On to Morelos--Wild and Broken Country--The Enormous
Flower-spike of the Amole--Subtropical Vegetation of Northwestern
Mexico--Destructive Ants--The Last of the Tubars--A Spectral
Ride--Back to the United States--An Awful Thunder-storm--Close
Quarters--Zape--Antiquities--When an "Angel" Dies--Mementos of
a Reign of Terror--The Great Tepehuane Revolution of 1616--The
Fertile Plains of Durango.
After having at last succeeded in getting men, I continued my journey
to the northwest, over the very broken country toward the town of
Morelos, inhabited almost entirely by pagan Tarahumares. There were,
of course, no roads, only Indian trails, and these in many places
were dangerous to travel with beasts of burden. The barrancas during
the month of May are all but intolerably hot, and it was a relief to
get up now and then on the strips of highland that intersperse the
country and look as fine as parks. At the higher altitudes I noticed
a great number of eagle ferns, and the Indians here plant corn in
the small patches between the ferns, merely putting the grains into
the gravelly red ground without tilling the soil at all.
Lower down were groves of big-leaved oak-trees. Their leaves are
sometimes over ten inches long and of nearly the same breadth, and
are frequently utilised by the Indians as improvised drinking-vessels.
On the summits of the barrancas, and on the slopes over which we
descended into the valleys, an astonishing number of parasites and
epiphytes was observed, especially on the pines and oaks. The round
yellow clusters growing on the branches of the oaks sometimes give the
entire forest a yellow hue. In the foot-hills I saw a kind of parasite,
whose straight, limber branches of a fresh, dark green colour hang
down in bunches over twenty feet in length. Some epiphytes, which most
of the year look to the casual observer like so many tufts of hay on
the branches, produce at certain seasons extremely pretty flowers.
In the valleys of the western inclines of the sierra there is nothing
suggestive of tropical luxuriance or romance in the landscape,
which impresses one chiefly with its towering mountains and vast
slopes. Grass is plentiful enough among the stones and rocks, and
groups of fresh green trees indicate where ground is moist and water
to be found. The country is dry, and from January to June there is
no rain. Yet an aloe, which smells like ham, is so full of juice
that it drips when a leaf is broken. This, too, is the home of the
agaves, or century-plants, and I know of nothing so astonishing as
the gigantic flower-spike that shoots upward from the comparatively
small plant called amole. One fine day in May I came upon one, which
I measured. It was by no means the largest one to be found, but the
spike itself, without the stalk, was 15 feet 8 inches in height, and
31 inches in circumference at its thickest part. It seemed a pity
to cut down such a magnificent specimen, but, as I wanted to count
the flowers, I had one of my men fell it with a couple of blows of
an axe. After counting the flowers on one section, I estimated that
the entire spike bore at least 20,000 beautiful yellow blossoms,
each as large as a tulip. It required two men to carry the spike, and
as they walked they were followed by a multitude of humming-birds,
which remained fearlessly at work among the flowers of what they
evidently considered their own private garden. They might have to
fly miles before finding another like this. The flower-stalk of the
maguey is eaten before it flowers. It looks like a big bamboo stick,
and when roasted in the hot ashes is very palatable, sweet, and tender.
Below the Indian village of Coloradas stands an isolated peak 400 to
500 feet high, in regard to which the Tarahumares have the following
legend: A Tepehuane once cut bamboo reeds and tobacco, down on the
river, and being followed up by the Tubars changed himself into this
stone. The man's girdle can still be made out.
At the village my interpreter asked me for the cover of a copy of
London _Truth_, and for the wrapper on my photographic films, that
with these pictures he might adorn the altar of the old adobe church.
The country is but thinly populated east and north of Morelos, and
the steepness of the valleys through which the Indians are scattered,
makes it difficult to reach them. At the time of my visit these
Indians had absolutely nothing to sell us but the sweet mescal
stalks. In the end of May I reached Morelos, an old mining place,
about 1,800 feet above sea-level.
The surrounding hills and mountains were covered with the typical
Mexican vegetation of the warm regions. The many odd-shaped cacti
form a strong contrast to the light and pinnate leaves of the
numerous leguminous shrubs, acacia, sophronia, etc. The chilicote,
or coral-tree (_erythraea_), with scarlet flowers, is seen everywhere;
also palo blanco, with a white stem, looking like an apple-tree. The
year 1893 was an exceedingly dry one throughout northern Mexico. My
mules, obliged to travel under a scorching sun, sometimes had to be
without water for twenty-four hours. Still, in those hot barrancas,
I saw no difference in the vegetation. The trees and plants did not
seem affected by rain or no rain. The only exception I noticed was that
the fiat, leaf-like joints of the nopal cactus shrivelled up a little
on the surface, but the fleshy inside seemed as juicy as ever. Even
during the dryest season the trees and shrubs here blossom and bear
fruit, and mornings and evenings the air is filled with the perfume of
acaciae, cacti, and other plants. One is at a loss to understand how the
cattle can subsist on these shrubs, but they have adapted themselves to
circumstances, and are able to chew up the thick stems of the cacti, in
fact the whole plant, with the result, however, that their stomachs are
so filled with spines that the Mexicans cannot utilise the tripe. The
frugal Indian is the only one who does not reject it, but manages to
burn off the biggest spikes while toasting the tripe on cinders.
Near Morelos are ancient house ruins, some round and some square, and
also traces of circular fortifications built of loose stones. Several
of the latter were from sixteen to twenty yards in diameter and
located on the top of mountain ridges. The remains are attributed to
the Cocoyomes.
The commonly accepted idea that in southern latitudes anything
may be easily cultivated is often proved by actual observation to
be fallacious. Sometimes there may be too much rain, sometimes not
enough. The worst enemies of plant-life in the warm countries are the
many pests. One evening my host, Don Manuel Perez, showed me some of
the foes he had to combat in order to maintain his garden. Certain
kinds of ants bite off the flowers and leaves and carry away the
pieces. The insects come out at night and may strip a tree of its
leaves and fruits before morning. It was an astonishing sight to see
the dark stem of an elder looking .as if it were green, on account
of the multitude of ants, each of which carried a bit of green leaf
half an inch long. Every evening a man went around to burn them off
with a torch of resinous pine-wood.
Some Tubar Indians were induced to come to Morelos to be measured
and photographed. The few representatives of the tribe I saw had
good figures and small hands and feet. They seemed to be shy, but
rather kind-hearted, jolly people, resembling the Tarahumares in
appearance. They are found from the village of San Andres, three
miles from Morelos, as far as the village of Tubares. According
to tradition their domain extended in former times much higher up
on both sides of the river, to where Baborigame is now. But they
were gradually restricted to the locality on which the remnant of
the tribe at present resides. They are said to have been fierce and
constantly fighting the Tarahumares. There are now not more than a
couple of dozen pure-bred Tubars left, and only five or six of these
know their own language, which is related to the Nahuatl. The name
of the tribe as pronounced by themselves is Tuvalim.
Most of the Tubars are found in the pueblo of San Miguel, seventeen
miles from Morelos, down the river. An old woman told me that she did
not know what the Tubars had done that they were disappearing from
the world. The few remaining members of the tribe were related to
one another, and the young people had to marry Mexicans. The customs
of the Tubars evidently resembled much those of their neighbours,
the Tarahumares, who until recent years invited them to their
dances. The Tubars danced yohe, and the dancers accompanied their
singing by beating two flat sticks, like two machetes. They did not
use hikuli. In the sacristy of the church in the old Tubar village of
San Andres, I found a complete tesvino outfit, jars, spoons, etc.,
the vessels turned bottom up, ready for use. The saints, too, must
have tesvino, because they are greedy and exacting, and have to be
propitiated. The Tubars are said to have worn white girdles.
Mr. Hartman, whom I left in San Miguel to conclude some investigations,
returned a few weeks later to the United States. On the small plateaus
near San Miguel, two hundred feet or more above the river, he found
interesting old tombs, which were well known to the inhabitants under
the name of _bovedas_. The presence of a tomb was indicated on the
surface by a circuit of stones from three to five feet in diameter
set in the ground. There were groups of ten or twelve circuits, and
the tombs underneath were found at a depth of five or six feet. They
consisted of small chambers excavated in the clayey soil, and were
well preserved, though they contained no masonry work; still at one
place a yoke of oxen while dragging the plough had sunk down into
the subterranean cavity. The entrance to such a tomb is from one
side, where a large slab, placed in a slanting position, protects the
inside. Nothing was discovered in the four tombs that were opened but
some curious slate-coloured beads of burnt clay. People of the district
reported, however, that small jars of earthenware had been found in
the _bovedas_. No doubt the absence of skeletons was due solely to the
length of time that had elapsed, for even in the cemetery of the church
Mr. Hartman found similar tombs that contained several skeletons. These
tombs were indicated by the same kind of stone circuits as the rest,
but were only about three feet down in the hard clay, and had no slabs
in front of the entrance. In one of them Mr. Hartman found six corpses
more or less decomposed, the sepulchre having evidently been used
for a long time. In the same cemetery the Mexicans buried their dead.
I continued my journey down the river through the country once
inhabited by the Tubars. As the heat was intense, I availed myself
of the light of the full moon and travelled at night. Now and then
the read touched the big river where the croaking of the frogs was
intensely doleful and monotonous, but withal so loud that on a quiet
night like this they could easily be heard two miles off.
Warm winds fanned me to sleep, and only when my mule ran me against
some spiny branch, did I wake to find myself in a fantastic forest of
leafless, towering cacti, that stood motionless, black, and silent
in the moonlight, like spectres with numberless arms uplifted. The
overwhelming noise of the frogs seemed to voice their thoughts and
forbid me to advance farther. But the mule accelerated its pace, the
shadows glided quicker and quicker, up and down the stony, slippery
path that wound its way through this ghostly forest.
In the daytime there was a disagreeably strong, warm wind blowing,
making it difficult even to get the saddles on our mules, but the
nights were calm. At the pueblo of San Ignacio nobody speaks the
Tubar tongue. Blue herons have a permanent breeding-place here on
an almost perpendicular rock, four to six hundred feet high, where
I counted twenty nests.
In travelling down to Tierra Caliente there is one place at which
one must leave the river and ascend to the pine region. This is below
the village of Tubares. The river narrows here and forms rapids, and
it has been calculated that the water in flood-time rises sixty-five
feet. Alligators do not go above these rapids. In two days' journey
from Morelos one may reach the undulating country of Sinaloa, _la
costa_, which is warmer even than the barrancas.
At San Ignacio I left the river, and turned in a northeasterly
direction to Batopilas. After five days' pleasant sojourn at
Mr. Shepherd's hospitable home there, I again ascended the sierra,
and, after visiting the Indians of Santa Ana and its neighbourhood,
arrived at Guachochic. Leaving my mules here in charge of my friend
Don Carlos Garcia, I soon started again toward the northeast on my
way back to the United States, passing through the Indian ranches,
and finally arriving at Carichic (in Tarahumare Garichi, "where
there are houses," probably ancient) on July 31st. At less than an
hour's distance from the place I was overtaken by a thunder-storm,
the heaviest my Mexicans or I had ever experienced. In a few minutes
the almost level fields were flooded as far as the eye could see,
and the road we followed began to run with brown water. As we advanced
through the mud, the small arroyos were rapidly filling. The rain did
not abate, and the force of the currents steadily increased. When
only three hundred yards from the town we found ourselves at the
edge of a muddy stream, running so rapidly that it tore pieces from
the bank, and carried small pines and branches of trees with it. As
it was impossible to cross it, we had to wait, however impatiently,
for the rain to subside sufficiently to allow us to wade through the
water. And all the next day was spent in drying my things.
One year later I was again in Carichic, and from there I made my way
to Guachochic. One night I had to spend in the house of a civilised
Indian, as it rained too heavily for us to remain outdoors. The
house was made of stone and mud, without windows, and the door had
to be closed on account of the dogs. There was no way for air to get
in except through the chimney, over the fireplace. There were nine
people and one baby in the small room. Strange to say, I slept well.
My mules and outfit had been well taken care of at Guachochic, and
I now arranged with Don Carlos Garcia to take most of my belongings
to Guanazevi, a mining town in the neighbouring State of Durango,
while with a few of the best mules I crossed Barranca de San Carlos
near Guachochic, and pursued my way through regions inhabited by
Tarahumares and Tepehuanes. A stammering Tarahumare was observed,
the only Indian with this defect that has come to my notice.
The road I followed to Guanazevi from Guadalupe y Calvo leads through
a part of the Sierra Madre which is from nine to ten thousand feet
high and uninhabited, and for two days we met nobody. In winter the
region is dreaded on account of the heavy snowfalls that are liable
to occur here. Several people are said to have perished, and one
freighter on one occasion lost twenty-seven mules. In the wet season
bears are numerous, and, according to trustworthy information, have
attacked and eaten several Tarahumares.
We camped one night at a place where a man had been killed by robbers
some time before, and one of the Mexicans shudderingly expressed his
fear that we should probably hear the dead man cry at night. This
led to a discussion among the men as to whether the dead could cry or
not. The consensus of opinion was that the dead could cry, but they
could not appear. This, by the way, is the common Indian belief. My
Tepehuane servant took an intense interest in the arguments. His
face became suddenly animated with fear, and the thought of the dead
changed him from an indolent fellow into a valuable aid to my chief
packer in watching the animals at night. His senses became so keen
as to be quite reassuring in regard to robbers at night, and from
that time on he was really a valuable man, active and alert.
There is a small colony of Tarahumares living a few miles north of
Guanazevi, near San Pedro. Here I excavated some corpses that had
been buried several years before on a little plain. The graves were
about four feet deep. In Guanazevi a silver "bonanza" was in full
blast and much activity prevailed.
We were now outside of the sierra proper; but on the route south,
which I followed for several days, I was never farther away from
the mountain range than thirty miles. At Zape, about twenty miles
to the south, there are some ancient remains. As the principal
ones have been described by E. Guillemin Tarayre, who explored
Mexico under Maximilian, it is not necessary for me to dwell on the
subject. Suffice it to say that walls constructed of loose stones
are commonly seen on the crests of the low hills and are attributed
to the Cocoyomes. Circles and squares made of stones set upright in
the ground may also be seen, and nicely polished stone implements
are frequently to be found near by.
Outside of Zape are a number of ancient burial-caves, which have been
disturbed by treasure-seekers. As a curiosity, I may mention that a
Mexican once brought to light a big lump of salt that had been buried
there. It was given to the cattle.
One afternoon a gay little procession of men and women passed my camp,
some on horseback, others walking. One of the riders played the violin,
another one beat a drum. An old woman who just then stepped up to sell
something explained to me that "an angel" was being buried. This is
the designation applied to small children in Mexico, and I could see
an elaborate white bundle on a board carried aloft by a woman. My
informant told me that when a child dies the parents always give it
joyfully to heaven, set off fireworks and dance and are jolly. They
do not weep when an infant dies, as the little one would not enter
Paradise, but would have to come back and gather all the tears.
The way southward led through undulating country devoid of interest. To
judge from the clusters of ranches, so numerous as to form villages,
the land must be fertile. There were no more Indians to be seen,
only Mexicans. All along the road we observed crosses erected, where
people had been killed by robbers, or where the robbers themselves
had been shot. A man's body is generally taken to the cemetery for
burial, whether he was killed or executed, but a cross is raised on
the spot where he fell. The crosses are thus mementos of the reign
of terror that prevailed in Mexico not long ago. Most of the victims
were so-called Arabs, or travelling peddlers, sometimes Syrians or
Italians, but generally Mexicans.
The most important place I passed was the town of Santiago
de Papasquiaro, which is of some size, and situated in a rich
agricultural country. The name of the place means possibly _"paz
quiero"_ ("I want peace"), alluding to the terrible defeat of the
Indians by the Spaniards in the seventeenth century. There is reason
to believe that before 1593 this central and western part of Durango
had been traversed and peopled by whites, and that many Spaniards
had established haciendas in various parts of the valley. They held
their own successfully against the Tepehuanes until 1616, when these,
together with the Tarahumares and other tribes, rebelled against
them. All the natives rose simultaneously, killed the missionaries,
burned the churches, and drove the Spaniards away. A force of Indians
estimated at 25,000 marched against the city of Durango, carrying
fear everywhere, and threatening to exterminate the Spanish; but
the governor of the province gathered together the whites to the
number of 600, "determined to maintain in peace the province which
his Catholic Majesty had placed under his guardianship." He routed
the enemy, leaving on the field more than 15,000 dead insurgents,
without great loss to his own troops. The Indians then sued for peace,
and after their leaders had been duly punished, they were dispersed
to form pueblos. The insurrection lasted over a year, and many bloody
encounters between the natives and their new masters occurred in the
course of the following centuries, the result being that the Indians
in the State of Durango have not been able to maintain themselves,
except in the extreme northern and southern sections.
There was an epidemic of typhoid fever in some of these ranch-villages,
and in one place I saw two dogs hung up in a tree near the road, having
been killed on account of hydrophobia. A strong wind was blowing day
and night on the llanos along the river-course, which annoyed us
not a little. It was a real relief to get up again on the sierra,
about fourteen miles south of Papasquiaro, and find ourselves once
more among the quiet pines and madronas.