THE PEOPLE OF THE BLUE WATER AND THEIR HOME
Of no people of the Southwest, perhaps, has so much utter nonsense been
written as of this interesting People of the Blue Water, the _pai_
(people) of the _vasu_ (blue) _haha_ (water)--the Havasupais. As far as
we know, Padre Garcés was the first white man to visit them in their
Cataract Canyon home, and he speaks of his visit in his interesting
Diary translated and annotated by the lamented Elliott Coues shortly
before his death.
Captain Sitgreaves, Lieutenant Ives, Captain Palfrey, Major J. W.
Powell, Lieut. F. H. Cushing, and others in turn visited them, but very
little was either known or written about them when, over a dozen years
ago, I was conducted to their marvellously picturesque home by Mr. W.
W. Bass, the well-known guide of the Grand Canyon.
The journey on that occasion was a remarkable one for me, as, though
I was fairly well versed in the trails of the Grand Canyon (having
then descended four of them), I had never seen such a trail as was the
Topocobya Trail down which we descended late in the evening. Leaving
our wagon, after sixteen miles' drive through the Kohonino Forest
from Bass Camp, we packed food, blankets, and cameras on horses and
burros, and, after two miles of travel in what in Western parlance is
called a "draw," the real head of the trail was reached. We walked in
the closing dusk of day to the edge of the precipice and looked off
to where our guide told us we must shortly be travelling. Far below,
almost a thousand feet, without the sign of a trail, it seemed as if
he must be hoaxing us. Soon, however, as we followed him, we found
ourselves on a rocky shelf, and then began the most stupendous series
of zigzags I had ever been on. Back and forth we wended, our trail a
mere scratch on the rocky slope, here descending rugged steps, where a
misstep meant sure and awful death. Higher and higher the walls rose
around us; darker and darker grew the night; more weird and awesome the
wind and weather carved figures sculptured on the sides and summits
of the walls, and still down we went. At last we reached a vast
cavernous-like place where Topocobya Spring is located. A small flow of
water comes from the solid rock, and there we watered our horses and
filled up our canteens prior to advancing on our seemingly never-ending
descent. At last we reached the level, and there, lighting a fire, made
camp and rested before penetrating farther into the deep and mystic
recesses of the Havasupais. Early in the morning we began the farther
descent. Mile after mile we traversed, first riding on the dry bed
of the winter stream, then entering the narrower walls formed by the
erosion of centuries through first one stratum of rock, then another.
Now we were riding on a narrow shelf, on one side of which was a high
wall, and on the other a deep, narrow ravine, in the bottom of which
the erosive forces have cut a number of holes,--small troughs or bath
tubs in the sandstone, where during the rainy season pools of delicious
water may be found. In a short time we were riding up or down literal
stairways cut in the rock, or rounding "Cape Horns," where we held our
breath at the dreadful consequences that would ensue were horse or man
to slip. Entering Rattlesnake Canyon our whole course was on a shelving
slope of rock, over which even experienced horses tread gingerly. At
last we came to the bed of the main canyon, and then for five or six
miles we journeyed on, in the sand or the gravelly wash, for the stream
that flows through this narrow canyon in storm times has no other law
than its own wilful force. To-day we ride in one place, to-morrow's
storm changes everything. After numberless twinings and twistings,
all of which, however, gave a persistent northwesterly direction to
our travelling, we came in sight of a score or so of large and fine
cottonwood trees, whose height far surpassed the smaller mesquite,
cottonwood, and other trees that line much of the canyon's bed. These
large trees told us our journey was practically at an end, for here
begins the outpouring of the numberless springs that make the stream
we can already hear rushing in its pebbly bed lower down. Without any
premonition they spring out in large and small volume at the foot of
some of these trees, and the Havasu--the Blue Water--is made. Every few
yards adds to the water's volume, for more springs empty their flow
into it. The first and only real buildings are the schoolhouse and the
homes of the farmer and teachers, and then, at once, begin the small
farms of the Havasupais.
Stand on the slope here, where a mass of talus rises from the trail
side, so that we can survey the whole of the picturesque scene. Note
its setting! Towering walls of regularly laminated red sandstone,
though the layers are of differing thicknesses, wind in and out, as
if following the meandering course of the stream, and over this the
perfect blue of the Arizona sky. These make the most marvellously
picturesque dwelling-place of America. Even Acoma's mesa heights and
Walpi's precipice-surrounded walls are not more picturesque, and when
you add the charm of the verdure nourished by the sweet waters of the
Havasu, the picture is complete in its unique attractiveness.
Not even in the Green Emerald Isle, or the county of Devonshire, or
the vineyards of France, is richer verdure to be found than fills up
the open space between these great walls. Willows reveal the winding
path of the Havasu, and everywhere else are the fields of the Indians.
Patches of corn, watermelons, squash, canteloupes, beans, sunflowers,
chili, onions, and alfalfa, with here and there peach, mesquite, and
cottonwood trees, abound. As a rule these patches are protected and
set off one from another by hedges of wattled willows or fences of
rudely placed cottonwood poles. Through the fields trails meander in
every direction, and they are also "cut up" by irrigating ditches. Some
of the better irrigated fields are divided into small sections--like
the squares of a checker-board--in order that the water may be more
systematically distributed.
The peaceful _hawas_ of the Havasupais nestle here and there among
these verdant growths. Themselves covered with willows, it is often
hard to distinguish them from the trees, were it not that at our
approach small groups of men, women, and children, some clad in
flaming red, others in all the colors of the rainbow, and some in even
less than Mark Twain's descriptive smile, stand forth and reveal the
dwelling-places. Now and again the curling line of bluish smoke of the
camp-fire reveals the hawa, and we gladly avail ourselves of one or the
other of these marks of identification to make ourselves more familiar
with the real home of the Havasupais. After investigation we find there
are several distinct types of houses, all simple and primitive, and yet
each different from the other.
Chickapanagie's summer home is a type of the simplest character. Two
upright poles with forks at the top, standing about six feet high, are
placed in line with each other fifteen feet apart. A cross-beam is
placed on these uprights. Then a row of poles, about eight to nine feet
in length, is sloped against the cross-beam. These are covered with
willows, and there is the completed hawa.
What queer dwelling-places men have, and ever have had, and possibly
ever will have. At the Paris Exposition of 1889 one whole street was
devoted to a history of inhabited dwellings. At one end were the
earliest "homes" of the paleolithic age, caves and huts, followed
by the Lake Dwellings and the wickiups, tepees, or tents of the
present-day Indian, the latter being the same primitive structures the
aborigines have ever used. The other end of the street was devoted to
the domestic architecture of our own day, and there, in a few hours,
one could study almost every known form of home structure. But who
could ever reproduce some of the homes these Havasupais live in? Wicker
huts in the open, and caves in the faces of solid sandstone walls two
thousand feet and more in height, these in turn surmounted by domes and
obelisks and towers and cupolas that no modern architect dare attempt
to rival.
These massive walls absorb the heat of the sun in summer time and thus
keep the canyon intensely hot both night and day. The large flow of
water and the dense growth of willows and other verdure keep the soil
constantly moist, so there is a humidity in the atmosphere which, in
hot weather, makes it very oppressive.
This moisture renders the canyon cold in winter, although the
thermometer never ranges very low. Snow falls but seldom, and then
disappears almost as soon as it lights. In 1898 there was snow that
stayed on the ground for several hours, but this was one of the
severest winters they have had for many years.
A hundred yards or so below where the springs commence to flow Wallapai
Canyon enters from the left. It is similar in appearance to, though
narrower than, Havasu (Cataract) Canyon, the walls being of red
sandstone, the strata of which are as regular as if laid by masons. A
few hundred yards beyond the junction of the two canyons a remarkable
piece of Indian engineering is in evidence, showing how the Indians
ascend from a lower to an upper platform. There is a drop here in
the stratum of some twenty-five or thirty feet, and to overcome this
obstacle the Havasupais built a cage with logs which they filled with
stones, and then from this stretched rude logs up and across, to which
other logs were fastened, thus making a fairly substantial bridge from
the lower to the upper stratum over which their horses as well as
themselves could safely pass. The trail from this point ascends through
tortuous canyons a distance of seven miles to the territory occupied by
the Wallapais.
Just below the entrance to Wallapai Canyon a vast mass of talus has
fallen, and two hundred yards farther down, the Cataract Canyon trail
goes over a portion of this talus to avoid the creek, which has here
crossed from the other side of the canyon and has become a rapidly
flowing stream some two feet or more in depth. Attached to this talus
is a large mass of solid concrete made of pebbles, rocks, and sand that
have been washed down in the creek and made cohesive by the lime from
the water. Here the canyon narrows again and the stupendous walls seem
very near to the willow-fringed stream and the small fields. A few
hundred feet farther it opens out again, and as one rides on the trail
he gets exquisite views of the gray stone walls superposed on the red
sandstones to the northwest. These gray and creamy sandstones, with
their numerous and delicate tints and shades, afford most delightful
contrasts to the glaring and monotonous red of the walls beneath.
From this point we gain our first view of the so-called Havasupai
stone gods, named by them "Hue-gli-i-wa," the story of which is told
elsewhere.
These rocky pillars with their supporting walls seem as if they were
once a part of a great wall that entirely spanned the canyon, the
towers being sentinel outlooks to guard from attack both above and
below. The portion of the wall to the right, as one descends the
canyon, has been washed away, but the tower-crowned mass to the left
still preserves a broad sweep into the very heart of the canyon as if
it would bar all further progress. Following the sweep of this curve
and passing the wall immediately underneath the outermost of the two
towers, we view from the trail which ascends a mass of talus at this
point another widened-out part of the canyon, which seems entirely
covered with willows, here and there overshadowed by a few straggling
cottonwoods. This is where the ceremonial dances of the Havasupais
take place.
On the summit of the wall on the other side of the canyon from the
Hue-gli-i-wa are two stone objects, one named Hue-a-pa-a, and the one
farther down the canyon, Hue-pu-keh-i. These are great objects of
reverence, for they represent the ancestors of the Havasupai race.
Hue-a-pa-a--the man--has a child upon his back and two more by his
side, and he is calling to his wife--Hue-pu-keh-i--to hurry along, as
the baby is hungry and needs his dinner. The full breasts of the stone
woman show that she is a nursing mother.
Slightly below these stone figures, and on the right-hand side of the
canyon, is the old fort, where in the days of fighting the Havasupais
were wont to retire when attacked. The fort is impregnable on three
sides, being precipitous, and on the fourth is accessible only up a
narrow trail, which is guarded by piles of rocks which are ready to be
tumbled, even by a woman, upon the heads of foes who attempt to ascend.
The fortifications and stones for defence still remain, but it is many
years since they were used for their original purposes.
One's mind becomes very active as he looks upon this tribe of Indians
and thinks of their traditions, history, and life. So far, their almost
entirely isolated condition has been their preservation, although, sad
to say, much of their earlier contact with our civilization was not of
the best character.
Even in this land of our boasted Christianity it is true that the
strong prey upon the weak. The domination of physical force is giving
way to the domination of mental force, but which is the greater evil?
Why should the man born with a mental advantage over his fellows
exercise that advantage any more than the man born with a physical
advantage? We have not quite ceased to worship the Sullivans,
the Corbetts, and the Fitzsimmonses, and, where we have, we have
transferred our worship to the intellectually strong, many of whom are
no more worthy our homage than the prize fighters. So now it is the
intellectually strong who prey upon the intellectually weak, and, as in
the physical conflict, it is inevitable that the weak "go to the wall."
In simple cunning the Havasupai Indian may be our superior, but in deep
craft he is "out of the field." His bow and arrow tipped with obsidian
or flint pitted against our repeating rifle; his rolling of heavy rocks
opposed to our Gatling guns; his mule and burro against our iron horse;
and his pine torch against our electric light,--all demonstrate him to
be in his intellectual minority, or at an intellectual disadvantage. He
makes a fine figure in our romances, but I sadly fear that the knell of
his doom has sounded, and that a few generations hence he will be no
more.
[Illustration: HAVASUPAI FORTRESS AND HUE-GLI-I-WA, OR ROCK FIGURES.]
Wallapai and Havasu Canyons, far more than the Grand Canyon, meet
the popular idea as to what a canyon is. Their walls are narrow and
precipitous, and one staying in their depths must be content with a
late sunrise and an early sunset. Just above the rude bridge before
described are several natural reservoirs of water. Here the canyon is
not more than from one hundred and fifty to two hundred and fifty feet
wide. This close proximity of the walls, which fairly overshadow one,
compels one to feel his insignificance far more than when he stands in
the wider and more comprehensive vastness of the Grand Canyon.
From leading Havasupais I learn that many years ago the various tribes
of this region were at war one with another, until finally a treaty
of peace was entered into and boundaries defined. The Paiutis were
to remain in Nevada and Utah and not cross the Colorado River, the
Wallapais had their region to the west of Havasu Canyon, the Mohaves,
Hopis, Pimas, Apaches, Navahoes, Chimehuevis, and the rest their
prescribed limits, over which they were not to go without permission
from the chiefs into whose territory they wished to pass. And,
generally speaking, this treaty has been observed.
Of the exquisitely beautiful waterfalls that give the commonly accepted
name to Havasu Canyon, viz., Cataract Canyon, I have not space here to
treat. I have already somewhat fully described them in my book on the
Grand Canyon.