Y runs southward there, the germ perhaps of a railway down the river to
Chamita, where it may join the southern line. All about us are the
never-silent pines, and the breezes that whisper among their rugged
branches blow laden with balsamic odors. Close by is the Rio Chama,
hidden between dense and continuous thickets, through which the cattle
can tell you of winding and mysterious paths. Everything in the
landscape is soft and peaceful. The grass lies green and tender; the
rounded clusters of willows, blending with the glowing masses of poplar
behind them, bright in their new autumn colors, make no sharp line
against the pine copse, nor this against the swelling, gaily-clothed
background of the hills above.
Through this utterly wild, yet richly modulated scene, the Madame and I
rode off one morning down to Tierra Amarilla, leaving our companions to
angle for finny beauties. For miles the two mules trotted gaily with us
through alternate groups of gigantic yellow pines and open stretches of
grassy upland, where now and then we struck panic into the hearts of a
flock of sheep. Then signs of ranch-life began, and some cattle were
met; and ten miles from Chama we came upon the thrifty plazita of Los
Brazos (the Arms), surrounded by a wide district of farming land. This
continued three miles, and centered in a second hamlet, Los Ojos (the
Springs), where there were several shops; thence two miles more, across
a sage-brush terrace, took us to our destination.
Though the post-office has restricted the use of the name to this
village, the whole region, on account of its peculiar beds of ochre
earth, was formerly known as La Tierra Amarilla. This has been
abbreviated, not only in spelling, but in speaking, until its ordinary
pronunciation is Terr-amaréea. In 1837 a tract forty miles square, in
this part of the valley of the Chama, was granted by the Mexican
government to Señor Manuel Martin and his eight sons. There was a
failure to ratify the matter somehow, and in 1860, old Manuel having
died, his eldest son, Francisco Martin, applied to the Surveyor-General
of the United States to have the grant confirmed to him, his brothers
"and their companions" resident thereon. The Surveyor-General, however,
struck the "companions" out, and ratified the grant only to the heirs of
Manuel Martin. When this was discovered, Francisco, with the consent of
his brothers, at once gave to each incumbent the land he occupied, and a
deed for the same. Soon after this the Martins sold out all the domain,
getting scarcely ten thousand dollars for the whole million of acres,
which passed chiefly into the hands of a gentleman of Santa Fe. The next
proprietor is to be an English company, which proposes to colonize the
tract with British farmers and stock-raisers. The price paid, it is
said, amounts to more than two millions of dollars. Pending these
successive arrangements, the unfortunate settlers found their deeds
valueless, because of informality,--a neglect not at all strange in a
Mexican hidalgo. On the point of being ousted of their supposed
proprietary rights, if not actually dispossessed, they bethought
themselves of a lucky law of the territory, which gives ownership to
anyone who can show a color of title, and undisputed possession for ten
years. This statute saved them, and they will be bought out by the
Englishmen.
Farming here hardly yields enough of grain to meet the local demand,
except in the oat crop. The soil is good, the irrigating facilities very
large and convenient, timber is plenty, and the climate superb. Yet only
a portion of the wide, fertile bottom-land is under cultivation, and the
valley invites intelligent immigration with an array of inducements
unusual in New Mexico.
But there is no laxity in the matter of wool-producing, a full million
of sheep belonging at Tierra Amarilla, distributed among about two
hundred owners. These are never sold, except under stress of need for
money, when they bring from one to two dollars each. The value of the
total flock, then, will be somewhat over a million of dollars; while the
annual production of wool will amount to more than two millions of
pounds, worth more or less than half a million dollars, according to the
price of wool. Its natural outlet to market is through Chama and Amargo.
Early in September the flocks are started on their march to the southern
part of the territory, where they can feed unharmed by winter storms.
I do not know a better place to study the primitive life of New Mexico,
with all its quaint features; and the traveler who follows our example,
and digresses long enough to ride down to the settlements I have
mentioned, will not regret his short divergence from the beaten track.
Resuming the iron trail westward from Chama, all the way to Willow Creek
the same beautiful parks of yellow pine continued, and the track crossed
and recrossed a sparkling brook. Passing the mines of excellent
bituminous coal at Monero, and surmounting a low water shed, which is in
reality the continental divide, the deeply-notched tops of the Sierra
Madre came into view in the north, and we spanned the first of the many
streams that flow down from it into the Rio San Juan. A birds-eye view
of this well-wooded and almost flat region, just on the line between
Colorado and New Mexico, would have shown it to consist of a series of
low, slightly-tilted ridges, parallel with which ran the serpentine and
deeply-sunken rivers.
The first or easternmost of these streams is the Rio Navajo, encountered
near Amargo, and up to which, all the way from Chama, nothing is to be
found save grazing land, devoted mainly to sheep. Though its bottoms
available for agriculture are probably broader than the water it
contains is able to irrigate, far more farming remains to be done here
than has yet been undertaken. The Rio San Juan, into which the Rio
Navajo empties just west of Juanita, is the great drainage channel of
this portion of Colorado and New Mexico, and a river of power even here.
Its crystal-clear waters to-day prattle innocently, but they sometimes
come down from the heights like an Indian raid, a besom of destruction
for anything not as firmly anchored as the granite buttresses of the
hills themselves.
From Amargo,--there is no end of bloody history attached to El Amargo
and its fine cañon, dating from the early days of settlement, Indian
fighting and border ruffianism,--runs the old stage-road northward to
Pagosa Springs, Animas City, and the interior mines. The tales of that
thoroughfare would furnish a whole library of flash literature without
going much astray from the truth.
Pagosa is the far-famed "big medicine" of the Utes,--the greatest
thermal fountains on the continent. "The largest of these springs is at
least forty feet in diameter, and hot enough to cook an egg in a few
minutes. Carbonic acid gas and steam bubble up in great quantities from
the bottom, and keep the surface always in a state of agitation. The
water has the faculty of dividing the light into its component colors,
producing effects very similar to those of the opalescent glass of
commerce. Around the large spring, and extending for a mile down the
creek, are innumerable smaller ones, many of which discharge vast
amounts of almost boiling water. These, being highly charged with saline
matter, have produced by deposition all, or nearly all, of the ground in
their vicinity, and their streams meander through its cavernous
structure, often disappearing and reappearing many times before they
finally emerge into the river. This spot must become a great popular
resort. Its plentifully timbered and mountainous surroundings enhance
the interest it otherwise possesses for the traveler and health-seeker,
and the medicinal value of the springs claims the attention of all who
can afford time to visit them.
"The village of Pagosa Springs is situated about four miles south of the
base of the San Juan range, upon the immediate southeastern bank of the
Rio San Juan. It consists of a group of dwellings, stores, and
bath-houses, among which the steam of the hot springs issues in such
clouds as at times to render the entire place invisible. Immediately
above the town, on the opposite side of the river, rises a flat-topped,
isolated hill, whose summit contains a plateau large enough to liberally
accommodate the government post which has been erected there. Utilizing
the pines so abundant in the neighborhood, the buildings are all made of
logs; and model log-houses they are. A more inviting military camp, both
as regards location and construction, could not well be conceived."
Pagosa lies in the heart of that splendid pine forest, which covers a
tract one hundred and thirty miles east and west by from twenty to forty
miles north and south. Here the trees grow tall and straight, and of
enormous size. No underbrush hides their bright, clean shafts, and,
curiously enough, it is only in special locations that any low ones are
to be found. These monarchs of the forest seem to be the last of their
race, and, like the Indians, are doomed very soon to disappear. They are
of immense value, for they form a huge storehouse of the finest lumber
in a country poorly supplied in general with such material.
The vicinity of the springs is destined to yield large crops under
irrigation, though at present there is little settlement there. Mexicans
pasture their sheep as thickly as the fields will hold them; and try to
give their flocks a few days in the basin at least once each season,
believing that the drinking of the waters is of great benefit to the
animals. Though the upper valley of the San Juan is unlikely to prove
very profitable as agricultural land, the lower parts, in New Mexico,
are the scene of extensive and highly successful Indian farming
operations. The next stream westward, however, the Rio de las Nutrias
(River of Rabbits), has good ranches, and so has the Rio de las Piedras
(Stony river), the Rio Florida (River of Flowers), the Rio de los Pinos
(Pine river), and the Rio de las Animas Perdidas (River of Lost Souls),
up whose valley we turned sharply when a few miles from Durango. But
thus far only a fraction of the tillable soil has been located on.
At Amargo,--for in this sketch of the rivers I have run ahead of our
actual progress,--we find several hundred Apaches waiting to receive
their rations, it being the weekly issuing day. Three of the redskins
importune us for a ride, and we take them upon our platform, having
entomological objections against offering them the hospitalities of the
interior of the car. Our fund of Spanish is mutually limited, but one of
us has a fair knowledge of the sign language, learned in former
wanderings among the Dakotas and Kalispelm; and while these Apaches
never heard of either of those great northern nations of red men, they
readily understand most of the signs, though frequently showing us with
great good nature that their way of expressing an idea is by a somewhat
different gesture.
[Illustration: TOLTEC GORGE.]
Our visitors were men of medium size, beardless, and very dark. Their
hair was coal black, straight, parted in the middle, carefully combed,
and gathered into two braids, the end of each being ornamented with a
feather or a tuft of yarn. They wore woolen shirts, the original colors
of which were lost in dirt; buckskin leggings, with fringes on the outer
seam; moccasins of poorly tanned sheepskin, pointed at the toe and
decorated with fringes. Bright scarlet blankets, marked U. S. I. D; were
wrapped around their waists or drawn over their hatless polls. Each man
carried a sheath-knife at his belt, and a bow with about a dozen arrows
wrapped in a sheepskin case. Their features expressed much intelligence
and good humor, easily breaking into chuckles of laughter, for they
enjoyed studying us quite as much as we did them.
These Indians were Jicarilla Apaches, another branch of what was
originally the same great tribe being the Mescalero Apaches, of southern
New Mexico. The Jicarillas number about eight hundred souls, all told,
and are apportioned into five bands, under as many chiefs, the most
influential of whom is _Huarito_ (Little Blonde), though he has no
nominal headship. Their reservation extends thirty-three miles southward
from the Colorado line, and is sixteen miles in breadth. On account of
the severity of the winters about Amargo, the Government moved these
Indians, during the autumn of 1883, to Fort Stanton, reuniting them
there with the Mescaleros, on the reservation of the latter. Whether
this experiment will "work" remains to be seen, as more than half the
tribe were dissatisfied, and avowed their intention of returning in the
following spring.
Amargo cañon which is always pretty, and sometimes approaches grandeur,
extends westward to Juanita. There it widens out and disappears in a
series of little parks, where the mountains diminish into pine-clad
hills. For the next score of miles we skirt the turbulent Rio San Juan;
but just west of Arboles, where it receives the Rio de las Piedras, we
leave it, the road making a long detour, and climbing up and away from
the stream, to a wide, rolling mesa. Descending again, La Boca is
reached, where we cross the Rio de los Pinos, clear, rapid, and of good
size, which we follow up to Ignacio.
At this point is another Indian Agency,--that for the Southern Utes,
under an aged head-chief after whom the station is named. There are
somewhat over eight hundred Indians here, divided into three or four
bands under sub chiefs. Their reservation, which the railway traverses
from where it re-enters Colorado, near Carracas, nearly to the Rio
Florida, measures about sixteen miles north and south, and over one
hundred miles east and west. These Utes are considered far more
intelligent than the Apaches, and their conduct is more taciturn and
dignified. Though not congregating in any considerable numbers along the
track, they are not unfriendly to the whites, and daily wander about the
streets of Durango. They are now the only Indians occupying a
reservation within the limits of Colorado.
The members of both tribes are allowed to ride free at will on passenger
trains, and the railway company has never experienced the slightest
trouble from them. Liquor is kept from their reach as much as possible.
Gambling is their passion.
Approaching Ignacio the train runs through shady lowlands, and passes,
here and there, groups of teepees, the swarthy occupants of each lodge
stepping out and standing motionless as statues in the shrubbery,
watching us sweep by. The Rio Florida, which is soon crossed, is alive
with trout, and along its upper course is excellent shooting. The whole
region is undulating, green-carpeted, and covered with large
yellow-boled pines, through which we catch magnificent mountain-views
northward. Near Carboneria, the track describes two tremendous loops, in
getting down from the table lands to the valley, and presently, rounding
the mountain spur, reaches the Rio de las Animas, which it parallels
into Durango, along a cutting through gravel and rock some distance
above the bed of the stream.
Toward the last we had seen evidences of the great La Plata coalfield,
to which I must devote a paragraph. It extends from the Rio de los Pinos
almost to the southwestern corner of Colorado, and has been tapped in
many places. This field is in sandstones and shales of the cretaceous
age, divided into the upper and lower measures, about 1,000 feet apart.
The lower coal measure is in a zone of shaly sandstones which are about
300 feet thick, and when separated from the shale is of excellent
quality for domestic use. This lower measure is underlaid by a bed of
dark gray shale, containing calcareous seams and nodules, called
septaria. The La Plata coal-bed reaches from the east end of the county
for over sixty miles, and is crossed by the river. The thickness of the
entire bed between the floor and the roof is over fifty feet, and it
contains about forty feet of good coal, free from shale. The floor, of
grayish white sandstone, is covered with a thin layer of clay and clay
shale. Upon this is a layer of compact, firm coal, six to eight feet
thick; then a layer of tough black shale, one and a half to two feet
thick. The remainder is a bed of excellent coal with only small seams of
shale at intervals of four to ten feet. The "roof" is a tough shaly
sandstone, alternating with true shales for a distance of several
hundred feet above the coal-bed, and containing two or three small veins
of coal.
Durango is beautifully located on the eastern bank of the river, the
commercial portion being on the first or lower bench, and the residences
on the second or higher plateau. Thus the homes of the people occupy a
sightly position, apart from the turmoil of traffic, while lofty
mountains and wall-like cliffs shelter the valley on all sides. Though
founded only in the autumn of 1880, the city now contains a population
of over five thousand, and is the most important point in southern
Colorado. Here centers the business whose operations extend throughout
the entire mountain system, and into the tillage and stock-raising
districts of northwestern New Mexico. The great supply stores, with
their heavy assortments of general merchandise, indicate a jobbing trade
of no mean dimensions, and one which is steadily growing; while the
extensive and elegant retail shops, unsurpassed in the state outside of
Denver, bear evidence to the refined demands and prosperity of the
citizens. Here also are concentrated the social, religious and school
advantages which make up an intellectual nucleus. Its low altitude and
easy accessibility render the town desirable as a temporary home for
those engaged in mining, but who care not to endure the rigors of the
long winter among boreal fastnesses. The banks of Durango are
substantial institutions, and the hotels are commodious. Municipal
improvements are being judiciously added, the most prominent for 1883
having been the erection of water-works, while street cars and gas-works
are contemplated at an early day. The smelting of ores is carried on
here actively and successfully, the convenience of coal, coke and
fluxes, and the hauling of the ores down hill, giving the place marked
advantages for this industry. Superior opportunities are likewise
presented for a great variety of manufactures, foremost among them being
iron and steel productions,--iron ore, limestone and all other necessary
ingredients abounding in the locality, and being of easy access. The
fall of the stream,--two hundred feet per mile,--supplies a water-power
of never failing volume. Of late the city has been extending its limits,
and now one may find an attractive ward, with cosy cottages and more
pretentious houses across the river, and in the twilight shadow of the
majestic bluffs which here rise precipitously a thousand feet. Taken all
in all, no frontier town within our ken shows a more vigorous and
healthy growth, or brighter promise for the future, than Durango on the
Animas.
XII
THE QUEEN OF THE CAÑONS.
Receding now, the dying numbers ring
Fainter and fainter down the rugged dell,
And now the mountain breezes scarcely bring
A wandering witch note of the distant spell,--
And now, 'tis silent all--Enchantress, fare-thee-well.
--WALTER SCOTT.
When, some ten years ago, the writer had let his mule down into Baker's
Park, by hitching its wiry tail around successive snubbing-posts, the
prediction was ventured that at some distant day a railway would
penetrate these solitudes; and that it would approach from the
southward, through a cañon which not even an Indian had ever been known
to traverse,--the trails in that direction then leading over a terrible
range, at a height far above the limit of vegetation. The prophecy has
been verified, for the Denver and Rio Grande has already pushed its
southwestern extension through the Cañon of the Animas, reaching
Silverton in July, 1882.
Here the cores of the Rocky Mountains have been buried beneath an
overflow of eruptive rock spreading over four thousand five hundred
square miles of territory; or else, along with the sandstones and slates
which were deposited against their sides, they have been metamorphosed
into schists and quartzites. "The character of the volcanic rocks
throughout the district," says Dr. Hayden's report, "is one of extreme
interest, demonstrating an enormous amount of activity during a probably
short period of time (geologically speaking), which activity was,
nevertheless, accompanied by a comparatively large number of changes in
the chemical and physical qualities of the ejected material."
This geological composition gives to these mountains,--and particularly
to the quartzite peaks along the southern border of the eruptive
area,--a different appearance from any of the northern Rockies,--a more
precipitous, Alpine and grander countenance, with sharp pinnacles,
tremendous vertically walled chasms, and extensive forests of spruce
clothing their lower declivities. In no other locality are so many very
lofty summits to be seen crowded together. Sierra Blanca and two or
three other single peaks in Colorado and Wyoming slightly outrank any
here; but nowhere else can be found whole groups of mountains holding
their heads up to fourteen thousand feet, and having great valleys
almost at timber-line.
The old maps bear the name Sierra Madre, to designate these heights,
whose snowy crests filled the northern horizon and forbade the advance
of Spanish exploration. The word admits of various applications, but one
which might well have been in the mind of him who first used it, is that
this vast highland is the mighty _Mother_ of our rivers. From its
western slopes flow the rivulets that unite to make the Gunnison and
Grand,--one of the forks of the Rio Colorado. Easterly, but on its
northern face, bubbles the great spring which forms the very source of
the Rio Grande del Norte. Every gulch upon its southern breast feeds the
rushing streams that furnish to the Rio San Juan all the water it gets
for its long journey through the wilderness.
[Illustration: EVA CLIFF.]
Silverton is forty five miles due north from Durango; and after leaving
the latter point the road leads straight up the Animas valley, here
broad and fertile, with green rounded hills sweeping up on each side.
Now and then these exchange their softly curving outlines for a
bluff-like form, exposing long vari-colored strata of cretaceous
sandstones, unbroken, but inclined upward toward the north, where their
beds have been gently lifted by a slow upheaval of the mountains. There
is much color in this part of the landscape, especially now, when the
rains of August have put a spring-like freshness of tint upon everything
verdant. The low, treeless benches between the track and the foot of the
hills, the open places beside the river, and the pasture-lands are all
glorious in a dense mass of sun-flowers, which stand knee-high, with
blossoms scarcely larger than a dollar. Thus the outlines of the ridges
running in endless succession down to the water's edge, are defined in
gilded ranks, that rise behind one another for miles as you proceed. The
whole foreground is enchromed; and this valley is the veritable home of
Clytie.