CENTRAL CHIHUAHUA--FROM THE CITY OF CHIHUAHUA WESTWARD TO THE GREAT
MEXICAN MINING BELT.
While in Guaymas and discussing a practicable route into the heart of
the Sierra Madres, I was told by the general commanding the division
in which Guaymas was situated, and strongly advised by others having a
knowledge of the country, not to attempt an entrance into the mountains
from the western side, but rather from the high plateaus, of which the
city of Chihuahua was the central point. There were many excellent
reasons given for this advice. The Yaqui Indians were said to be
very restless at that time; the season of the year was unfavorable,
because all large rivers, like the Yaqui, Fuerte, and Mayo, were at
their height; again, there were no good points near the mountains
for outfitting such as the city of Chihuahua afforded. All these
reasons, together with the advance of exceedingly warm weather, made me
conclude to retrace my steps to the eastern side of the Sierra Madre
range. So we again passed over the Sonora railway, and enjoyed those
charming contrasts of the sea of flower-covered plains and mountains
during the two days' ride that took us to Benson. Thence we returned
to Deming, and from that point to El Paso, whence the Mexican Central
Railway takes one in a night's ride about two hundred and fifty miles
southward, to the city of Chihuahua.
This is a place of about thirty thousand people, and is the most
important city in Northern Mexico. Like all towns in Mexico, but little
of it can be seen from the railway, only the tall spires of its famous
cathedral being visible; but the fine church alone well repays the
tourist for stopping over on his southern flight. Beside the cathedral,
there are many other features of interest to the tourist having
sufficient leisure, and the town should not be so universally slighted
as it now is. It is the outfitting point for all parties visiting the
many large and famous mines of the northern portion of the Sierra Madre
range. The journey from the city to the mines is made by diligence for
the first hundred miles, to the low-lying foothills of the mountains,
and then by mule-back for one hundred or one hundred and fifty miles,
to the heart of the great range. As this was nearly the route we wished
to pursue, the first two days were passed in outfitting and making
necessary arrangements. When we were informed that the diligence left
Chihuahua at three o'clock in the morning, we were convinced that the
Mexicans were by no means as indolent as they have been reported,
especially in the matter of early rising, or they would not start out
a stage at such an early hour. The conveyance must of necessity be
seldom patronized by any persons except the natives; and the calling of
passengers at that time for a seventy-five or eighty mile drive could
only be accounted for by a morbid desire of the people to be up before
the early bird. The day before leaving was passed in assorting all the
baggage absolutely needed for a long trip by mule-back, and in getting
together such necessary provisions as we would use.
I had been told that but little could be purchased after leaving the
town, and then only at three or four times the expense of buying and
transporting the same from Chihuahua. So despite all our efforts to
cut down our luggage it had quite a formidable appearance, and I
judged that my pack train would be an imposing affair, even if the
daily bill of fare was not. Our traps were piled up in the office of
the diligence, and orders were given to call us quite early, that we
might be promptly on hand, for we were assured the diligence would
wait for no man. Quite reluctantly I retired early, and left the
pleasant crowd sitting on the piazza that surrounded the inner court
of the hotel. As the noises of one of these primitive Mexican hotels
cease about one o'clock in the morning, and begin about two, and as
the night watchman felt it incumbent to open my door every tour he
made, and hold his lantern in my face to see whether I was having a
good night's rest, there was little cause for alarm lest I should be
left. Nevertheless to make assurance trebly sure I was called by three
different persons. It was evidently a great event to have passengers
leave by the diligence. We were soon out in the streets, picking our
way along in total darkness, trying to make the requisite number of
twists and turns down the little side streets to the office (for this
Mexican diligence was a proud affair, and would not stoop to drive to
the hotel for passengers, not even for extra money). The rigid rules
of the corporation had to be enforced, and were above all price; so we
went floundering around in utter darkness until we were waylaid by a
friendly policeman with a lantern, who doubled us back on our tracks,
and assisted us to reach the dark door of the diligence office, which,
at that hour, was not distinguishable from any other door. At first we
were sure the policeman had made a mistake, for there was no sign of
life about the place, and it was full time for departure.
Soon, however, a frowzy-headed man with a candle in his hand opened the
door and bade us enter; but I preferred walking up and down outside in
the cool morning air, and had a good half hour's exercise of that kind
before the coach came lumbering into sight. The huge, old-fashioned
affair had the queerest look imaginable; for, hitched to it in groups
of four each, with two leaders, were the tiniest mules I had ever seen.
With the arrival of the coach and ten the office at once burst into
life. I stood and counted my luggage as piece after piece was thrown
on behind, and felt as though I was monopolizing the highway, for my
freight towered up and filled the boot. The office was then examined
to see that nothing had been left; but, alas! that precaution was a
failure, as I found to my vexation at the end of the first day's drive.
It was broad daylight when we finally got away at half-past five in
the morning. Walking about in the cool air had given us voracious
appetites, and as we clattered by the humble huts of the peons and saw
them making their simple morning meals, we regretted exceedingly having
placed any faith in the punctuality of this particular diligence. As
we drove onward through the broad avenue of _alamos_ on the outskirts
of the town the fields were filled with the early workmen, who rise as
soon as it is light for their work, and rest in the heat of noonday.
In this part of the country these laborers are always dressed in white
that looks immaculate in the distance, against the dark background of
the fields, but it will not bear close inspection. I was thus able
to prove another virtue of the Mexican people, or at least a certain
portion of them, and this too despite the fact that my discovery does
not accord with the generally accepted American opinion of Mexican
laborers. There was no doubt that they were unusually early risers to
their work, as all that morning I found evidence of this fact. We drove
twenty miles before breakfast, and passed people going into the city
who had come as great a distance. As I have said, these same people
take their siesta in the afternoon, and are judged accordingly by
others who do not get up early enough to know what they have done.
Leaving Chihuahua and bearing west toward the Sierra Madres, one finds
the road even crowded with Mexican transportation, all from the rich
silver belt now being rapidly developed, chiefly by American wealth.
There are great carts with solid wooden wheels of the Nazarene style,
the patient donkey of the same period, and all so numerous that one
would think there was an exodus from a city soon to be put under
siege. Almost anything that grows about the home of a Mexican of the
lower order furnishes an excuse for him to take it into town with a
hope of selling it. Until we were fairly out of the suburbs our party
were the only occupants of the coach, but there we were joined by a
Mexican gentleman, the son of a wealthy mine owner, who lived back in
the mountains. He was on his way to his fathers mining district, and,
as I had met him and talked with him before leaving, I had so timed
my departure as to be with him for at least a part of the journey.
The country directly back of Chihuahua reminded me greatly of our
own plains by the imperceptible manner in which it rises toward the
foothills of the mountains, although it was far more fertile and well
watered, as the numbers of rich ranches along the way testified. At
nine o'clock we stopped to eat breakfast and change mules. Our morning
meal consisted of a concoction dignified by the name of coffee, with
tortillas (the people's bread--pancakes of coarsely ground corn and
water) and some stale eggs served in battered tin dishes upon a rough
wooden box. The stage station being the only house in that part of the
country, we could not be choosers. I noticed, however, that the soil
was of the richest kind and well watered, so that anything could have
been raised. What a paradise could be made by energy and industry where
nature has already done so much.
At noon we stopped at one of the numerous simple and dreary little
villages with which the country is studded. They appear far more
desolate than the open, bare _mesa_ lands. All are much alike, each
having one or two streets of adobe houses, and a church of forbidding
aspect, which fronts on a still more uninviting looking plaza, about
fifty or seventy-five feet square, and set with whitewashed adobe
benches, a stripe of green about the latter being almost the only thing
to remind one of the color of verdure. The plaza is the pleasure ground
of the people, and a more cheerless-looking place one could not imagine.
In investigating some of the resources of this country I ran across a
(to me) new and interesting way of measuring wheat, and other products
of the soil. I found an old hunter on the Yukon River of Alaska who
measured the length of grizzly bears by the fathom; I have had a
Mexican charge me for a saddle by the pound, carefully weighing it and
estimating the resulting cost; and when I tried to find how much an
exceptionally fine field of wheat yielded to the acre, the reply was
equally surprising. The owner, as he boasted of the field, knew nothing
of so many bushels to the acre (or to the hectare, which is their usual
standard of measurement), nor even of any ratio of pounds or kilograms
to a known area; but he loudly bragged that he raised one hundred for
one, while only a few of his neighbors could claim as high as fifty
for one, forty for one being the average for the whole valley. Now
one hundred for one meant that he got one hundred grains for every
grain he planted, one hundred bushels for every bushel put in as seed.
If he had planted a bushel on an acre of ground and got one hundred
bushels in return it would be considered an enormous yield, and even
a Western farmer would dance with delight at such a result; but if he
had planted a bushel on ten acres of ground, and got the same hundred
bushels as before, the Mexican farmer would be as happy as ever, while
the American farmer would begin to wonder if the old farm could stand a
third mortgage or not.
Of course the American will say that about a certain number of bushels
are sown to the acre, and that one hundred for one or fifty for one
really gives us a fair ratio in judging of the fertility of the land.
But I would answer that in Mexico little attention is paid even to
_such_ a ratio, or to any other in agriculture, and only the most
careful observation or inquiry can elicit the facts necessary for a
basis of proper conjecture.
A Mexican diligence is ornamented with an assistant to the driver in
the shape of a nimble young fellow, whose business it is to throw
stones at the mules. He occupies the front seat alongside the driver,
and whenever the mules have the appearance of commencing to walk--which
occurs about every half minute--he jumps nimbly to the ground, makes a
dash ahead for the leaders, with his hands and pockets full of stones,
and pelts the unfortunate beasts well. Of course they make a tremendous
burst of speed, and he grasps the straps on the side of the coach and
swings himself on top; then the leaders look around, and, seeing
him up out of the way, they slacken down their pace again, when the
performance is repeated. Sometimes the mules do not wait to be pelted,
but when they see their enemy stoop down to gather the missiles they
gallop wildly ahead, leaving the road runner to make the best time he
can to catch up; which having done, he takes his revenge on the mules
from above at his leisure.
If there is one thing in which the Mexicans can outdo us more than
another it is in stage or diligence driving, and this too with animals
that will not compare with ours in size or strength, although, in
proportion to their size, probably more enduring. They generally
make up in numbers what they lack in strength, for they hitch them
in troops and droves, so to speak. When we first started we had two
groups of four and two leaders; then we changed to four abreast and two
wheelers; then, as the country grew a little rougher, they hitched two
leaders to the six, making eight altogether. Now, again, we dropped to
six mules in pairs, as we see them at home. As the last stretch was a
tough one, we again had ten mules in sets of fours with two wheelers.
This over a very rough mountain road. Here was versatility in mule
driving that I never expected to see among a people that are generally
reported by most American writers to be of a decidedly non-versatile
character.
When the Mexican mules are through staging they "skirmish" for a
living, grazing off such grass as can be had, or in lieu thereof
browsing on cottonwood and willow bush, not even disdaining a corner
of a corral or a wagon tongue or two if times are going a little hard
with them. Late in the afternoon we realized that we were entering the
foothills of the mountains, for the road wound through many picturesque
little ravines and ascended the rocky beds of the small creeks, often
taking to the middle of the stream when the cañon was very narrow or
thickly strewn with bowlders. It was quite a common occurrence for the
stage to be overturned on the road--if road it could be called--and the
most decided talent in mule driving was necessary to guide the groups
of little animals safely between the mossy rocks. Toward evening the
walls of the long cañon, with its broken craigs and fantastic turrets,
almost met overhead, so narrow was it; but after a few turns and
twists it widened, and after rounding the peak of a high mountain,
entered another cañon, where, strung out its whole length, was the town
of Cusihuiriachic. I do not intend to throw the name of this Mexican
town at my readers without giving a plan, section, and elevation of
it as a key to the riddle. We were now in the land of the Tarahumari
Indians of West Central Chihuahua, this long-winded name applying to
them just as equivalent Indian names are found in Maine and a few other
places in the Union. This large Indian tribe, probably numbering from
15,000 to 18,000 (the most authentic estimate I can get places them at
16,000, although I have heard them estimated at 30,000 in strength),
was once scattered over a considerable territory, and their names are
still given to most of the places in the country they occupied before
the advent of Europeans.
[Illustration: IN CUSIHUIRIACHIC CAÑON.]
Wherever there is water (so I was told by an old resident among these
strange and little known people, Don Enrique Muller) the name of the
camp or town alongside ended in _chic_, as in the example I have given
above, as also in Bibichic, Carichic, Baquiriachic, and a few others
I could mention--"all wool and a yard wide." The rest of the word
Cusihuiriachic, still long enough for five or six more names, means,
says my authority, "the place of the standing post." When they ruled
their own country many years ago the principal means of punishment
employed was the upright post, to which the offenders were tied and
treated to a Delaware dissertation. Such is the origin of the big name
of the little Mexican town of Cusihuiriachic, situated about halfway
between the city of Chihuahua and the great mining belt of the Sierra
Madres, west and southwest of the city, and to which it is a secondary
distributing point. The diligence ride is made to it in one day, a
little over seventy-five miles. The place claims five thousand people,
and there is but one street up the narrow gulch, which, however, is
long enough to justify its name. It is wholly a mining town, and has
some important quartz mills strung out along the little stream through
its principal and only street. When we reached our destination for the
night we found a square adobe inclosure, with an enormous gateway,
through which the stage rattled and then stopped in a small court for
us to dismount. From there we passed through another large gate into a
similar court, filled with a variegated assortment of mules, and after
dodging among them, to cross to the opposite side, we climbed three or
four steps, and entered the most primitive hotel any civilized man's
eyes ever rested on.
[Illustration: ARRIVAL OF THE COACH]
The patio or interior plaza of the hotel was, upon our arrival, being
used as a cockpit, and one or two hundred people were jammed therein.
Beside the Mexicans, there was one immense, brawny Chinaman. In the
middle of the pit lay two dead cocks; one belonged to the Chinaman,
and the other to some member of the Mexican aristocracy of the town.
An adverse decision had just been given regarding the victory of the
Chinaman's cock, and he was in the act of rolling up his sleeves to
pitch into the crowd and vindicate the prowess of his fowl; fortunately
our timely arrival prevented any further strife by diverting attention
to us, while the host was dragged from the midst of the fray to hunt up
a key to unlock one of the narrow pens--called rooms--that overlooked
the mule corral. Here, on a dirty brick floor, my bedding was spread,
and I slept to a chorus of squealing mules, which came in through the
grated, wooden-shuttered window. And right here I may say that I know
of no better opening for Americans of small means than starting and
keeping hotels in Mexican towns, where decent accommodations of the
kind are wanting, and where a great many Americans, as well as English
and other foreigners, pass through. I could mention fifty such towns
beside the example given. In the town referred to we were crowded, four
and six together, into those small pens--all travelers passing backward
and forward on business connected with mining interests or similar
industries. It seemed to be the universal custom of this portion of the
country to get up at three o'clock to take the diligence, no matter
how long or short the drive was to be. We were going only forty miles
farther the next day to Carichic; the diligence returned nearly eighty
miles to Chihuahua, and another stage line branched off for Guerrero,
to the northwest; but it appeared necessary that passengers should rise
at the same hour in order that all the coaches might get away at the
same time.
The Carichic line is quite unfrequented, and only an ordinary wagon
is used as a stage for the few Mexicans who go that way; but in honor
of my party the large diligence was sent that day to carry us and
all our luggage. With the first streak of dawn we were threading our
way backward and forward across the little stream that runs through
the town, past sleeping pigs, geese, chickens, dogs, burros, and
Mexicans--an almost indiscriminate mass strung along the roadside. This
road led past the big quartz mill, grinding away day and night, and by
it we climbed up and out of the narrow cañon till the _mesa_ and the
hills were reached. Afterward the drive was through beautiful park-like
places, with groves of oak and pine, the road winding up and down the
mountain side, until, early in the afternoon, we reached Carichic. On
the road between Cusihuiriachic and Carichic we came to an adobe
building, that departed in a very picturesque way from the everlasting
mud box style of architecture so common to this country, and for which
departure we had to thank the Apaches. Not that they built it, for an
Apache never built anything except under compulsion, and at that time
compulsion of these Indians was about the scarcest thing in Mexico;
but, rather, they compelled the Mexicans to do it, that is, to erect
corner towers at the four corners of the mud box, and convert it into a
building of defense. In the picturesque mountain scenery it looked at
a short distance away like an old castle, and only a nearer inspection
dispelled the illusion.
[Illustration: MEXICAN ADOBE HOUSE FORTIFIED AGAINST APACHE RAIDS.]
While at Cusihuiriachic we had looked with some contempt on the
primitive accommodations of its forlorn and dilapidated hotel, and had
rather scouted the idea of its being possible to find a worse place or
greater disregard for the common necessities of life in any habitable
town. The little cell-like room, with its wooden bench, tin wash basin,
and bare brick floor on which to stow one's bedding, seemed to be
the extreme of simplicity; therefore we believed that Carichic could
hardly do less for us. But as everything is relative in this world,
I was soon to look back to the despised hotel as the last taste of
civilization, and to appreciate it accordingly. On reaching Carichic,
a town of six or seven hundred people, we were told there was no such
thing as a lodging house for us, and that it would be necessary for us
to camp in the streets or some field, unless our Mexican friend could
induce the village priest to allow us the use of a large empty room in
one corner of the big building he occupied. The loaning or renting of
a large empty room does not seem to be an act of great hospitality,
nevertheless it was so regarded. The Mexican gentleman, when passing
backward and forward over the trail between his father's mines and
Chihuahua, always made his headquarters with the priest or _cura_, who
was a great friend of his family; but everything and everybody from the
United States he looked upon with suspicion and distrust. Therefore,
considering the circumstances, his readiness to allow us under his
roof could only be considered as a marked hospitality, or as evidence
of a disposition to oblige our mutual Mexican friend. Perhaps he was
animated by a keen sense of duty, and found this a fitting opportunity
to mortify the spirit. But, whatever his motive, we were given the use
of the room. So the stage left us and our worldly possessions there,
for at Carichic all roads ended, and, as soon as I could make my
arrangements with a native packer for his pack train of mules, we were
to take one of the narrow Indian trails leading back into the heart of
the Sierra Madres.
The priest's house was by far the most important in the village, being
built around a large interior court, with all the rooms facing on
this court, except the one given for our use. At the entrance to this
interior court was a large gate, which could be barricaded in case of
danger or an Indian uprising. On one of the outside corners of the
structure was a sort of storeroom, the door opening on the street, and
next to this storeroom--which contained a few old bottles and pieces
of leather--was the room assigned to us. At one end of our room was
a small fireplace, and along the rude adobe wall was a wooden bench,
and near it a table. One window, with wooden bars, and the door, were
the only openings. The floor was the common one of earth. As there was
not a place in the town where food could be bought, it was necessary
to open our boxes before our dinner could be prepared. Wood and water
were soon brought, a fire started in the fireplace, and our simple
meal could have been ready in fifteen minutes--and would have been
anywhere except under the auspices of our Mexican cook. We tried to
secure chickens and eggs--staple articles even on the frontier of
Mexico--but were told that time would be required to get them, and
that the next day would be the earliest moment at which they could
be procured. Tortillas, however, were forthcoming, and these, with
bacon, hard bread, cheese, and tea, made an excellent meal. Dionisio,
or Dionysius in English, my cook, had been highly recommended to me
at Chihuahua, and had been brought with me on that account, as I had
been influenced by glowing descriptions of his supposed good qualities.
Since the morning of our start from Chihuahua he had been the butt
and laughingstock of even the slowest of the Mexicans, who had heaped
all sorts of derisive epithets on him for his general stupidity. My
only hope was that he would blossom out as a good cook when he had an
opportunity; but here I was doomed to receive the full shock of his
utter incapacity, and to realize that he would only shine resplendently
as a complete failure on the whole journey. Finally I was forced to the
conclusion that he was palmed off on me simply to get him salaried and
off the the hands of somebody else. Although we arrived at Carichic
about noon, or shortly after, and preparations were begun at once for
our simple meal, we were compelled to eat it by the light of a tallow
candle. It was evident that, if more than one meal a day was to be had,
Dionisio would require an assistant to do all the work.
As night approached the good padre tendered us the use of his parlor
floor on which to spread our bedding. This room occupied one side of
the interior court. It was a long, narrow place without windows, and
lighted only through the wooden doorways, of which there were two. In
one end of the room was a little old narrow iron bedstead; at the other
a small, black haircloth sofa, and a couple of chairs. On the walls
were a picture of the Virgin and a small crucifix, while in another
part, hung up beyond reach of the tallest man, was a small, a very
small mirror, evidently regarded as a profane thing and not to be used.
In the center of the room was a small strip of faded green Brussels
carpet. The whole place had a most depressing air, and the bare earthen
room outside was beautiful by comparison, for in the latter we had
the sunshine, and could see the lovely blue sky, and all around the
horizon, the rolling, tree-covered hills, with the distant peaks of
the Sierra Madres in the background. Nature had been very lavish with
this place, and at every point of the compass it was picturesque and
beautiful in the extreme. About Carichic the soil is wonderfully
fertile and the grass luxuriant. A lovely little mountain river winds
by on one side of the village. The people are principally the civilized
Tarahumari Indians, and this is one of their largest towns. There is,
however, as in all Indian towns, a slight sprinkling of Mexicans, and
to that portion of the community we looked for mules to carry us back
into the mountains.
Shortly after my arrival a number of Indians were started out to look
up the animals; for we wished to get away the next morning if possible.
When night came a part of the needed complement had not been found;
for Mexican mules are always turned loose to hunt their living, and
they often wander off many miles, and it sometimes takes days to find
them. All night long the Indians were again out scouring the hills, but
in the morning there were still not mules enough; so nothing could be
done but patiently await their arrival. The next morning Francisco,
a most excellent packer, by taking one horse to carry a few light
bundles, had animals enough to make a start. Horses are of no service
whatever in these mountains. On the steep, rough, dangerous trails
the small Mexican mule is the only animal that can possibly cling,
crawl, and climb up and down the dizzy heights. The motley and scraggy
assortment of beasts led up for our inspection that morning gave us
the uncomfortable feeling that we would never reach any place if we
trusted to them. A little before ten o'clock my train of fourteen mules
was started; and we were told we must ride fast, as the trail just out
of the town was good, and it was necessary to make the noon camp at a
certain spot. The trail we took was one seldom used, except by the
Indians, and a few Mexicans who held mining property in that portion
of the mountains. It was, therefore, one of the roughest and steepest
in that region. Instead of seeking any sort of grade, it struck out
wherever fancy had dictated to the original Indian travelers, generally
over the steepest peaks or along the edge of some high and dizzy
precipice, even when this course was wholly unnecessary. Although that
made it somewhat laborious for us, as well as our animals, it gave us
unusually fine views and picturesque effects, and despite the roughness
of the trail we rode fifteen miles that morning and made our noon camp
on time.
When but a very short distance out of Carichic, while crossing a high
ridge, I observed, in a little valley below, a curious looking creature
skulking along half hidden from view, toward the entrance to a cave in
a huge bowlder. I called the attention of my Mexican companion to him,
and he said he was only one of the wilder Tarahumari Indians, who lived
in this manner, and that I would see enough of them before I finished
my journey. This was my first introduction to a strange people hidden
away in those grand old mountains, and of which the world has known
comparatively nothing.