MEXICO FROM THE RIO GRANDE TO THE MOUNTAINS
_April 28th, 1849._ The company started today, and I expect to follow
early tomorrow, and join the men who are now fifteen miles ahead of me.
I am compelled to remain to attend to the property of the ten men who
have died of cholera in this accursed place; it goes to New Orleans
by boat in the morning. Why Col. Webb, who had been in this country
before, selected this route instead of a more northerly one, I cannot
understand, but it is now too late to change, and we must go forward
with courage.
_April 29th. Canales Run._ We are all on our way, having come to
Ceralvo, [Cerralvo][14] beautiful for its old mission, and curious
in its irrigating canals, bridges and old church, still it has the
apathetic lassitude of everything Mexican. We rode on to Robber's
Rancho, over undulating wastes of hard, unprofitable soil. The palmettos
are here by the thousand, and their fantastic shapes gave the appearance
of horsemen of gigantic size, riding through grass almost as tall.
_May 1st._ Robber's Rancho, once a fine hacienda, was burned by the
Americans, in the last war, for the rascality of its owners; it is on a
beautiful plain, but brush has grown up in the now neglected fields, and
all is in ruins. Here we came near losing Lieut. Browning from cholera,
but he was saved by Dr. Trask's indefatigable exertions.
_May 12th. Near Monterey._ We have been here four days having horses and
mules shod, and I will take my pencil notes and write up my journal to
date.
We were at Robber's Rancho a week, waiting for Bachman, Elmslie and
Carrol, who had been left with Doubleday. As soon as they rejoined us
we moved on to Papogias [Popagallos] then to Ramos where we met some
French traders with a long train of mules and their "cargoes."
Ramos was followed by Marin and Aquafrio; all present a dilapidated
appearance, very different from what was seen when the country was
under the fine system of irrigation, and the remains of past opulence
everywhere sadden the traveller.
We reached Walnut Springs, five miles from Monterey, on the 8th of
May, and are taking needed rest in the shade of the Spanish walnuts,
and enjoying the delightful water, which bursts out in a fountain of
six to eight feet wide, and about a foot deep, clear but not cool, yet
pleasant to drink. Monterey is at the base of a range of mountains,
which surround it on all sides except to the north. Its entrance over
bridges, many of them very picturesque, shows abundance of water, which
irrigates the beautiful valley for miles beyond Molino.
Where did I hope to be at this date? Yet here we are scarcely started;
one month lost in sickness and sorrow, and one in the re-organization
of our company. We are full two months behind our reckoning, and on
a route of which I never approved, but which, when I took command, we
were already compelled to pursue. We are having the horses and mules
shod, for their feet are so tender we can not continue without. We
travel, usually twenty or twenty-five miles a day, as the chance for
water and forage for our horses occurs. The uncertainty of provisions
is such that we have to carry corn for one or two feeds ahead, which
adds considerably to the weight of our packs, and gives us a good deal
of trouble.
As I sit here, I hear the notes of many new birds, as well as those well
known, and the sky overhead is bluer than any Italy ever presented to
me. Monterey, where I have been several times, is an improvement on the
other Mexican towns we visited, but full of foreigners of all nations
come to prey on the ignorance of the poor inhabitants. All now seems
well regulated, but I dread shortness of provisions and we have to be
very careful. I have not heard from home since the date of February
19th and now must wait, I fear, until we reach, if we ever do reach,
the Pacific coast.
The company are all tired, the work is new and it takes time to become
accustomed to the broken night's rest. At midnight I take the rounds of
our camp in moonlight, starlight or darkness, to see that all is well,
and that none relax in vigilance, so requisite to safety in this country
of thieves. This gives me only six hours of sleep, for after we have
had supper, it is eight o'clock, and we get up at four a. m., so that
taking out the two hours nightly, reduces me to that amount, but "habit
is second nature." If you hear of any more men coming to California
overland, tell them three shirts, six pairs of socks, one coat, one
great coat, two pairs of trousers and two pairs of boots, should be all
the personal luggage. No man should bring more than he can carry.
I have had quite a scene with the Alcalde here. Our camp was infested
with pigs, which came from every direction every morning and evening
when we fed our horses and mules. Of course, we could not see them
robbed, stones and hatchets were abundant, and some pistols went off,
which the boys declared did so accidentally. We could not find the
owners, so I went to [the] Alcalde to pay for them, taking an Italian
boy as interpreter. The boy instead of saying what I told him, which
was simply to ask the value and pay it, added on his own account, that
if his Honor was not satisfied with what we gave, we would come in
and take the town. Naturally the Alcalde resented this, and I found my
little vagabond had been telling his own story, not mine. Upon matters
being explained by a more trustworthy source, the Alcalde was perfectly
content, and bowed me out with much courtesy.
The adroitness of the Mexicans in thieving equals that of the rascals
at Naples. In two instances pistols have been taken from the holsters
whilst the owners held the bridles of their horses. All this has tended
to excite revenge, and without good discipline outbreaks of temper might
have occurred, which would undoubtedly have brought us into trouble, as
happened with several other companies on the road to Mazatlan.
_Saltillo, May 20th._ Here we are, thank God, fairly on our way, and at
present in good health and spirits. We travel about twenty-five miles a
day, but have great difficulty in keeping our horses and mules in good
order, as there is no grass for grazing purposes, and corn varying in
quality, but always high in price, from one dollar to fifty cents per
bushel.
When we left Monterey we followed the road to Rinconada, which is a
beautifully located rancho, well watered and with a long avenue of
pollard poplars or cotton-woods; the boles not more than ten or fifteen
feet high, so that the flawy gusts that are like little hurricanes for a
few seconds, and which come from the mountains which surround the place
in every direction, cannot blow them down. Here we saw the first magua
plants, from the juice of which pulke [pulque] is made, and afterwards
muscale [mescal] distilled. Muscale in taste is more like creosote and
water, slightly sweetened, than anything I can compare it to, and I
suppose it is about as wholesome.
The peons who do the work of the hacienda are completely Indian in
character, appearance and habits, sometimes marvelous in their strength
and activity, and sometimes surprising us with their unsurpassed
laziness. The women, patient things, like all squaws, carry wood, water,
and do all the household labor.
From this beautiful little amphitheatre among the hills we wound along
parched arroyos and valleys, and I could not but be struck with the
wise provision of nature for the protection of its creations. Almost
all the trees have tap roots, or if fibrous, they run so deep in search
of moisture, that they are often longer than the tree is high. In the
arroyos where the earth was often washed from the roots, I had a good
opportunity of confirming my conclusions. We proceeded up a deep ravine,
until we began the ascent of the famed pass of Rinconada, intended to
be defended by Santa Anna, but abandoned when our troops approached.
How any force of artillery could have deserted such a position I can
not conceive, for the unfinished fort commands the road for two miles
at least.
The view from the Fort was most superb, but we were tired of mountains,
and longed for shade and woods. Crossing this pass we had our first
indication of increasing altitude, and above us on the rocks were pines
and cedars. They had the showers we longed for and saw passing, while
almost smothered in dust, our hair and whiskers white with it, and we
looked like a troop of grey veterans.
We approached Saltillo over a broad plain, dotted with ranchos for some
miles before we reached the town, which we entered through lanes of
adobe walls, and finally came to the principal street, and commenced the
ascent of the hill on which the town proper stands. It is all Mexican
in its character, one story houses, flat roofed and having a fortified
look, as if no one trusted his neighbor. The public square is a fine
one, and the cathedral front the most beautiful I have seen on this side
of the Atlantic. The workmen who did the carving came from Spain, and
the stone from the Rocky Mountains, so goes the story. Saltillo has many
good points, it is clean, well regulated, and [has] better buildings
than any I have seen except at Monterey, yet we pushed on, and have made
our camp at Buena Vista, six miles further on. High mountains bound our
view on every side. Buena Vista had its battle, and few of us but have
some friend or acquaintance sleeping there.
_Parras, May 28th._ I shall never forget the Buena Vista Camp, the night
of the 23d and 24th, it was the night previous to our departure for this
place; the guard was slow in coming out, Montrose Graham was guard over
my tent that watch, and as Simson called his guard to order, and faced
me, where I had risen up to see who were changing, George Weed let his
rifle fall. The cock was down on the nipple, contrary to a positive
order; in falling, the head of the hammer struck the ground first, and,
as if the trigger had been pulled, it went off. An exclamation came
from either side, one "Mr. Audubon's killed," the other from me: "Who's
hurt?" A groan from poor Graham was the answer. We were all hurry for
lights and water, and the Doctor. All loved Graham, he was the handsome
man of the original party of ninety-eight, just twenty-two, and the
Captain of his tent, "The Hailstorm Mess," so called by Lieut. Browning,
from its go-ahead principles.
The ball had passed through his ancle, and both Drs. Perry and Trask
said he could not go on for some weeks. So it was decided to leave his
cousin, Molinear, with him, a more practical physician than most of his
age, and as much money as we could spare, that they could follow us or
return home, as seemed most judicious.
Frank Carrol, as good a man as I ever wish on such an expedition, found
accommodations for Graham, and remained with him at Saltillo. How we
parted from them only those can know who have been compelled to leave
friends in a strange land.
For several days our road continued over long hills, and parched
valleys, and on the last day of this travel we had a most extraordinary
view. We had climbed a hill, not more than three hundred feet high,
but very steep, and reached a broad plain five or six miles wide, but
much longer. On every side was a chain of sterile volcanic mountains;
it was, for one view, most wonderful; it looked as if an immense lake,
that threatened to cover the mountains, had suddenly been changed to
earth. Crossing this plain and rounding one of the desolate peaks, we
came to the hacienda of Don Emanuel Hivarez, who has five hundred peons
at work. The water used for irrigation, without which nothing could
be grown, is brought in an adobe aqueduct for several miles. It is an
old settlement and very dirty, abounding in fleas and vermin of all
descriptions. Yet when one comes to a hacienda with water all round,
brought from some mountain stream, the contrast between the desolate
land we have travelled and the exuberant luxuriance of vines, figs and
magua gives a beauty which almost makes me, with my hatred of everything
Mexican, admire our surroundings. Mocking-birds are all around us, and
could I linger to explore, I have no doubt I could have added many new
birds to my list, but with cholera hanging round, breaking out, in a
mild form it is true, at every place we stop at, we must push on.
We daily pass cacti of three species, as well as miles of aloes, yet not
enough nourishment to feed a horse in the whole of them, and through
this country we start tomorrow for Chihuahua. We have one hundred
and fifty-seven mules and horses and fifty-seven men, and are in good
spirits. We hear Chihuahua is our best route, but we may have different
information at Parral and go through Sonora.
_May 29th._ Parras is like all Mexican towns I have seen, a few French
and Americans, some with a Mexican wife, others with a housekeeper; but
all indolent, keeping little stores and warehouses and making immense
profits. It is celebrated for wines and brandy, made principally by
foreigners.
_May 30th._ At three o'clock this morning I was taken with sharp pains,
nausea and other symptoms of cholera, and for the first time was obliged
to ride in the ambulance, but towards evening was able to be up again,
though very much debilitated.
_June 2d._ We left Parras at five this morning, and at dusk reached
El Paso [El Pozo], and camped on a gravelly hill. For miles a barren
desert lined both sides of our road, until we came to a swamp tract,
with extraordinary luxuriance of rank weeds, no grass, and passing this
entered a dismal thicket of chaparral.
_June 3d, Sunday._ We left El Paso at eight this morning, and rode
until ten, when we reached a deserted rancho, and with some trouble
encamped near a river bed with waterholes along it. A beautiful lagoon
with water holes a hundred yards long enabled us all to take refreshing
baths, and I watched with pleasure the languid flight of the great blue
heron, changing his position as he was approached. Two Mexicans, hunting
cattle, came to us here, and Lieut. Browning bought a wild mule, for
which he gave a few dollars and a broken down mule.
_June 2d._ [?] Again we have been through swamp-like country, crossed
the dry bed of a river, with white sand glaring painfully in our faces,
and found acres of wild sunflowers, and patches of what looked like
horehound, then we came to a cottonwood bottom, gradually changing to a
golden willow, which grew so luxuriantly on both sides of the road that
I was reminded of the rich bottom lands of Ohio.
At noon we came to Alamito, a large rancho, or small village of
scoundrels. In bargaining for water, which is only to be had from wells,
we found the men who had it for sale were making their own terms with
our rascally guide, and Simson stepped up and began talking to them.
They pretended they could not understand, but on my tapping my revolver
they instantly became most intelligent.
Here we had the first attempt at a "stampede" made upon us. Those
intending to run off the "cabalgada"[15] of a travelling party, take
a strong horse, cover him with the skin of an ox which has been newly
killed, putting the fleshy side out, tie all the bells they have to the
horse, and fastening an enormous bunch of dry brush to his tail, set
fire to it, and start him off with yells and shouts through the camp
of those to be stampeded. Horses and mules, keen of scent and hearing,
receive warnings of danger through both faculties, and are so frightened
they will break any ordinary fastening. No matter which way they go,
the vagabonds are such beautiful riders they soon turn the herd to any
course they like, and make their escape, for those robbed have nothing
to follow on; for, even if a few animals are left, the speed of the
thieves can never be equalled. In this instance our vigilant guard saved
us; what would have become of us if they had not, I dare not think.
_June 7th, Mapimi._ After a ride of twenty leagues we reached this place
last night just before twelve, and lay down without food for either
ourselves or our horses, and the poor animals had only had water once
that day. The journey had been well enough. From time to time we enjoyed
a pleasant shade through a larger growth of musquits than common, and
again the country was bare of all vegetation. Tired though we were,
our sleep was poor, for we were in a sort of barnyard full of hogs, and
surrounded by thieving Mexicans.
This is a mining town and has several smelting furnaces where charcoal
is used. Lead, and about an ounce of silver to every hundred pounds
of ore, is produced, so the silver pays for the smelting, and in some
of the mines copper is found. The furnaces externally are picturesque,
not high, but with eccentric peaks, mitre-shaped, and harmonizing well
with the rugged mountains which surround this dirty little town, where
idleness and dirt, dogs and fleas abound.
_June 9th._ We rested a day at Mapimi, and reached La Cadena this
evening, having come nine leagues; we shall stay here tomorrow to have
the tires of our wagon set and to rest. This rancho has a fortified
appearance, and mounts one small cannon, it looks able to resist a heavy
attack from the Indians.
The road to this place is almost level for twenty miles, when, entering
a gorge with abundant grass, it winds up a gradual ascent for two or
three miles, and to the west we had a grand view, in the middle of
which stood the hacienda. A long front of white wall, a tower at each
end, with the usual archway in the center, over which was mounted a
small brass piece, made the whole show of the establishment; and though
formidable to the Apaches, who are about here in numbers, to us was only
picturesque. Today we lost two of our best horses with cholera; the poor
beasts suffering so much in the manner that men do, that it was painful
to have our own troubles brought back so forcibly to our minds.
_June 10th._ We left for Pantilla at eight last night; it was eleven
leagues distant; and being a deserted rancho no food could be had there,
so we intended watering at the place, taking a short rest, then going
seven leagues farther to La Zarca. Two hours after we started the moon
rose behind us, and truly we presented a most picturesque appearance.
Some in coats, some in blankets Mexican fashion, others in shooting
jackets; we grew very tired and longed for sleep, but it was not to be
taken except on horseback. Morning came and we stopped for an hour to
graze our horses and mules, and rode past the deserted rancho without
stopping to water, and came on to La Zarca, having had our poor animals
under the saddle for twenty hours, during which we made sixty-four
miles, ourselves only having to eat what we had expected for one meal.
As we came up the mountains that overlooked this plain, we saw the first
antelopes, and I was at one time within two hundred yards of three, but
I did not shoot, and was never so near again. Many black-tailed hare
have been seen and shot, and their variety of pelage would make twenty
species.
_June 12th._ Today, Sunday, we are resting men and animals, and
tranquillity is all about us. These long journeys are very injurious
to our horses; one such long trip leaves them much more jaded and
impoverished than two shorter ones, even though, as now, we always take
a day's rest.
La Zarca is beautiful to look at, the centre of attraction being a fine
clump of cotton-woods, letting the white walls of the hacienda shine
through them. We bought a beef, killed it, and our meal was speedily
cooked and eaten. Looking day after day on the same desolate scene,
rendered so only by the want of rain, rarely camped in shade, this
journey becomes wearisome beyond belief.
The broad plain on which this rancho is situated once grazed six
thousand head of horse, all owned by one person, but when the Spanish
government was given up for no government, which is the case now,
Indians and Mexicans supplied themselves with stolen horses in
abundance.
_June 13th._ From La Zarca to Cerro Gordo the country is flat and
uninteresting, barren in most places of all but musquit bushes. Every
mile or so for the first few leagues we crossed a beautiful little
brook, which was, however, gradually absorbed by the thirsty sand,
a water hole and bed of sand appearing alternately, until the water
wholly disappeared. We made two days' journey of it, going the first
day eighteen miles, where we found good grazing on partially dry grass,
better for horses and mules than corn alone, which half the time has
been all we could get for them. Our most serious trouble now is the sore
backs of our mules produced by the pack saddles, which were made in our
own country, and are too broad for the backs of the Mexican mules. Cerro
Gordo is a miserable den of vagabonds, with nothing to support it but
its petty garrison of a hundred and fifty cavalry mounted on mules. We
were hooted and shouted at as we passed through, and called "Gringoes,"
etc., but that did not prevent us from enjoying their delicious spring
water; it was cool and delightful. Our men rushed to it, and drank two
pint cups full each, hardly breathing between times; it was the first
good water we had had since leaving the Mississippi.
Here we were visited by a member of a Mexican travelling circus, who
asked our protection as far as El Valle, which we promised them. The
party consisted of five, one woman and four men. The lady rode as we
used to say in Louisiana "leg of a side," on a small pacing pony; the
two horses of the ring carried only their saddles, two pack mules, four
small trunks, and four jaded horses the rest of the plunder. The four
men went one on foot, driving the packs and continually refitting and
repacking, the other three riding. One man had two Chihuahua dogs about
six inches long, stuffed in his shirt bosom, another a size larger on
the pommel of his saddle. A second man was in grand Spanish costume,
on a small but blooded grey horse, with a large dragoon sword on his
left, and a Mexican musket made about 1700, which would have added to
an antiquary's armory. They told us they had everything they owned with
them, so that if alone, and attacked by the Apaches, whom we hear of
continually but never see, their loss would be a very serious one to
them.
_June 14th._ We left Cerro Gordo at eight a. m. and ascended steadily
up hill for about two miles, the country poor and uninteresting, and the
miles seem to stretch out interminably. We are now camped at El Noria.
_June 15th._ Rio Florida. We are repaid for our tiresome journey by
the shade and refreshment we find here; the old mission is the most
commodious we have seen, built of nearly white marble, the four pillars
next the church richly carved and almost perfect. When the old priests
had this broad valley tilled and irrigated by the convert Indians it
must indeed have been a scene of luxurious growth, and they, no doubt,
lived in great comfort, if isolation. Still the place is inland, and
indolence there as everywhere in Mexico reigns supreme. So fell Rio
Florida.
_June 17th._ From Rio Florida to El Valle, ten leagues, our road in
places has been most beautiful; undulating plains like those of Texas,
and we saw the first streaks of iron mixed with the limestone which for
weeks we have been traveling through. We shall be glad of any change,
for our lips are cracked, and so sore as to give pain and discomfort
all the time, while our hands are cracked and split as in mid-winter.
Here at El Valle, sometimes called Bia Valle, we are encamped in a grove
of cotton-wood, which, I should say, had been planted forty or fifty
years ago, and the gardens when irrigated must have been most luxuriant.
We are now in an iron district, and the walls of the Jacals have changed
from white to red. The hillsides, too, have changed in color; some are
reddish and bare, others grey, from dead grass and lime underneath.
Bia or El Valle is situated on another of those beautiful creeks that
from time to time occur in this part of Mexico; it contains a motley
crowd, doubtful of face and of character; largely half-breeds, and
speaking Spanish, so murdered into patois, that Lieut. Browning, a
fluent Spanish scholar, was some time learning to understand their
language. Our circus party left us here; the woman who was really the
queen of the show came to thank us for our protection, which she did
most gracefully, and gave us a courteous invitation to her show and
fandango, the termination to every Mexican entertainment, wedding,
christening, and even battle. I could not go, but several of the party
did, and pronounced the senoritas quite good looking.
_June 18th, Parral._[16] Half way between El Valle and Parral, at
a rancho on one of the bends of the Rio Florida, is a most splendid
specimen of meteoric iron, almost pure in quality. It is, at its highest
point, four feet above the ground, and from two to five feet one way, by
two to three the other, very irregular. Where it is worn by the passers
by rubbing their hands it is bright, and looks like a lump of pure ore.
A long, steep zigzag descent, rocky beyond belief, and painful to our
poor mules, many of which had lost shoes, brought us into Parral, which
is wild and picturesque in situation as well as in buildings, but yet
desolate.
The balconies, so to speak, built in front of the silver mines, high
on the sides of the mountains which entirely surround the town, give
it a fortified appearance, and convey the idea of a respectability
which we have not seen since we left Saltillo. We skirted the town,
and are encamped on the banks of the river or creek that runs through
the centre; our tents were soon in place and guard set, for we were
immediately surrounded by at least a hundred idlers. While talking to
some Americans, Lieut. Browning had his pistol stolen from his holster,
while standing within three feet of his mule. This makes the fifth lost
in this way. He drew his revolver and ordered the crowd off, and in
an instant the ground was clear, and the fear that characterizes these
miserable creatures was shown as they hurried off, holding their hats
to shield the back of their heads.
We are, comparatively speaking, camped in a paradise, for we have
pollarded cotton-woods to give us shade, a dashing little brook, and
an aviary of birds to enliven or calm, to cheer and encourage us, and
are in real enjoyment of rest from fatigue and pain, all but my thigh,
which is very painful from the presence of a large boil.
_June 20th. Parral._ So far our prospects ahead are good, and we have
determined not to take the Chihuahua route, but the mountain one from
this to Jesus Maria, and so on, as we are informed from the best
authorities that we can go that way without suffering from want of
water or food, and arrive at the mouth of the Gila, not three hundred
miles upstream. We are told of both routes by those who have personally
travelled them, and learn that by taking to the mountains we shall be in
pine forests, and that deer and bear are frequently found, so that we
shall be able to have some variety from the monotonous fare of no meat
or only tough beef, which we have had for three months.
All would have been well had we not encountered cholera, and lost that
never-to-be-caught-up-with time at Davis's rancho; and no party would
have beaten us over. We have passed the Comanche country, and now have
to be on our guard against the Apaches. No one knows how constantly I
miss my dear friend Dr. Kearney in times like these, especially when a
deviation from our contemplated route is in question.
The country we have passed through is desolate in the extreme, parched,
arid, barren, except where irrigated.
Parral is a mining town where silver is found, but there is no proper
machinery for satisfactory work. There are about seven thousand
inhabitants of the usual mixed variety.
_June 27th, 1849._ Here at Parral we have found some Americans, and,
as ever, friends among them; Mr. Hicks and Mr. Miller in particular;
but here unfortunately Hinckley, Liscomb and Teller were taken ill, and
our departure was delayed. Teller was very ill from the first with a
sort of cholera. We took him into the town for better accommodation and
rest, but he sank rapidly; we were unable to save him, and could only
alleviate his sufferings. His cousin and myself watched over him with
heavy hearts, and depression again settled heavily on our camp.