I got supper. As the flat was as bare as a bald head of anything
of which I could make a fire, I carried the cofFee-pot, stew-kettle
(into which I had already cut up potatoes and three onions), and
the rest of the provision for supper and breakfast to the old rail-
way track a mile away, where, with abandoned ties, I made
first a good cooking fire and then a camp-fire. I got supper
ready, and it smelled good. Van was a long time coming. I
hollered! No reply. I waited half an hour — an hour longer —
still he didn't come! So I piled on two more ties and ate my supper.
Just as I was finishing I called again. No response! Half an
hour later I shouted, and from the far darkness came his reply.
When, finally, he reached camp, tired out and hungry, I learned
that he had had to cross a dozen deep gullies or arroyos, all of
which were awkward to cross. Not a sign of them could be seen
at a distance, and little until you were almost upon them. The
country is here and there seamed with them and they make walk-
ing with a burden very wearisome as I discovered anew next day.
After Van had had his supper we walked back in the moonlight
to our beds by the sea where our boat was.
It was a wonderful morning when we awoke. It was cloudy and
cool. After breakfast we carried our things to the depot. Each
pack seemed to weigh 350 pounds before we reached the station,
7.
o
o
o
<
From Yuma to Salton Sea 50i
hut persistence and patience got us there at last and our journey
was at an end.
In the former chapter I have told how we afterwards hunted
for the boat hut could not find it. It is now doubtless wandering,
a derelict on the Salton Sea, or is being used by trackmen or
Indians.
A side gorge in the San Jacinto Mountains
502
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The Salton Sea and Its Mystery 503
CHAPTER XXXVI
The Salton Sea and Its Mystery
^O the scientific observer, even, the vastness
of the importance of recent events at the
site of the work of the CaHfornia Develop-
ment Company on the Colorado River, just
on and over the Mexican Boundary Line, is
not apparent. They are not only of na-
tional but of international importance and
consequence. Already the national govern-
ment of Mexico has appointed a commission to report on the
matter, and our own government has instituted thorough and
searching inquiries through its corps of engineers of the U. S.
Reclamation Service.
As a result of the cutting of a small canal — a temporary expe-
dient for relieving a water-shortage caused by the silting of a few
miles of the already existent canal — the body of water of the
whole Colorado River has been absolutely diverted from its
proper channel. Not a single drop flows beyond this new canal
intake. Its floor is as dry as a desert. Where for centuries this
muddy and lazy stream flowed along in silent majesty to the
Gulf of California, there now appears nothing but a dry bed, as
void of water as a desert, and as desolate as the course of a flood
can make it.
Where, on the other hand, for untold years, a salty, dry basin
of an extinct inland sea existed, there is now to be found in the
heart of Southern California an exquisitely beautiful lake, nearly
fifty miles long and in places twenty miles broad. A sea in the
heart of the American Sahara! For this portion of the Colorado
Desert has been declared by the government experts to " have
a more pronounced desert climate than those parts of the Sahara
Desert where regular meteorological observations are made."
504 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
These are startling facts; facts which have an important bearing
upon the development of this interesting portion of our great
Republic.
In its passage across the Salton Basin the main line of the
Southern Pacific was laid at a very low level, and therefore when
the water reached its tracks, transcontinental traffic by this route
for both passengers and freight was seriously threatened. A
shoofly was built around the rising waters, in the hope that they
would soon subside. This was speedily flooded; another was
built only to be submerged in the same way. Then another
and yet another, until, in desperation, the Southern Pacific tore
up as much of its track as was possible in the immediate vicinity
of the water and in April completed forty miles of new track
upon a higher level.
Now (October, igo6), to provide against possible contingencies,
the railway company is planning to place its tracks at a still
higher level.
This is by no means the first time the Salton Basin has been
flooded since its prehistoric evaporation and becoming of a
playa.
When Dr. Veatch visited the mud volcanoes in 1 857 he reported
the Salton Sea — though he did not know it by that name — as
"a vast sheet of crystalline chloride of sodium. Into this lake
the arm of the Colorado, known as New River, discharges itself.
The lake, having no outlet, would probably soon regain its ancient
area if the channel of New River afix)rded a more generous supply
of water."
He refers to the New River as having broken away from the
Colorado only a few years before that time.
Several times between 1857 and 1891 fugitive references may
be found "to overflows of the Colorado causing a rise of water
in the Salton Basin, but it was not until after the New Liverpool
Salt-Works was in active operation that these intermittent risings
caused any uneasiness.
In 1891, on the 23d of June, a large volume of water was found
flowing into the basin some thirty miles south of the salt-works.
Various theories were propounded to account for the unusual
phenomenon, but none being satisfactory, the manager of the
<
A
D
<
cn
O
►J
o
u
The Salton Sea niid Its Mystery .'505
salt-works, Mr. George Dmhrow, determined to investigate.
He found that in the preceding February there had been a
high flood in the Colorado and that, below Yuma, near the
Algodones, it had overflowed its banks. Some of this overflow
water filled up various depressions and remained until the
annual flood, caused by the melting snows, occurred in the
following June. The waters ot this second flow uniting with
those of the February flood forced a large volume into the
north-flowing channel of the Alamo, thus speedily forming a lake
in the Salton Basin ten miles wide by thirty miles long, and
about five feet deep in its deepest part. As this flood soon
evaporated and caused but little trouble no further attention
was paid to it, but when it occurred again in 1905 and rose far
above its former level, causing the destruction of the salt-works
and the submerging of the railway track, it was found necessary
to direct a great deal of attention to it.
The cause of this flood is primarily to be placed upon the imper-
fect financing of the California Development Company.
As a consequence of inadequacy of funds the engineer in plan-
ning for the rapid development of the Imperial Valley was com-
pelled perforce to meet urgent and imperative necessities rather
than perform solid and permanent work. Two thousand dollars
were compelled to be spread over work that required ten thousand.
The results were disastrous. In the winter of 1903-4 the company
was unable to supply all demands for water and this caused a
crop failure on some lands. A hue and cry was at once raised;
agitation was begun for government ownership; sensational
attacks were made on the company by the press; damage suits
amounting to ^400,000 were threatened or brought. As was
easy to foresee, this ruined the credit of the company and still
further hampered its operations.
During the summer floods of 1904 the first four miles of the
canal from the river was silted to such an extent that it would
not furnish enough water for the needs of the coming winter
grain crop. With the machinery at their disposal the company
had insufficient time to dredge this four miles. One alternative
presented itself. They had either to face another water shortage,
which meant ruin to many settlers as well as themselves, or resort
506
The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
to what had several times been done before elsewhere, viz., cut
another channel betiveen the river and canal at a poiiit below the
silted jour miles. The distance across was only 3,300 feet; two
weeks' work for the dredger. The fall of the canal for eight miles
below this point was five-tenths of a foot per mile. From here
the canal dropped eight feet in the next three miles, but as
the river from this proposed lower intake had a fall of approxi-
mately one foot to the mile, the danger of retrogression of grades
in the canal and a change in the channel of the river seemed very
remote, and it was decided, as the least of two evils, to cut
the channel through and put in a controlling gate later if they
had funds sufficient; if not, then to close it by a brush-dam
before the approach of the summer floods. There is the cause
of the trouble in a
nutshell, — lack of
proper funds and
^w^^^^
Stone corrals
at Mountain Springs
the choice between bringing ruin on thousands of settlers
through lack of water for their crops and the cutting of a tem-
porary canal to supply this lack. This is where the nub of
criticism has lain. The necessity for controlling head-gates at
the heads of canals is recognized by all engineers, was fully
recognized here by Mr. C. R. Rockwood, the chief engineer,
but time was limited and ruin for thousands was before him.
What could he do ? He did what any rational man in similar
circumstances would have done,— he took the chances. Had
nothing unforeseen happened practically nothing would have been
said. Men the world over are always taking desperate chances.
It should be here explained, also, that these chances had been
taken without damage on four previous occasions, h must be
remembered that these men were grappling with a new and
The Saltoii Sea and Its Mystery 507
gigantic problem. As in all such cases, emergencies arose which
had to be settled as they arose and in the best manner possible
under the circumstances. When the original head-gate was put in
at the first intake by the well-known irrigationist, Chaffee, who
was then the director of the company's practical affairs, he cl:.imed
that he could not follow Mr. Rockwood's plan which required
the floor of the gate to be at lOO feet, even, above sea-level. He
said that on account of the difficulty of sinking the floor in the
quicksand it could not be placed so low, and without Mr. Rock-
wood's knowledge or consent built it so that its effective floor
level was 105 feet. The low water elevation of the river opposite
this gate is 108.2, or only 3.2 feet above the floor. Sufficient
water at this depth could not be forced through the gate to pre-
vent silting of the canal below.
To overcome this difficulty a "by-pass" was cut each year
around the head-gate in order to secure a sufficient flow, and
these by-passes, or temporary expedients, were always closed up
before high water.
The canal now cut below the silted-up portion was simply
another of these temporary expedients, and had nothing unusual
occurred nothing would have been said except praise for the engi-
neer whose daring had saved a large population and enterprise
from ruin. In this case, however, the Unprecedented happened.
A flood came in December, followed at short intervals by others
of constantly increasing volume. The canal banks near the
river were washed away and the canal greatly enlarged. Strong
efforts were made at this time to close up the break. Piling was
driven in, the size generally used being 6x6 with a few 8x8 and
lox 10 with brace piling to hold the sacks of earth and the brush
in place. The high water and lack of adequate supplies retarded
the work, though twice the break was repaired to within about
six feet. Just at the critical juncture the hoisting machine of
the dipper-dredger, which was working day and night throwing
in dirt, broke, and during the half day that it took to repair it
the flood washed out a hole large enough to contain the whole
dredger. The time thus lost could not be regained, and in
Los Angeles, at the head oflSce, it was deemed that all the
damage that could be done was already accomplished and it
508 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
was decided to allow the break to remain as it was until low
water.
This was a fatal mistake. Had the engineer's solicitations
been heeded and one more determined effort made to forward
immediately the needed supplies the opening could have been
closed with comparative ease and the great future damage pre-
vented. For, as the floods continued, the temporary canal was
not only growing wider but deeper. From an original fifty feet
wide and five feet deep it grew to several hundred, and the force
of the great volume of water scoured out the channel to consider-
able depth.
In April, 1905, the head of the Irrigation Company saw his
serious mistake. He and the chief engineer began to solicit the
Southern Pacific Company for funds, offering them a strong
hand in the management of the Development Company if they
would take hold.
While these negotiations were pending, another effort was made
to close up the break, but it failed and was abandoned in the fol-
lowing month.
In the meantime the water users in the Imperial Valley known
as Imperial Water Company No. I, were growing more and
more nervous as each day continued with the water pouring into
the Salton Sea. They did not fully understand the situation, and
as is well known, unknown dangers are generally more distressing
than those we understand. At their earnest solicitation, backed up
by an offer of ^5,000 advance in funds for the purpose, the presi-
dent of the company, against the advice of his engineers, decided
to make another attempt in May. The engineers argued that an
attempt against a certainly rising river would inevitably result in
failure. The Southern Pacific advanced some material to aid in
this effort (for which it has since been paid), and under the direction
of Mr. C. N. Perry, one of the engineers, the work was begun.
It consisted of a double row of sixty-foot piles. The rows were
placed twenty feet apart and the piles driven at five-foot intervals.
The space between the rows was filled with fascines weighted down
with sacks of earth. The summer floods were rising, however,
and before this work could be completed the waters rose over the
banks of the river, making it impossible to get either brush for
Tlie Saltoii Sea and Its Mystery 509
fascines or earth to fill the sacks, and all work was temporarily
abandoned, and on Mr. Rockvvood's return from the East, June
14, it was given up completely.
The accompanying diagram will give the location of the intakes.
Intake No. l is where the old head-gate was placed, which soon
became choked up with detritus and was used only during high
water, as at low water it was some four or five feet below water
level. Intake No. 2 was cut on the Mexican side of the boundary,
to conform with a provision of the Mexican charter to the Irriga-
tion Company. It was practically unused. Intake No. 3 is the
"temporary cut" which has caused all the trouble. It was the
intention of Chief Engineer Rockwood, when this cut was made,
to place therein, as speedily as funds would allow, the necessary
head-gate required, so that this would have become the permanent
intake, properly under control, required by the Mexican conces-
sion. It was also his intention, constantly expressed, to construct
a permanent and sufficient head-gate at or near Intake No. i ; and,
as will be seen shortly, these two are the major propositions
upon which the company are now vigorously working.
As a matter of important history I deem it wise to briefly recount
the later efforts made to close the cut. From the second diagram
the location of the respective endeavors is shown.
When work on closing up Intake No. 3 began in May, 1905,
the cut was about 100 feet in width. When the water subsided
it had grown to 800 feet in width, and was still carrying about
14,000 cubic feet of water per second, with a depth at one point
of twenty-tour feet.
On July 18 the Yuma gage showed 1 2 1.8 feet, with 18,000
cubic feet flowing through the intake, and only 7,000 passing
down the old river channel to the gulf.
A new attempt was now to be made to control the water. A
site was chosen a mile above the former one. By reference to
the diagram, it will be seen that an island divides the Colorado
River channel opposite Intake 3. This island is about 3,000
feet long by 1,200 feet wide. The plan now proposed was to
construct a light jetty of piling and brush, beginning at a point
on the Mexican side marked A, and continuing to a point on this
island marked B. The idea in this effort was to control the river
510 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
by the formation of a sand-bar behind the brush, thereby diverting
the main portion of the £ow to the Arizona or eastern channel
of the island. The experiment failed. In the meantime prepara-
tions were under way for a more ambitious undertaking. In
August materials were ordered for the new attempt. This
involved the construction of a gate at Intake 3 large enough to
pass the entire flow of the river at low stage, after building which
it was the intention
CALIFORNIA •;
MEXICO
IhlTAKE Mo I
INTAKE No 2,
<
o
to construct a perma-
nent dam across the
rapidly widening
"cut." When this
dam was secure the
gate would have been
closed, thus raising
the water and throw-
ing it down the old
<
channel. This gate
it was proposed to
make the one re-
quired by the Mexi-
can government.
The floor was to be
of concrete three feet
in thickness on a pile
foundation. The
superstructure was to be of wood
temporarily, but ultimately to
be replaced by concrete.
A two-yard dipper-dredge was at once set to work excavating
a big channel to carry the water around the Rockwood Gate site,
as maiked E on Diagram 2, and the steamer ran around this pass
while work on the dam progressed. This consisted of piles
driven at the point marked 5 on Diagram 2. These were taken
completely across the channel, capped, and a runway built on
them from one side to the other. The steamer hauled gravel
for a- week to make a bottom around the piling, and the cutting
of 150 tons of brush for the fascines was rapidly proceeding. All
"No. I Diagram
showing location of
different
canal intakes
m
P
O
o
O
The Salton Sea and Its Mystery oil
MEXICO
the material was on the ground for the new structure, and it seemed
on a fair way to be successful, when orders came from headquar-
ters to stop the work. The water was rising so rapidly at Salton
that some other expedient must be tried at once requiring less
time, and thereby saving the complete washing away of the railway
tracks. This endeavor is known as No. 5.
The Southern Pacific engineers proposed the construction of
a pile-dam across the west channel, near the head of the island at
the point marked 6 on Dia-
gram 2 in order to force the
water down the east chan-
nel. The w'est channel was
here 650 feet wide and about
10 feet in maximum depth.
A dam was to be buih ot
woven wire cable mats,
filled in with bundles of
brush and barbed wire an-
chored in the river with
piling. \\'hen completed it
would have to withstand a
water pressure of sixteen
feet. Work was begun in
the middle of the channel,
and with two pile-drivers
and a large force of men
rushed as much as possible.
All progressed favorably until the piling and mats reached within a
hundred feet of the shore on both sides. As the work was nearing
completion water was raised in the old river channel on the west
side fully fourteen inches. No matter how much weight was put
on the mats to prevent scouring, the water would get under them
and cut away the channel. The island, on which all hopes
depended, began to wash away. On the twenty-ninth of No-
vember the severest flood since February, 1891, swept down the
river with resistless force, and carried away a portion of the work
and much of the equipment. The island was completely flooded,
and 240 workmen, thirteen wagons, a car-load of hay, another of
iVo. 2 Diagram
showing location
of the
different endeavors
to turn the wa
of the
Colorado River
512 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
provisions, and thirty-eight head of horses had to be transferred
to a barge instanter, or they, too, would have been swept away.
This was the sixth and last effort prior to the one upon which
work is now progressing. The present plan includes the con-
struction of a permanent head-gate at point marked M on Diagram
I. This is four miles up the river from the lower intake, and on
the United States side of the boundary. The anchoring founda-
tion is solid lock, and the structure is of reinforced concrete. It
is 185 feet wide and twenty-six feet high above the sill. The
floor is placed eleven feet below the low-water mark and four
feet below the river's bed. It has 154 feet of water openings, and
at the lowest water stage of the river can pass 7,000 cubic feet
per second.
It is composed of twelve reinforced concrete cells about sixteen
feet wide by fourteen feet high. These are filled with rock,
gravel, and sand, which will be fully ample to make the structure
stable, so that it will withstand the pressure of the heavy floods.
On March 20 the excavations were all completed, the concrete
work actually begun, and in September everything was com-
pleted and the massive gate ready for service. It will carry 7,000
feet of water per second, while the flow of the Colorado at low
water is only about 5,000 feet, and sometimes as low as 3,500 feet
per second. The building of this gate implied the widening and
deepening of the old canal, which is but eighty feet wide, and at
low water can carry but two feet in depth. This is being enlarged
to 170 feet wide and eleven feet deep (see dotted line A^, Dia-
gram i) below low water. This work involved the excavation
of 1,800,000 yards of earth.
The permanent work at Intake 3 was resumed near the point
where it was abandoned last year (Diagram i, P) with the neces-
sary enlargements and alterations caused by the changes brought
about in the interval by the power of the stream. This is prac-
tically a resumption of endeavor No. 5. The floor of the new
gate is 200 feet wide and sixty feet long. It is placed eleven feet
below the extreme low-water level in a quicksand formation, and
anchored to 533 foundation piles. Aprons thirty feet in length
extend from the floor to the coffer-dam wall, and wings 100 feet
in length extend up and down the stream. Nearly 600,000 feet of
The Salton Sea and Its Mystery oi3
kimher, including i,68o lineal feet of sheet piling wall, six inches
thick, driven tioni twelve to twenty-two feet, are used in its con-
struction and protective works. Eight hundred and fifteen round
piles are used in the foundations, wings, and diversion jetty.
Ihe earthwork in the approaches to the gate involved the
moving ot t20,ooo cuhic yards of earth in excavating an average
distance of 350 feet, and the fill in the diversion dam and levees
contains 59,600 cubic yards of earth, 2,000 cubic yards of brush,
and 20,000 grain-sacks filled with gravel.
It was decided on the seventeenth of December, 1905, to resume
this work. New material had to be ordered, as all the original
supply had been removed to carry on the work which the Novem-
ber flood had destroyed. On the eighth of January, 1906, work
on the walls of the coffer-dam began. This is 250 x 120 feet, and
contains 740 sheet piles 6x12 inches, twenty-two feet long. It
was completed and the earth within excavated on the fifteenth of
February. An eight-inch and a six-inch centrifugal pump w^ere
set to work, and lowered the water as far as was necessary in two
days' time. The eight-inch pump kept it at a proper level, while
a large force of men worked day and night.
While work on this gate, known as the Rockwood Gate, was
progressing, equally energetic preparations were being made for
work on the great dam to close the rapidly widening cut near by.
When the cut was first made it was fifty feet wide and five feet
deep. In November, 1905, it was 300 feet wide; in March, 1906,
650 feet; in April, over a thousand, and in September, w^hen the
actual work of closing began, over 4,000 feet. A railroad spur
was built, thirteen miles long, from Pilot Knob to bring down
solid rock to help fill up the gap; thousands of men and teams
were engaged, and day and night the work never ceased.
The Rockwood Gate was completed, and the pile-driving, mat-
laying, and rock and earth dumping began simultaneously on
each side of the cut, when, on Thursday, October li, an extra
flood of water came rushing down the river and carried away
part of the gate. This, at first, seemed another almost fatal
blow, but, with resolution, the engineers hammered away, repaired
a railway trestle that crossed the river below the gate, and began to
fill up the gate space with solid rock. Every railroad quarry
514 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
within a distance of 300 miles is supplying rock which is being
hauled to the spot as fast as engines can take it. A second trestle
is being built beside the first to aid in the speedy dumping of
the rock.
As an additional precaution a railway spur is being built to the
concrete gate, Intake No. i, so that should it be necessary another
dam will be constructed across the river at that point to divert
the whole of the Colorado through the gate and thus into the canal,
while the work of closing the break below is completed.
Here, then, the matter stands at the present moment of writ-
ing, October 20, 1906. The concrete gate at hitake No. i is
completed. The canal from that point is being widened and
deepened. The break in the Rockwood Gate is being filled in
with rock. The gap near the Rockwood Gate is being closed
on both sides, and if the dam holds the great work will be done,
and the Colorado River once more tamed, bitted, and controlled.
It was in March, 1906, that I visited the Salton Sea for the first
time since its last uprising. There, with the water flowing over
the railway tracks, I saw miles of telegraph-wires stretching
over a sea where once was the dry Le Conte playa, the telegraph-
poles standing in several feet of water.
It was with a singular feeling that I saw the slowly oncoming
waters drive back the tokens of an advancing civilization. When
the railway tracks were laid they went directly through a large
portion of the below-sea-level area. The flooding therefore was
inevitable.
As I stood there on the half-submerged track at Mortmere,
I read the now neglected railway-siding sign, "Mortmere To
San Francisco 630 7-10 miles," standing in several feet of water.
Close by was a group of tules, several budding cottonwood trees,
willows and arrow-weed, formed by the overflow from the useless
wells. The wind blew the waves between the track and the sign,
and the wash fell upon the ear with rhythmic regularity. With
calm complacency the sun sent its glistening path of burnished
gold over to the nether edge of the sea, while mocking-birds and
linnets sang as merrily as if the washing away of forty miles of
railroad track and the submerging of the telegraph-wires were an
ordinary occurrence.
The Salton Sea and Its Mystery oi.5
But that wash of the sea. As I sat down and listened to it ni)'
thoughts rambled away from the desert. I was no longer in a
waste region. I was on the sea, where monster freight steamers
and sailing vessels shouldered their way through the blue waves.
I heard the merry music of the orchestra on the pleasure steamers,
and the dull thud of the engines and the throb of the revolving
screw of a great transatlantic liner. For a long time I thus sat
until in my dreams I heard the voice of my friend asking how
much longer I intended to sit there. And then I found that the
"wash of the desert sea" had ltd m\' mind captive and there in
the heart of the Colorado Desert I had been enjoying again the
experiences of past transatlantic voyages. A sea in the desert!
How strange! It was wonderful, unique, never to be forgotten.
•^^r.
The march of the Salton Sea
In June and |ul\' the flood was so high that both Calexico and
Mexicali suffered considerably, houses and stores being actually
washed into the widened and deepened channel of New River.
A railway is now built from Pilot Knob to the intake, a distance
ot twelve miles, so as to render the handling of the necessary sup-
plies much more easy, and also to convey rock, of which the Knob
is composed, to act as a filler for the dam. Everything is now
ready waiting for the lowering of the water. Men and teams
in great number are on hand. The intention is to have piles
ready for driving, wire mats ready for lowering into position, and
begin the work on both sides at once, gradually narrowing the
channel until the two portions of the dam will meet in the center
and the rush of water will cease.
516 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
It was early in March we made the trip from Yuma down the
overflow to the Salton Sea, and the latter part of the month when
we went back to the sea to get our boat and supphes. On
June II and 12 I again visited the sea with the hope of finding
my anchored boat. A naphtha launch and its engineer had been
kindly placed at my disposal, and with my assistant, Mr. Van
Anderson, we practically circumnavigated the whole sea. The
night of my arrival I slept at the new Salton station. Everything
was still and silent when I went to bed, save the soft purring of the
telegraph-wires. But during the night the waves began to roar
and by morning one could easily have thought himself by the side
of the ocean. The sea,
which was without a ripple
the night before, save here
and there where a fish
jumped out of the water,
was now very rough.
On the Salton Sea the
prevailing winds are from
the west, and these winds
generally come up after
sunrise. The lake, though
it looks quiet enough from
the distance, is then lashed
into heavy waves, many of
them with white caps, and a heavy rolling ground-swell adds
to the discomfort and hindrance of the rower unwary enough
to be out in a boat at such a time.
During the day it is hard for a stranger to tell where the sea
merges into the mirages. None but a trained eye can detect the
change, and that more because of perfect familiarity with the
metes and bounds of the sea than because of any real and per-
ceptible difference between real and mirage water.
But when the sun goes down behind the San Jacinto range,
shooting its darts and floods of gold through narrow peaks and
wide canyon gorges, then, then is the time to sit and enjoy the
exquisite and placid beauty of the Salton Sea. Geneva is not
more picturesque, save for its fringes of trees, nor Galilee more
The pelicans of Pelican Island,
Salton Sea
<
O
The Salton Sea and Its Mystery
17
blue, and Windermere, save for its historic memories, would he
less attractive. Even Tahoe, superh mountain lake of the Hi(j;h
Sierras, needs to look well to its laurels, for this parvenu modern
sea, — small reminder of its grand and extensive prehistoric an-
cestor,— desert, foot-hill, and mountain surrounded, has its own
fascinations and charms, some of them peculiar, some weird,
some fantastic, some mysterious, hut some exquisitely beautiful
that take hold of the esthetic senses as well as the imagination
and hold them in bondage.
The name, Salton Sea, has had much to do in furthering the
false ideas that people have had of its being a salt-water lake.
When the waters of the Colorado first began to pour in down the
Nesting pelicans, Pelican Island, Salion Sea
beds of the New and Alamo Rivers, the vast, uncovered, and
loosened up beds of salt at the New Liverpool Salt-Works natu-
rally made the water very saline. But as the inflow continued,
the proportion of salt in solution became much less, so that now
one may drink of it without inconvenience. Often on the des-
erts of Arizona and New Mexico have I had to drink water twice
or thrice as brackish as this of the Salton.
A little incident observed by Mr. Van Anderson illustrates the
pathetic struggle for life such untoward events bring upon even
the lower animals. As the launch was cruising among the par-
tially submerged mesquites near Fig Tree John's, he observed,
clinging to the uppermost branches of a mesquite, with the waters
not a foot away, a poor, starved-looking kangaroo-rat. Its head
518 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
bent forward, with protruding eyes fixed intently upon the water,
we had to shout twice ere it looked up and then only to give to
us a momentary, pitiful look.
How long it had been there we have no means of knowing.
Its fate, however, is certain unless some friendly log comes float-
ing by and affords an opportunity tor escaping to the dry land.
Otherwise the poor little creature will undoubtedly stay until
it either falls into the water through fatigue and want of food, or
it is submerged by the rising tide.
When the Salton Sea first began to rise, ducks, geese, mud-
hens, sea-gulls, and pelicans appeared literally by the thousands.
It was not long, however, before the ducks and geese disap-
peared, and only the birds unfit for food remained. These also
left when the flood subsided, but in December, 1905, and Jan-
uary, igo6, great quantities returned, and the pelicans still re-
main, having taken possession of the newly made island, near
to where we first cached our supplies, which they have made
their nesting and breeding place.
When our launch approached we saw thousands of pelicans
sitting on the rough and irregular slopes of the island. They
had scooped out small basins in the gravel and rocky places
and therein had deposited their eggs. As we landed they re-
luctantly flew away, almost hiding the sky as they passed over
us. Eggs by the thousand were to be seen, from one to five in
a nest, though generally there were but two. In a number
of nests the young were already hatched and a more hideous-
looking set of bald-bodied creatures I never saw, their large
heads and heavy bills adding to their awkward appearance.
In the distance the flocks of older birds had settled, making the
sea white and dazzling with their clean and well-kept plumage.
Will this newly formed Pelican Island remain an island, or
will it cease to be one ? It can cease to be an island by the
subsidence of the waters that made it into one, or it can cease to
be an island by being completely submerged by the inflow of moie
water. The question, which will it be ? will soon be answered.^
^ A despatch from the author, dated November 5, 1906, states that practically all the
water has been turned into its old course by the dam at Rockwood Gate.
o
o
a;
G
o
u
z
o
<
o
o
What the Desert Offers to the Invalid
CHAPTER XXXVII
What the Desert Offers to the Invalid
'F what I have aheady written in the pages of this book
has not thoroughly convinced the unprejudiced reader
that the desert is a wonderful natural restorer to health,
nothing I can specially say will have that effect.
^» The purity of the atmosphere, the healing properties
"*»^?! of the desert plants, the freedom from all ordinary
infection, the desiccating and aseptic qualities ot direct
sunlight, the absence of all city distractions, — these and a score
of other equally potent factors all make for health.
Indio has long been heralded as a specially healthful place.
The discovery of the pure and delicious artesian water was an
additional factor in its favor. A few years ago Mr. N. O. Nelson
of Leclaire, Illinois, well known as an employer of labor who
believed in copartnership and profit-sharing with his employees,
bought one hundred and sixty acres just northeast of Indio,
and there established a Health Camp. It consists of tents with
board floors and wings, and for a trifling sum any one may come
and have the privilege of using them. A meal tent is also es-
tablished, where, except in the hotter months of summer, meals
are served of good, healthful quality at the minimum of price.
The camp has its own water supply from an artesian well on
the farm. Several cows also are kept and plenty of good fresh
milk supplied to the invalids. As yet the camp is a drain upon
Mr. Nelson's purse, which he gladly bears for the benefit it is
to those who would not fare so well without it.
But a large dream I have long cherished is that a sanitarium
for those who are in the earlier stages of pulmonary and bron-
chial affections should be established, where a small fruit farm
would give a little light employment each day to the sick ones,
w'here pleasant companionship would be possible, healthful
520 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
amusements provided, both indoors and out, excellent meals of
the right kinds served and everything done that could be done
to give to those w^ho were just beginning to suffer from these
evils all the natural benefits of the desert, with the needful medi-
cal and home care.
That such a sanitarium will ultimately be established I have
both hope and faith, when the man or woman is found who
deems help to suffering humanity a good enough investment for
a score or two of thousands of dollars. I know where devoted
men and women of the medical profession, and good nurses of
both sexes, can be found to conduct such an establishment were
it founded and financed, and erelong, I fervently believe, the
needful in money will not be lacking.
Suggestions for the Desert Tenderfoot 521
CHAPTER XXXVIII
Suggestions for the Desert Tenderfoot
O be a "tenderfoot" anywhere. is uncomfortable,
irritating, and sometimes disastrous. To be one
on the desert is often to court disaster and even
death.
In the first place the tenderfoot should never
take his first desert experience in summer. Let
him begin in winter when it is cooler and there
is less danger from scarcity of water. In starting out from
the railway afoot, with burros or driving, be sure and know all
that you can possibly learn of your roads. Get maps drawn if
possible. Know the places where other roads turn off and
where water is to be had.
But I wish to make suggestions only for the desert tramper,
who goes alone or with companions, and with one faithful burro
on which he packs his unpretentious outfit. He is going away
from the beaten track, out on some of the trail trips I have writ-
ten about herein.
The only personal necessaries for a desert trip are comb (no
brush), towels, soap, toothbrush, and pocket-knife. It is well
also for each man to see that he has knife and fork, spoon, and
agate-ware cup and plate. These can be kept in a small canvas
sack. All heavy personal equipments must be resolutely ex-
cluded.
A little strong twine is often convenient in one's hip pocket.
In starting out on a warm day don't be prevailed upon to leave
your coat with the idea that it will be so hot on the desert that
you will not need it. As a rule the mornings are cool, some-
times cold, and changes of temperature on the desert are so
marked as to often cause great inconvenience, especially to one
not acclimated.
522 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
For clothing, a strong khaki or corduroy suit, with plenty of
pockets tor note-book, etc., is good. See that every pocket is
extra strong, so that if hings are picked up and put into them
they will not give way. In the coat it is well to have pockets
with flaps that button down, so that if one sheds his coat and puts
it on the burro's pack it can be tied loosely on the outside, handy
to get at, with little fear of losing the contents.
Wear shoes with tops to them that lace up so as to keep gravel
and sand out. If you expect to do any tramping be sure and
have plenty of hobnails put into your shoes. Ordinary leather
soles are cut to pieces on some of the granite gravel of the desert
in a week's time. Take strong strips of buckskin for laces,
and always have an extra pair along.
Take along a case of my rattlesnake remedies and one of the
pamphlets in which I describe the action of the poison and how
to overcome it. An ounce ot prevention is better than a pound
of cure, but where one can't be sure of prevention he can at
least be forearmed against danger.
Each man should have his own canteen, be personally respon-
sible for it, and stick to it as closely as he possibly can. Never
leave a man without a canteen of water, unless he is where a
supply is to be had.
It is always well to have a good map of the region in which
you are to travel. Of some parts of the desert mountains the
Geological Survey has published maps, but for the worst portions
— those east and southeast from the railway — the best map I
know is the one made expressly for this volume.
For the stock, provide a pair of hobbles for each animal, with
an extra pair in case one is lost or injured.
See that pack ropes are new and strong. Take an extra one.
Tie-ropes the same, W'ith an extra one or two. Provide also
nose-sacks to feed grain to mules or burros. These can be made
by slitting down each side of a gunny-sack, leaving the two outer
edges as strings to tie over the animal's ears. These take up less
room than leather or canvas nose-sacks.
Take a small pot of ointment for saddle-galls or wounds.
Enough grain to give each animal a quart-feed three times a
day for the whole trip (if possible).
SuiTirestions to the Desert Tenderfoot 523
*&&
I suppose every camp has its own rules, but there are some
that strike me as of universal application. Anyhow they are
the invariable rules of my camps, wherever they may be.
On a camping trip there must be but one boss.
Obedience to that boss must be prompt, effective, and cheerful.
Kicking, complaining, whining are absolutely forbidden under
penalty of being sent back. A whining companion on a camp-
ing trip is an unmitigated nuisance. He is as the pear blight
which kills both leaf and fruit; as the scale which covers the
orange and its leaves with a hideous black smut which smothers
the lite of the tree as well. The whimperer's whines literally
cover the mind and soul of his companions with a blackness that
can be felt and he kills all the spontaneity, the joy, the pleasure
of the party. If a man can't accept the hardships of a trip without
playing the baby, send him back home on the instant. I am merci-
less with such mortals, for I have found by long years of painful
experience that to humor the whimperer, to endeavor to please
or conciliate him, to try to make things easier, is but to add another
lash to the whip with which he scourges you. Like jealousy,
the more tolerant you are of whimpering the worse it becomes.
The best plan is to kill it at once.
Everybody feels hardship, but the man bears it and says nothing,
except perhaps to laugh at it. 1 he whimperer sits and pities
himself and then rails at misfortune, at his comrades, at himself,
at everything and everybody because he didn't stay at home.
Then, ye gods, is the time to rise and smite him hip and thigh.
No matter at what trouble or expense, send him home!
In saddling the burros let every man learn to do his share.
The first thing is to know how to put a saddle-blanket on properly.
Remember it is to be between your animal's back and his heavy
load, all da\-, up and down all kinds of places. There must be
no wrinkles or creases, and the saddle must rest easily upon it.
In packing the burros remember that each side must be about
equal in weight. Study this thoughtfully and make the loads
in the kyacks balance as nearly as possible. This avoids saddle-
sagging, chafing, and the possibility of the saddle's turning.
Learn to throw every kind of a hitch that will keep your pack
on the most securely. I know three or four hitches equal to the
524 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
much vaunted "diamond." Get an expert to teach you all he
knows and go on learning.
Each man should fold up his bedding as speedily as possible
in the morning that it may be ready for packing when the burros
or mules are saddled.
Help all you can to make an early start. One hour before
seven in the morning is worth three hours after two in the after-
noon.
As a rule things pertaining to the commissary are determined
by the boss. But one or two things it is well to remember.
It often saves one from making unreasonable requests. In pack-
ing remember to place everything handy. Have a place for
everything and keep it there, so that if needs be or emergencies
arise, you can get it certainly at a moment's notice.
Then, too, in making ties remember they have to be untied.
Make every knot with the thought, how can this be best made
secure so that it can be untied the easiest ?
Open no canned goods that cannot be eaten at one meal.
Canned is pronounced "condemned" after one meal.
Cut not a slice of bread more than can be eaten.
Let each man cut his own piece of cheese.
Food waste in camp is a thing to be abhorred and unforgiven.
Never be extravagant with water, and never throw away poor
water "in expectation" of getting better. Keep what you have
until the better water is actually before you.
On reaching camp at night always look out for a place to sleep
as early as possible. It is not always easy to find a good spot
after dark. Your blankets placed on a spot, or your hat, is the
camp notice of location. and is always respected.
Where there is a party, let each man do his camp duty promptly,
as for instance on arrival at camp, the gathering of wood, the
building of fire, the unpacking of animals, etc. Much friction
is saved where one man doesn't have to wait until a lazy or indiffer-
ent man does what he should have done promptly.
If you are keeping notes of the rip, seize every opportunity
to write them up. There is nothing more deceptive and elusive
than yesterday's notes written to-morrow. Write up religiously
each night before going to bed.
Suggestions to the Desert Tenderfoot 525
When sleep time comes be sure you are in peace and harmony
Vvith all your fellow campers and the world at large. Quit
talking when others are trying to sleep. Be thoughtful for them.
They may need more or earlier sleep than you. Respect every-
thmg mothers that ministers to their health, comfort, and legitimate
pleasure, and others will be likely to do the same by you. Lie
down to sleep then in peace and content. Don't fidget and
don't be afraid. See that you have all the blankets you are
allowed to take, for what you don't need over you, you can put
under you. If it grows cold during the night, have your blankets
so arranged that in a moment you can get in "lower down" and
thus have another covering over you,
You will sleep as you never sleep indoors, and if you avoid
eatmg and drinking too much your day's tramp or ride will give
you dreamless sleep. You will stretch out, think a few moments,
sleep a very short time (it will seem) and to-morrow will have come.
i-^v-'
Indian school in Banning reservation
526
The Lure of the Desert
527
CHAPTER XXXIX
The Lure of the Desert
HE desert calls with insistent voice to many and
diverse minds. It has a fascination, a charm
that grows more potent the more one is subject to
its influence. To average persons this attractiveness
is a mystery, — the desert to them is everything but
attractive. And it cannot be denied that, at times,
it is terrible and appalling. It is a giant monster,
cruel and bloodthirsty, hungry tor men and women, whom it
slays as ruthlessly as the giants of a dream slay all who stand
in their way. Its mountains are sometimes the restraining, con-
fining walls of a dreadful prison; its springs, — alkali, bitter, and
nauseating; its sand plains, — traps for the unwary, where no
one can wander w^ithout getting lost; its mirages, — devilish con-
trivances to lure men where, tortured with consuming thirst,
they are tantalized to death by visions of living springs that
disappear as they seek to drink ; while piles of bleaching
bones, grinning skulls, and shapeless masses on which revolting
vultures are still making their frightful banquets, cry out to the
fainting spirits and tell of the fate that awaits and will soon over-
take them.
Even a cursory study of the desert reveals a place of tears, a
place of sorrows, pains, anguish, and distress, a place of travail
and birth, a place o( delirium and death. Tears enough have
fallen upon it to make a river; the groans and cries of the dying
have piled up higher than the surrounding mountains; and
curses, loud and heavy, have penetrated deeper than the hidden
water supply that flows far under its surface.
So the desert stands before us as a place of contradictions, a
place of sharply defined contrasts. In its physical contour and
its surroundings this is self-evident. Here as nowhere else are
528 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
to be seen and felt the contrasts of height and depth, ot hght
and shadow, of heat and coldness, of barrenness and fertility,
of aboriginal man and his most cultivated brother, of primitive
agricultural methods and the most advanced. Here are the most
prickly trees and shrubs clothed in the most perfect of earthly
blossoms, sent by the good God to give the desert hell some of
the joy of His floral heaven. Here are the most deadly reptiles
clothed in silky and luminous garments of superlative pattern,
and animals the swiftest and most agile, as the antelope, deer,
mountain lion, and mountain-sheep, and the most slow, as
the turtle and the lazy heloderma. In everything the desert
stretches wide, expands far, reaches high, descends low. It is
all-inclusive, all-embracing, and so it calls forth homage of every
thinkine and sentient heart that is willing to come under its
influence.
In the desert I find myself continuall)- asking the question:
Is it a vestal virgin, capable ot all the rich beauty and glorious
fullness of a completed life, or is it an old woman, worn out,
hideous, and ugly, after a life the sweetness and beauty of which
have been burned out by evil passions ?
Sometimes it seems the one, sometimes the other. In the
early morn when all is bright and beautiful, glorious and in-
vigorating, one feels as the morning stars must feel when they
sing together in very exuberance at the joy of being, and then,
when fierce noontide with its burning, scorching heat falls upon
the wearied body, all life seems gone, all vigor, all joy.
At times the desert speaks to the soul and says: Here all is
stable and firm. Body, mind, and soul alike can find rest. The
mountains are immovable, the canyons are cut forever, the
sandy stretches can never change, the desert distances can never
be brought nearer. Then comes the whirling sand-storm, the
fierce cloudburst, the turbulent and destructive river, the earth-
quake, and everything in the desert speaks of change. Here is
nothing stable. Every created thing must journey on to the
goal set by God.
That preacher has not yet appeared on earth who can speak
to the human heart as forcefully as the desert speaks. Many a
\\orld-famed pulpit orator has given forth many an error, — "the
Tlio Lure of tlie Desert 529
blind leading the blind," — but the desert never gives out a
false note. In its vocal silence it compels every human soul
back upon itself, back to God. Ihcn Truth, pure and unadul-
terated, flows into the empty soul and men become strong as
were Moses, Elijah, Jesus, and Mahomet, after their desert
experiences.
Then, too, the desert typifies life. It leads you on to know
more. Satisfied or dissatisfied, content or discontent, joyous or
sorrowful, peaceful or restless, you cannot stop, you cannot
cease, you cannot be still. The solitude, full ot wild and weird
mysteries, beckons to you. The mountains in their grim aus-
terity call you. The canyons in their studious secrecy whet
your curiosity. You must see; you must learn; you must know.
Though you have suffered in the past, though the journeyings
have been full of weary labor, though you have been well nigh
parched with thirst, almost dead with fatigue, often lost and
oftener distressed with fears of being lost, you are overpowered
and overwhelmed with a desire to continue, to search for more,
to see, know, experience all there is. All, though it be terrible;
ALL, though it mean suffering; ALL, though with it comes
Death! For there may be that come which will absorb all
terror, all suffering, even death itself and make one glad.
The heart cries out: "Give it all to me! Let me taste the whole
of it. I am a man, a god though in the germ. I will triumph
over all earthly things, — things of horror, of terror, of weari-
ness, of exhaustion, of mystery, of joy, of sorrow, of pain, —
even death shall be conquered, for within me is Life."
The desert fills one with this passion to know, and in knowing
to conquer. Its cry, like that of Life, is irresistible.
In the desert, too, all things seem possible. Here is the prime-
val chaos out of which the world of beaut)' and habitation has
been made.
Here is the naked bod\ of things, and it suggests with terrific
force what the naked soul of things is. The greatness, the vast-
ness, the chaos, the crudeness, the palpitating power and vitality
appeal to one as do trumpet blasts out of an unearthly silence.
In gazing on the desert you are gazing at your own undeveloped
soul.
530 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
And at the same time in the presence of the tremendous sun-
Hght, the awful distances of the stars, the unseeable stretches of
the earth, the towering grandeur of the mountains, the vibrating
silences, the overwhelming possibilities of the desert, you feel a
corresponding enlargement within. Your own soul enlarges to
meet these things, and you feel within yourself a tremendous
potentiality which may become something noble and grand, even
sublime.
For is it not to widen man that wide stretch these apparently
illimitable plains ? Is it not to expand him that everything on
the desert is expansive ? Is it not to heighten him that the
mountain peaks tower to the sky ? Is it not to deepen him that
precipices yawn, that canyon depths call upon the awe of the
human soul ?
How earth and heaven meet on the desert! In the far-away
blue on the remote horizon the yearning heaven reaches down to
the emulous earth, and they become one. So God reaches down
and joins himself to man, when the creature, in his noble aspira-
tions, reaches upward to the Creator. Thus man becomes as
God, able to do all things, as Christ said he should.
For the desert teaches us that God is no niggard. It gives
lavishly and bounteously of all it possesses. The sun is never
so brilliant and glorious, and its risings and settings so gorgeous
as in the desert. Daily, nightly, entrancing color schemes are
p esented to the visitor, in a wild prodigality that would be
startling were there not so many other prodigal gifts to engage
the attention. The sky is never so clear and blue elsewhere,
the stars never so luminous and soulful, the breezes never so
cooling, calming, and refreshing when evening falls, the sleep
never so dreamless, the mind never so clear, the soul never so
pure as on the desert.
Is it not possible that one source of the attractiveness of the
desert is found in the fact that it seems to echo what often we
vaguely feel within ourselves ? What vast mysteries are there
not hidden in our own breasts, what tow^ering snow-clad mountain
peaks of goodness, what deep, dark canyons of evil .^ And how the
storms rage within our own souls! Was there ever a wind-storm
or a sand-storm on the desert equal to the storms that sometimes
The Liirc of tlic Desert 531
rage tempestuously within the human heart ? And }et, just as
men have been impelled to change the adverse conditions of the
desert, so the desert calls upon us to change the adverse v^ithin
our ow^n souls. 7 he sand-hills, the unfruitful soil, the great valley
stretches, inust he turned into gardens of Eden in which one may
walk and talk with God and commune with angelic and human
companions. The desolation must be changed into fruitfulness,
the horror into beauty, the unrest into peace, the evil into good,
the weakness into strength, even as God hath willed from the
foundation of the world.
The desert is nothing if it is not sincere. It is sincere to bru-
tality. Open, bare, exposed it lies, and yet it is not dead. It is
alive with a fiery aliveness that takes you into its heart and compels
you to be as it is, open, frank, sincere. Only then can one know
freedom. Of this there is none when one's very self is fettered by
the lies, the petty pretenses, the insincerities, the glozings that
men and women perpetrate one upon another. Oh, for the
freedom of soul that comes from absolute openness, as freedom of
the body comes in the desert! And not only freedom of the body.
Here the usual channels of one's thoughts lie unused and forgotten,
being inadequate to hold the vast floods of spiritual life the desert
pours into the receptive soul.
One's ordinary little round of ideas, one's little suppositions,
one's little codes, one's little standards are crushed and trampled
into nothingness by the tremendous truths the desert forces upon
us. It is no respecter of persons, of human ideas, of human plati-
tudes. It bows no knee to human logic or human laws. Its
stern, grand face is lifted to the sky in constant search for God
himself through the depths of space, and who shall say but that
on that face are reflected some of God's greatest truths ^ Is this
not one reason why the desert is such a bringer of peace and life .?
It gives to us, perhaps unconsciously, the assurance that Lite and
God are immeasurably greater than man has yet conceived.
This barrier that the desert places between the outer world and
itself is a good thing for man. It calls to him to come and share
this aloofness. On crossing the line you find yourself in a world
where everything is difi^erent, entirely new! It is a complete
separation, an absolute revocation of all former earth-claims.
532 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
The sun is different, so are the sky, the air, the trees, the distances,
the clouds, the stars, the odors, the sunrise, the sunset, the moun-
tains, the perspective, the everything.
Then there steals into the soul a similar sense of separation.
You find a barrier betwixt yourself and many of the things you
used to deem essential to your life. They are at once divorced
from you. You do not need them, rely upon them, cling to them,
as you did yesterday. You find how little you really need, how
primitive and simple are the demands made upon you when you do
come to the primitive and simple, and as a snake sheds its old and
useless skin so you shed your useless garments of body, mind,
and soul, of conventionality, artificiality, and unnaturalness. To
some people this severance comes as a shock that deadens, a blow
that stuns, to others as an arousement, an awakening, an enlarge-
ment, and a quickening.
There is no knowing of self in the whirl of cities. There is no
solitude, no calm, no rest, no opportunity for deliberate self-ap-
praisement according to the true standards of nature. Everything
is conventional, fictitious, unnatural. Men are weighed by their
money, their clothes, their geniality, their attainments in the arts
and sciences, in business or in popularity, rather than by their
character. Then, too, everything is haste. The clang of car-
bells, the toot of automobile-horns, the whistle of railway-engines,
the hurry, bustle, clangor, confusion of streets, are ever in their
ears. There are the theaters, balls, concerts, churches, receptions,
lectures, routs, picnics, and parties to aid further in the work of
mental distraction. Can one think in such a babel, such a hell .?
There is little or no real thought in cities. We think we think,
but just as city air is ever and always the breathed-over air of the
millions and is full of the odors of shambles and markets and gas
and decompositions and swill-barrels and alleys and stables, so
are the thoughts of men conventional, bounded, set, second-hand
thoughts flavored by the odors of tradition, of theology, of this and
that and the other, — musty, rusty, moth-eaten, dog-eared, not fit
to be mental and spiritual food for living men and women.
So then if you would know yourself, if you would really think,
if you would let pure, real thought flow into you freely, get away
from the cities. Go out away from man, now and again; ascend
The Lure of the Desert 533
the heights, descend tlie depths, measure the distances, track the
pathless desert, for there, in the still places of God, will your soul
learn to know itself and its great and wondrous destiny.
There are many points of similarity between the desert and the
ocean. There is the same vastness, the same illimitableness, the
same mystery. Yet wonderful differences exist. On the sea all
is in motion; the vessels, the waves, the sky, and the stars, all
are in apparent if not real motion, full of life and activity. The
sea is ever restless, ever striving, ever seeking after that which it has
not yet found. But the desert is so full of quietude, of calm
completeness, of passionless serenity, that it soothes and calms as
the hand of a health}' loving mother soothes her feverish child.
I love the absolute silence ot the desert. Here it is no figure
of speech to say that, at times, "you can hear nothing but your
own heart beat," or "it is a silence that can be felt." Ah, and for
how long has it been a silence ^ From the ages of the past to the
now and the yet long distant future.
When one hears nothing but the mad cry of the world, and he
is shut in betw^een confining city walls, how his heart cries out for
the silence and wide expansiveness of the desert!
How marvelous God's use of silence. He has spoken much in
Nature and Revelation, yet it is unquestioned that all His best
things are yet unspoken, His best thoughts unknown to man.
Hence when men speak of being "natural' and that Nature
demands freedom and fullness of expression, would they not do
well to remember that silence is both natural and godlike, and
that man should aspire to the latter as well as the former ? There,
golden silence flows out of the heart of the sun, and as it fills the
earth with its splendor and sublimity it seems to fill man with the
same fiery heat, impetuous ardor, glowing courage, and godlike
aspiration that sends the chariot of day speeding each morning
across the heavens.
But silence speaks of solitude, and to some persons there is an
oppressive sense of sadness wherever human beings are absent.
Solitude is so awful to them. It seems as if some dreadful thing
had driven humanity away, and therefore the place of solitude
is filled with vague, mysterious, but nevertheless potent fears.
What human being is there who has not felt the desolation of
534 The Wonders of the Colorado Desert
loneliness, the sorrow and pain of solitude, the aloneness that
comes at times, even when mingling with the madding crowd,
and that makes us feel the aloofness of our own soul ? Is not one
secret of the power of the desert found in its almost visible per-
sonification of this feeling ? It is the forsaken, the desolate, the
solitary, the alone, and without knowing it, we pity ourselves
in pitying the majesty of its aloofness. Some men flee to solitude
through bitterness of spirit, through hatred of the world, because
of disappointment, blight, or sorrow. Others go because in
the vastness of the desert the spirit finds freedom and enlarge-
ment, and hence peace.
Sit with me now on a mountainside looking over the desert.
The moon is rising. Below me, standing in awesome silence,
are the hundreds of giant palms, their age telling me they should
be sere, yellow, and hoary, yet their green and graceful crowns
speaking of an aspiring youth that nothing can age. Beyond
is the plain, sandy and strewn with boulders, dotted here and
there with mesquite and lesser trees and shrubs. Farther away,
like recumbent forms of sleeping monsters, rise the spurs of the
giant mountains, which, leaping at once to the heavens, form
steps for man to ascend and gods to descend. All are touched
with the melancholy radiance of the moon. It is not a great
blood-red orb, but a dainty, gentle presence, a silvery crescent
that comes in maiden modesty to diffuse sweet and pure beauty
on every hand. Everything is touched as with luminous primrose
and silver. The silence of the desert is accentuated by the
thousand and one sounds that tell of the things that do not sleep by
night, — the gentle breeze playing quietly with the leafy mysteries
of the palms, the rustling of tiny creatures in the sand, the occa-
sional croak of a frog, or chirp of a cricket, and once in a while
the perfect flood of melody from a love filled mocking-bird.
How small and insignificant and unneeded man feels in such
presences and at such a time! Without him or with him these
things are just the same. He neither helps nor hinders, neither
calls forth nor restrains. There are some things, thank God,
that man cannot meddle with, improve, nor mar. They refuse
to be civilized and will forever remain as examples of what can
be achieved without his aid or interference.
INDEX
Agua Caliente, 103, 446.
Agua Dulce, 50, 235, 443.
Alamo Botina, 235.
Alamo Mocho, 10, 62, 63, 106, 108,
255-
Alamo River, 6, 16, 29-32, 49, 50,
56, 60-62, 152, 165,358,493.
Alamos Bonitos, 453.
Algodones Ranch, 117, 412, 413.
Allan's Camp, 464.
Amador, Rafael, 97.
"American Girl" Mine, 299.
Ames, mine prospector, 318, 319.
Anaconda Mine, 314.
Anaheim, 304.
Anastasio, 242.
Anderson, General, 117.
Andreas Canyon, 269, 292-297,
385-
Anschultz, "Charley," 266.
Arizona Experiment Station, 58.
"Army of the West," 105, 253.
Austin Mine, 299.
B
Badger Lake, 63.
Bailey, Vernon, 194, 325.
Bale, Sergeant, 342.
Banning, 38, 214, 234.
Barney, B. B., 462.
Barrows, Dr. D. P., 246.
Bartlett, J. R., 62, 67, 106-108, 253,
341-
Basins of the Desert: Big, 480; Des-
ert, 68; Maquata, 27.
Beale, Lieutenant E. E., 105.
Bean, General, 121.
Bear Valley Water Company, 66.
Beatty, John C, 354J 355-
Beltran Slough, 64, 65.
Bierce, Ambrose, 152.
Big Basin, 480.
Bill Williams River, 58.
Birds of the Desert, 157-168.
Black Canyon, 53.
Blake, Professor William P., xxii,
28, 83, no, HI, 125, 126, 265,
361.
Blue Lake, 63.
Bodie Mine, 299.
Botsford, prospector, 318.
Boulder Canyon, 53.
Bravvley, 50, 63, 360, 363.
Breedloves, 343.
Brooklyn Mine, 210, 317-322, 434.
Brown, explorer, 488.
Browne, J. Ross, 9, 258, 354.
Bucareli, Viceroy, 93.
Bull Frog Mine, 299.
Burbank, Luther, 224.
Burch, James, 114, 254.
Burnett, Governor, 121.
Burro, The, on the Desert, 397-401.
537
'Wvt-j
Kj^
v-\
)38
Index
Burt, John, miner, 318.
Burt's Lake, 319.
Butterfield Overland Mail, 255-
257; Stage-coach Line, 114.
Cabazon, 235.
Cajon Pass, 75.
Calexico, 22, 50, 56, 61, 64, 363.
California Audubon Society, 167.
California Development Company,
32, 49. 5°. 55. 61, 63, 503.
Cameron Lake, 16, 64, 253.
Camp-fires of the Desert, 345-
362.
Campo, 332, 405.
Canyons of the Desert: Andreas,
269, 292-297, 385; Black, Boul-
der, Cataract, 53; Chino, 75, 76,
269; Cottonwood, 430; Deep,
456-461; Desolation, 53; Devil's,
409; Echo, 53; Falls Creek, 76;
Flaming Gorge, Glen, Grand,
Gray, Gypsum, Horseshoe, Ice-
berg, Kingfisher, Labyrinth,
Lodore, 53;Lukens, 385; Marble,
53; Martinez, 240, 437; Murray,
269, 297, 298; Narrow, Painted,
53; Palm, 76, 154, 266, 269, 385;
Pinion, 484; Pyramid, 53; Rock
House, 441, 442; Santa Ana, 73;
Split Mountain, Stillwater, 53;
Tauquitch, 269; Virgin, 53; West,
277; Whirlpool, 53.
Cardenas, 50.
Carrizo, 9, 10, 16, 18, loi, 103, 107,
108.
Carrizo Creek, 13, 67, 449.
Carson, Kit, 105.
Carter, J. E., 487.
Castle Dome, 13.
Cataract Canyon, 53.
Central Overland California and
Pike's Peak Express, 258.
Chaffee, irrigationist, 507.
Charles, Frances, 474.
Chemehuevis Indians, 22, 233, 477.
Chino Canyon, 75, 76, 269.
Chocolate Mountains, 39, 40, 72,
139. 142, 172, 345. 355-362.
Chuckwalla Mountains, 72, 172,
185, 213, 258.
Clark Mine, 314.
Clarke Ranch, 445.
Coachella, 365.
Coachella Valley, 5, 11, 16, 21, 27,
43. 50. 67, 215, 234, 237, 264,
364-371-
Coahuilla Indians, 22, 264, 289,
393. 477-
Cocopah Indians, i, 2, 56, 233,
238.
Colorado Chiquita, 58.
Colorado Desert, xxii-xxxvi.
Colorado River, 49 et seq.
Colorado River Exploring Expedi-
tion, 373-
Colorado River Ferry, 117.
Colorado River Irrigation Com-
pany, 354.
Colors of the Desert, 139-144.
Colton, I.
Comstock Mine, 314.
Consag, Father, 29.
Cooke, Captain P. St. George, 104,
253. 347-
Index
J39
Cookes Wells, lo, 29, 412.
Copper Queen Mine, 314.
Corona, 76, 77.
Cortes, 88, 89.
Cottonwood, 266.
Cottonwood Canyon, 430.
Cottonwood Mountains, 72.
Coulter, Dr. Thomas, 97.
Cover, Thomas, 306.
Coville, Frederick Vernon, 137,
224-229.
Covington, William, 2^^.
Cox, E, T., 198, 199.
Coxcomb Mountains, 72.
Coyote Wells, 410.
Craig, Colonel, 341-343-
Crawford Valley, 171, 210, 215.
Creeks: Carrizo, 13, 67, 449; Salt,
13, 16, 58.
Cucamonga Mountains, 75.
Cumana Indians, 90, 91.
Cuyamaca, 71-80, 150.
D
Dalzura, 404.
Date-Palm Culture on the Desert,
383-396-
Davis, Jefferson, no, 112, 253.
De Alar^on, Pedro, 50, 54, 89, 90.
De Anza, Captain Juan Bautista,
93-
De Benivedes, Fra Alonso, 150.
De Courcey, Dr., 305.
De Guzman, Nuiio, 89.
De Niza, Marcos, 89.
De Onate, Juan, 91.
De UUoa, Francisco, 89.
De Vaca, Cabeza, 89.
Death Valley, 75, 346.
Deep Canyon, 456-461.
Denton, 194.
Desert Basin, 68.
Desert Surprises, 33-48.
Desert Tenderfoot, Suggestions for
the, 521-525.
Desolation Canyon, 53.
Devil's Canyon, 409.
Devil's Garden, 189.
Diamond Lake, 63.
Diaz, Melchior D., 55, 90.
Dieguienos Indians, 234.
Ditmars, Professor R. L., 182, 1 83,
192, 194.
Dollar Lake, 73.
Donner Lake, 346.
Dooner, P. W., 258-260.
Dorsey, Senator Stephen, 300.
Dos Palmas, 423, 427.
Downey, Governor, 303, 304.
Durazno Valley, 445.
Durbrow, George, 505.
Eagle Mountains, 72, 172.
Echo Canyon, 53.
Eggeling, Otto, 195.
Ehrenberg, 258, 422, 423.
El Centro, 50, 363.
El Dorado, 483.
"El Dorado," Bayard Taylor's,
109, no.
El Monte, 255.
EI Morro, 292.
Emory, Colonel W. H., 98-103, Hi,
254.
Esmeralda Mine, 249.
)40
Index
Eureka Mine, 249.
Eytel, Carl, xxxvii-xliv, 137, 196,
220, 264, 265, 281.
Pages, Don Pedro, 96.
P'airchild, David G., 390, 391.
Palls Creek Canyon, 76.
Fig Tree John's, 19, 251, 252.
Pigueroa, Governor, 97.
Pish Springs, 452.
Piske, John, 264.
Pitch, George Hamlin, 289.
Plaming Gorge Canyon, 53.
Plorida, 463.
Plowing Wells, 305.
Pont, Padre, 93.
Porbes, Professor R. H., 388.
Prazer, Professor, 102.
Prink, 13, 133.
Puneral Mountains, 75.
Gadsden Purchase, 106, 253.
Garces, Padre Prancisco, 50, 92,
93-95, 414-
Garden of Eden, 473.
Gardners, 10.
Garnet Queen Mine, 443.
General View of the Desert, 1-22.
Gila River, 58, 59, 104, 109, 117.
Glanton Ferry, 11 8-1 22.
Glen Canyon, 53.
Glover, George W., Jr., 161, 162.
Goldfield Mine, 249.
Goldhill Camp, 299.
Gold Park, 482.
Goth Brothers, 375, 376,
Graham, Colonel, 222.
Grand Canyon, 53.
Grand River, 52.
Granite Mine, 155, 434.
Gray, Dr. Asa, 220.
Gray Canyon, 53.
Great and Little Bear Valleys, 73,
106.
Green River, 52.
Grinnell, Mrs. Elizabeth, 191.
Grinnell, Professor Joseph, 157,
158, 292.
Gripton, explorer, 488.
Guadaloupe Hidalgo, 106.
Guinn, J. M., 113, 114, 255.
Gypsum Canyon, 53.
H
Hall, Professor H. M., 465, 468.
Hamilton Mine, 249.
Hanks, Professor, 82, 83.
Hanlon's Ranch, 241.
Hardy, R. H. W., xxvi, 50.
Hardy's Colorado River, xxviii, 63.
Havasu River, 58.
Hay, Dr. O. P., 193, 194.
Hayfields, 171, 172.
Heber, 50, 363.
Hedges Mine, 299.
Hefferman, Dr., 355.
Heintzelman, Major, 83, II2.
Hemet, 464.
Hersey Mine, 483.
Hesperia, 478.
Hickey's Ranch, 421.
Hijar, Don Jose Maria, 98.
Hill, Jeremiah, 119.
Hill's Valley, 405, 406.
Index
541
Holder, Professor C. F., 95.
HoltviUe, 50, 363, 495.
Hooper-Whiting Company, 258.
Hopi Indians, 92.
Horn, Dr. G. H., 201, 202.
Horseshoe Canyon, 53.
Horticultural Possibilities of the
Desert, 373-38 1.
Hubbard, H. G., 202, 203.
Hutchins, Chinese inspector, 408.
Huxley, 188.
Iceberg Canyon, 53.
Imperial, 7, 13, 50, 200, 363.
Imperial Valley, 6, 9, 13, 21, 26, 28,
49, 61, 267, 362, 365.
Imperial Water Company, 357, 508.
Indians of the Desert, 233-252; Co-
ahuillas, 22, 264, 289, 393, 477;
Cocopahs, I, 2, 56, 233, 238;
Chemehuevis, 22, 233, 477; Cu-
manas, 90, 91; Dieguienos, 234;
Hopis, 92; Mohaves, 56, 98;
Pimas, 92, 153; Paiutis, 233;
Sabobas, Santa Rosas, 213; Ser-
ranos, 234,477; Yumas, 21, 56,
91. 97, "7, 234, 238, 477.
Indian Wells, 10, 411, 455.
Indio, 4, 5, II, 13, 16, 21, 24, 31,
42, 50, 66, 135, 253, 258, 365,
366, 485.
Iron Chief Mine, 266.
Irrigation Company, 508.
Ives, 50.
J
Jackson, Helen Hunt, 465.
Jackson, leader of expedition, 96.
Jacumba Ranch, 40b.
Jasper, James A., 332.
Johnson, Bernard G., 387.
Johnson, Fred N., 377-381.
Jones, Senator J. P., 300.
Jones, Commissioner W. A., 446.
Jordan, Mrs., the Aunt Ri of
" Ramona," 463.
Juan Jack Bonito Ranch, 421
Judson, explorer, 488.
K
Kearney, General, 96, 98, 104, 347,
447-
Kearney, Thomas H., 391.
King, Clarence, i, 81, 115, 132,
Kingfisher Canyon, 53.
Kino, Padre, 92.
Labyrinth Canyon, 53.
La Cueva, 76.
Laguna, 49, 332.
Lakes: Badger, 63; Blue, 63; Burt's,
319; Cameron, 16, 64, 253; Dia-
mond, 63; Dollar, 73; Donner,
346; Le Conte, 326; Pelican, 63;
Volcano, 19, 63, 65.
Lamy, Engineer George L., 76.
Lea, missionary to the Yumas, 488.
Le Conte, Dr. J. L., 83, 208, 326.
Le Conte Lake, 326.
Limon, Ensign, 95.
Lincoln, Dr. A. L., 117.
Little Paradise Valley, 466.
Lodore Canyon, 53.
Lomas, Augustin, 240.
542
Index
Lomas, Poncho, 239, 240, 244.
Long Beach, 77.
Long's Peak, 52.
Los Angeles Chamber of Com-
merce, 334, 335.
Lost Horse Mine, 479.
Lukens Canyon, 385.
Lure of the Desert, 527-535.
Lyon's Peak, 79.
M
Maguire, Pete, 59.
Mailliard, Joseph, 157.
Mammoth, 267.
Manhattan Mine, 249. ,
Maquata Basin, 27.
Marble Canyon, 53.
Markham, ex-Governor H. H., 299.
Martinez, 50, 219, 235, 237, 239-
252, 268, 453.
Martinez Canyon, 240, 437.
McCallum, Judge, 283.
McCoy's Springs, 377.
McFee's Ranch, 421.
McGuire Expedition, 304.
McKane Family, 406, 407.
Mecca, 4, 5, II, 21, 24, 25, 50, 67,
149, 160, 169, 237, 266, 268, 363,
365, 366.
Aleccaroni River, 67, 68.
Mellen, Captain, 51.
Mendoza, Viceroy, 55, 89.
Mesquite Land, li, 22, 219, 453-
462.
Mexicali, 50, 56, 64, 363.
Mexican Boundary Commission,
222, 230.
Mexican Company, 355.
Michler, Lieutenant, 254.
Milpitas, 418.
Mines of the Desert: "American
Girl," 299; Anaconda, 314;
Bodie, 299; Brooklyn, 210, 317-
322, 434; Bull Frog, 299; Clark,
Comstock, Copper Queen, 314;
Esmeralda, Eureka, 249; Garnet
Queen, 443; Goldfield, 249;
Granite, 155, 434; Hamilton,
249; Hedges, 299; Hersey, 483;
Iron Chief, 266; Lost Horse,
479; Manhattan, 249; Pegleg
Smith, 13, 300-309; Randsburg,
Tonapah, Tuscarora, 249.
Mining Committee of the Los An-
geles Chamber of Commerce,
266.
Mining Company, "Seal of Gold,"
319-
Mirages and Desert Illusions, 130-
138.
Mission Creek Valley, 477.
Mitchell, Dr. Weir, 176.
Mohave, 23, 27, 51, 54, 186, 206,
Mohave Indians, 56, 98.
Monterey, 93, 94.
Moore, Captain, 100.
Moravian Mission, 251.
Morehead, General Joseph C,
121.
Morongo Pass, 81, 477.
Morris, Madge, 152, 211.
Mortmere, 237, 267, 514.
Mountains of the Desert: Choco-
late, 39, 40, 72, 139, 142, 172,
345> 355-362; Chuckwalla, 72,
172, 185, 213, 258; Cocopah
Index
5i;j
Range, io8, 133, 134, 150; Cot-
tonwood, 72; Coxcomb, 72; Cu-
camonga Peaks, 75; Eagle, 72,
172; Funeral, 75; Long's Peak,
52; Lyon's Peak, 79; Palomar,
150; Pinto, 72; San Antonio, 75;
San Bernardino, 2, 3, 7, 20, 23,
26, 44, 66, 71-80, 134-136, 140,
165, 235; San Fernando, 75; San
Gorgonio, 66, 71-80, 142, 234,
469; San Jacinto, 3, 4, 7, 9, 26,
27» 37-+o» 66, 71-80, 142, 149,
165, 239, 269; San Miguel, 79;
Santa Rosa, 150; Sierra Madre,
75; Sierra Prieta, 83; Sierra
Santa Ines, 75; Signal, 13, 134;
Smith, 302-305; Superstition, 13;
Tauquitch Peak, 233, 465; Te-
carte, 405; Thomas, 465; Torres,
50, 150, 235; Wind River, 52.
Mountain Meadow massacre, 346.
Muir, John, 150, 211.
Murray, Dr. Wellwood, xxx, 280,
297, 341, 393-
Murray Canyon, 269, 297, 298.
"Mystic Mid Region," Burdick's,
328.
N
Narrow Canyon, 53.
Needles, 55, 56.
Nelson, N. O., 519.
Newbury, Dr., 373.
New Liverpool Salt Company, 326,
328, 504.
New River, 6, 16, 26, 29-32, 50, 56,
61-67, 357, 504- •' ■
Nombre, Francisco, 239.
O
Ocean of Calm, 75.
Ogilby, 201, 299.
Ontario, 77.
Ornuga, Ignacio, 251.
Oro Copia Mining Company, 427.
Overland Mail Company, 9.
Painted Canyon, 53.
Paiuti Indians, 233.
Pala, 322, 446.
J'alm Canyon, 76, 154, 266, 269,
385-
Palm Springs, 11, 13, 21, 25, T,-],
67, 157, 172, 204, 234, 258, 277-
298, 374-
Palm Springs Station, 37, 253, 471.
Palma, Chief, 93.
Palmdale, 291, 462.
Palo Verde, 418-420.
Palomar Mountains, 150.
Parke, Lieutenant, in.
Parker, 21.
Parsons, George W., 266, 334.
Passes of the Desert: Cajon, 75;
Morongo, 81, 477; San Felipe,
97, 221, 253, 448; San Gorgonio,
1-4,7, II, 13, 17, 25, 37, 40, 44,
61, 189, 253, 254.
Patton, H. W., 487.
Pedro, Juan, 251.
Pedro, medicine-man, 290.
Pegleg Smith Mine, 13, 300-309.
Pelican Island, 13, 83, 518.
Pelican Lake, 63,
Perris Indian School, 340.
Perry, C. N., 508.
544
Index
Physical History of the Desert,
Picacho, 13, 21, 300, 415-418.
Pico, Andreas, 98.
Pilot Knob, 8, 13, 27, 81, 215, 515.
Pima Indians, 92, 153.
Pinion Canyon, 484.
Pinto Mountains, 72.
Pinto Valley, 212, 265.
Plant Life on the Desert, 207-232.
Polhamus, Captain, 51.
Pomona, jj.
Poston, Charles D., 258.
Potrero Village, 234, 404.
Powell, Major, 26, 49, 50,353,354.
Prescott, 258.
Producers' Association, 368.
Prospecting and Mining in the
Desert, 299-330.
Pyramid Canyon, 53.
Q
Quin, Sergeant, 342.
R
Ranches of the Desert: Algodones,
117, 412, 413; Clarke, 445; Han-
Ion's, 117; Hickey's, 421; Ja-
cuniba, 406; Juan Jack Bonito,
452; McFee's, 421; San Ftlipe,
448; Thomas, 464, 465; Vande-
venter, 443, 466; Warner's, 103,
253> 255, 258, 303, 446; Went-
worth, 445, 446; Whitewater
475-
Randsburg Mine, 249.
Read, J. P., 323.
Reclamation of the Desert, 353-371.
Reflooding the Colorado Desert,
271-276.
Reptiles and Insects of the Desert,
169-206.
Riley, 346.
Rio del Tizon, 55.
Rio Padrones, 493.
•Rio Paredones, 63, 64.
Rivera, Governor, 95.
Rivers of the Desert, 49-67; Alamo,
6, 16, 29-32, 49, 50, 56, 60-62,
152, 165, 358, 493; Bill Williams,
58; Colorado, 49 et seq.; Hardy's
Colorado, xxvi, 63; Cila, 58, 59,
104, 109, 117; Grand, Green, 52;
Havasu, 58; Meccaroni, 67, 68;
New, 6, 16, 26, 29-32, 50, 56,
61-67, 357, 504; Rio del Tizon,
55; Rio Padrones, 493; Rio Pare-
dones, 63, 64; San Juan, 58;
Whitewater, 10, 16, 46, 66, 67,
269.
Rock House Canyon, 441, 442.
Rockwood, I' ngineer C. R., 32, 61,
354, 506, 507.
Rust, Major, 240.
Ruthven, 13.
Saboba Indians, 213.
Salt Creek, 13, 16, 58.
Salton Sea, 5, 7, 11, 13, 16, 19, 26,
27,31,38,43, 134, 142, 154, 164,
186, 221, 264, 324-326, 503-518;
Yuma to the, 487-501.
Salton Sink, 5.
Salt-works, 428.
San Antonio Mountains, 75.
Incl
ex
545
San Bernardino Mountains, 2, 3,
7, 20, 23, 26, 44, 66, 71-80, 134,
136, 140, 165, 235.
San Diego, 13, 17, 26, 107, 253.
San Diesjo and San Antonio semi-
monthly stage lint-, 254.
San Diego to \uma, a trip from,
403-414.
San Felipe Pass, 97, 221, 253, 488.
San Felipe Ranch, 448.
San Fernando Mountains, 75.
San Gabriel, 94-96, 253.
San Gorgonio Mountains, 66, 71-
80, 142, 234, 469.
San Gorgonio Pass, 1-4, 7, 11, 13,
17' 25, Z7^ 40, 44, 61, 189, 253,
254-
San Jacinto Mountains, 3, 4, 7, 9,
26, 27, 37-40, 66, 71-80, 142, 149,
165, 239, 269.
San [uan River, 58.
San Luis Rey, 97, 253.
San Miguel Mountains, 79.
San Pasqual, 98, 253.
San Xavier del Bac, 92.
Santa Ana Canyon, J^.
Santa Anna, 97.
Santa Barbara, 220.
Santa Fe Railway, 55.
Santa Rosa, 443.
Santa Rosa Indians, 213.
Santa Rosa Mountains, 150.
Sebastian, 93.
Serra, Padre Junipero, 215.
Serranos Indians, 234, 477.
Seven Oaks, 73.
Seven Wells, 64, 493.
Sharps, 61, 64, 494.
Shaver, 266, 430.
Sherman School, 340.
Sierra Mad re, 75.
Sierra Prieta, 83.
Sierra Santa Ines, 75.
Signal Mountain, 13, 134.
Sign-boards of the Desert, 331-335-
Silsbee, 50, 363.
Simpson, General J. H., 90.
Smith, Jedediah, 98.
Smith Mountain, 303-305.
Smith, Thomas L., 98.
Smythe, William E., 361.
Sonora, 96, 99, 109, 253.
Sonoranian migration, 61, 117, 118.
Southern Pacific Railway, 115, 122,
237, 268, 278, 363, 508.
Split Mountain Canyon, 53.
Springs of the Desert: Fish, 452;
McCoy's, 337; Palm, 11, 13, 21,
25, 37^ 67, 157, 172, 204, 234,
258, 277-298, 374.
Stage Line Across the Desert, 253-
262.
Standard Salt Company, 328.
Stanton, 50.
Stejneger, Leonard, 175.
Stillwater Canyon, 53.
Storms of the Desert, 123-130.
Strawberry Valley, 76.
Stubenrauch, A. V., 392.
Superstition Mountain, 13.
Swingle, Dr. Walter T., xxii-xxx,
387-389, 391, 392-
Tauquitch Canyon, 269.
Tauquitch Peak, 233, 465.
546
Index
Tecarte Mountain, 405.
Tejon, Fort, 112.
Temecula, 255, 302.
Thermal, 50, 365.
Thomas Mountain, 465.
Thomas Ranch, 464, 465.
Tingman, "Ananias of the Desert,"
349-352-
Tonapah Mine, 249.
Torres, 453.
Torres Mountain, 50, 150, 235.
Torrey, Dr., 102.
Toumey, Professor James W.,
388.
Tragedies of the Desert, 32"/-
344-
Tubac, 253.
Tucson, 253, 478.
Turner, Captain, 100.
Tuscarora Mine, 249.
Twenty-Nine Palms, 316, 479,
482.
Tyndall, Professor, 137.
u
United States Reclamation Ser-
vice, 503.
Vallecita, 107, 256, 448.
Valleys of the Desert: Coachella,
5, II, 16,21, 27,43, 50,67, 215,
234, 237, 264, 364-371; Craw-
ford, 171, 210, 215; Death, 75,
346; Durazno, 445; Great and
Little Bear, J2> i°6; Hill's, 405,
406; Imperial, 6, 9, 13, 21, 26,
28, 49, 61, 267, 362, 365; Little
Paradise, 466; Mission Creek,
477; Pinto, 212, 265; Straw-
berry, 76.
Vandeventer Ranch, 443, 466.
Van Anderson, 488.
Van Denburgh, 185, 193.
Van Dyke, Dr. John C, 210.
Van Dyke, T. S., 162, 163.
Veatch, Dr., 84-86, 150, 221, 373,
504.
Vermilion Sea, 30.
Virgin Canyon, 53.
Virginia City Camp, 299.
Volcano, 13.
Volcano Lake, 19, 63, 65.
Vosburgh, J. L., 260, 261.
W
Wagner, Mrs., 152.
Waldo, leader of expedition, 96.
Warner, Jonathan Trumbull, 96.
Warner's Ranch, 103, 253-255, 258,
303' 446.
Warren, Chuck, 478, 479.
Wayne, Major, 112, 113.
Water on the Desert, 263-270.
Wells of the Desert: Cookes, 10,
29, 412; Coyote, 410; Flowing,
305; Indian, 10, 411, 455; Seven,
64, 493-
Wentworth Ranch, 445, 446,
West Canyon, 277.
Wheaton, Professor, 291.
Whirlpool Canyon, 53.
Whitewater, 4.
Whitewater Ranch, 475.
Whitewater River, 10, 16, 46, 66,
67, 269.
Index
547
Whiting, Dr. C. A., i8i.
Widncy, Dr. J. P., 271-276.
Wild Animals of the Desert, 145-
156.
Williamson, LieutLiiant, 72, 254.
Wilson, Charley, 482.
Wilson, Quartz, 418.
Wind River Mountains, 52.
Woods, I. C, 114, 254.
Wozencraft, Dr. O. I\I., 354.
Wright, W. G., 201, 204.
Yaeger, mine prospector, 318, 319.
Yaeger, Diego, 122.
Young, leader of e.xpedition, 96.
\'uha Plain, 16, 18.
Yuma, 3, 7, 10, 13, 17, 49, 55, 59,
107, 134, 200, 215, 254, 258,
272, 374; to Salton, a tramp
from, 415-428.
"S'uma Indians, 21, 56, 91, 97, 117,
234, 238, 477.
BooJxS by George IVhdtion James;
In and Out of the Old Missions
of California
An Historical and Pictorial Account of the Frances-
can .Missions. With one hun<Ired forty-two illiistra-
i ions, in<lu<lin<4^ fiill-paj^e plates, from i>hotoj;raphs.
*>\ o. Cloth. $;J.OO net.
THE present volume stands as tlie authority oji the old
missions of California. Indispensable as a guide-book,
and is filled with most valuable material. — San Francisco
Argonaut. The author has devoted careful study to the
matter of architecture, and to the furniture and decorations
of the historic and ancient structures; but, in addition to this,
the work is made interesting by the relative matters that
have a more human interest. — St. Louis Globe-Democrat.
The Story of Scraggles
A Song Sparrow
Illustrated hy Sears (iallagher and from photographs.
12mo. Cloth. $1.00.
OCRAGGLES was a little song-sparrow that Mr. James
^ found weak, crippled, and unable to fly. He took the
Ifltle bird to his home and it became his constant com|)anion,
perching on his foot and nestling in his hand, while he was
writing his book "In and Out of the Old Missions of Cali-
fornia." The dedication of that book led many people to
write to the author expressing a desire to know more of the
story of "Scraggles." In this story, which Mr. James has
now tenderly and faithfully told, is described an unusual in-
stance of a friendship between man and one of the lower
animals.
LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., Publishers
254 WASHINGTON STREET, BOSTON
Other Boohs by George Wharton James
In and Around the Grand
Canyon of the Colorado
River in Arizona
Illustrated with twenty-three full-page plates and
seventy-seven pictures in the text. 8vo. Cloth.
Price, $2.50
THE volume, crowded with pictures of the marvels and
beauties of the Canyon, is of absorbing interest.
Dramatic narratives of hairbreadth escapes and thrilling
adventures, stories of Indians, their legends and customs,
and Mr. James's own perilous experiences, give a wonderful
personal intez'est in these pages of graphic description of
the most stupendous natural wonder on the American
Continent. — Philadelphia Public Ledger.
The Indians of the Painted
Desert Region
With sixteen full-page pictures and fifty half-page
illustrations from photogi'aphs. Crown Svo. Deco-
rated cloth. $2.00 net
"TNTERESTING as a fairy tale and valuable for its
-^ accuracy as well" (^Literanj Nexvs), and "a distinct
and extremely interesting contribution to topographical
and ethnological knowledge" (^Buffalo CommerciaV),\^ this
book by Professor James, in which he vividlv describes the
Navaho, Hopi, Wallapai, and Havasupai Indians of the
Southwest. "The writer has made an intimate personal
accjuaintance with his subject and has grounded himself in
the researches of others," says the Nezo York Tribune.
LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., Publishers
254 WASHINGTON STREET, BOSTON
MAY ? 5 1934
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