ACROSS THE MEXICAN MOUNTAINS TO ALTAR
_June 28th._ Left Parral at noon, leaving Carroll, E. A. Lambert, J.
S. Lambert, J. Black, Pennypacker and Joseph Lambert to follow after
burying poor Teller. Before this we had sold our Jersey wagon for
$275.00 and I refused $250.00 for two mules, as I did not dare to start
short handed in animals, their lives here are so uncertain. Our start
was late, not only owing to the loss of our companion, but because the
night previous we had a severe storm with thunder and lightning, which
had drenched tents, blankets and men; many of the men were stiff and
cold, and we had to dry the tents and blankets to save weight on our
mules, but when we did start, we wound along a glen that led to our
first view of the spurs of the eastern chain of the Rocky mountains,
and exclamations of delight burst forth from all.
We rode until six this evening, twenty miles, when another terrific
storm coming on, we camped on a grassy flat, among musquit and scrub
oaks, with good feeding for horses, but bad water. It rained too hard
to make a fire, so we dined on bread and Parral cheese, not bad I
assure you. Each man was served with a tin cup of brandy and water.
The question was brought up as to whether or not brandy was essential,
except in real illness. As we sat in the dim light of our lantern,
drenched and cold, we decided in the affirmative, and if our friends
could have seen us, they would, I think, have sanctioned the vote.
At ten o'clock I turned myself and my guard out, and Henry Mallory and
his twelve men were my relief; the guard being unusually large, thieves
here being so numerous that guards must be close enough to see each
other, even on a dark night.
_June 29th._ We passed through patches of beautiful scarlet lilies, that
sometimes were an acre in extent, gorgeous and splendid, and contrasting
with an equally abundant blue-flowering plant like larkspur, but alas,
I am no botanist. We here came to the first great ascent we had made
for some time. Had we not been told that La Zarca was the highest point
in central Mexico, we should have thought ourselves a thousand feet
higher than at any previous time on our trip. Up we went through scrub,
post and live-oaks filled with mistletoe, and a most beautiful laurel,
with the stems and branches bright cinnamon orange. At last we arrived
at the top of the ridge, and came to a jutting point giving a view of
the most magnificent mountain pass that can be imagined. Our men gave a
shout for mere exultation, and I partook of their buoyant spirits, and
cried out: "Three cheers for these glorious hills," and such cheers!!
Echo after echo responded, and we gazed then in silence at the superb
cliffs, volcanic, basaltic, and sandstone, all discolored with the iron
prominent on the surface, and below us the beauties of a little torrent
that dashed on to the west as fast as I could have wished to go.
Our course was downward now, and as we descended the forest grew taller;
laurel, pine, oak, a wild cherry, a cedar, new to me, two feet six
inches in diameter, with balls and foliage like arbor vitae, and bark
furrowed like an ash, ornamented the beautiful gorge; besides there were
the common cedar and many splendid walnut trees. To describe the road
would be rather difficult; it was just passable, that is to say _could_
be passed; in many places not easy work for our packs. Most of us led
our horses, either to save them or ourselves, for a stumble might send
us two or three hundred feet down, and was not to be risked.
Just as we reached the valley Maybury was taken ill with what resembled
cholera, and could not ride on in the heat of the day, so Dr. Trask,
Simson, Mallory and Pennypacker remained behind with him. The rest of
us went on for ten miles, and encamped on a beautiful, rolling prairie
under some post and narrow-leaved swamp oaks. It rained most violently
as usual, as it has done every evening since we entered the mountains.
Fortunately, before it began Maybury and the men left to care for him
reached camp.
_June 30th._ A fine morning. As we had no fresh meat we took a little
bacon, our never failing standby, and going on came to Huajatita, and
camped two miles beyond. Here we bought a six-months-old calf for five
dollars, and abundance of corn for two dollars and fifty cents per cargo
(six bushels). I am so enchanted with the wild beauty all about us, that
I could almost stay months to enjoy it. It is all new to me; the hills
and mountains are different in shape from any I have seen; the plants,
trees, rock, all strange, and as we take our horses to the beautiful
creek to drink, curious fish come to look at their noses.
_July 1st._ Again our road was up hill, and most dangerous, so most of
us walked, but with all our care nearly lost two mules, by mis-steps.
The narrow passes are so worn by the trains of pack mules, that, to
insure safe footing, each mule puts his foot in the same worn hole that
other mules have trod, for, perhaps, fifty years previously. Two of
our train failing to do this rolled over four or five times, and how
they ever recovered their footing is a mystery; a horse under similar
conditions would have gone to the bottom.
To us, so long suffering from drought and bad water, the showers that
come daily in the afternoon about three o'clock, and the little streams
we cross, are most enchanting. The ride today was very interesting.
_July 2d._ We are leaving the mountains and I dread the plains again,
they are so monotonous. We found some wild grapes, and, to _us_, the
most matured were not sour. Liscomb was taken ill today with dysentery,
and we feared we should lose him. Tone put him on his horse, the easiest
we had, and Carroll was most kind to him; we were compelled to go on,
but we gave him short rests as frequently as we could.
Gradually the plain narrowed, and as we neared the ridge of mountains
which bounds one side of the valley of Santa Cruz, we passed the ruins
of a once beautiful Mission. It was a low, Gothic style of architecture,
built of yellowish white sandstone.
We waited in the shade of the walls of Santa Cruz to rest young Liscomb,
and the main company wound its way along to a rancho a few miles distant
where we could get corn for the horses and mules. I did not have time
to see enough of Santa Cruz to describe it. Like all the towns of this
part of the country, it has the remains of strong walls, that fifty
years ago gave safety from the incursions of the Indians.
As the day cooled we took Liscomb on, and crossed the Conchos River,
called by the natives, of course, "Rio Grande," as they call every
river in Mexico. On reaching camp I found Langdon Havens had killed
three glossy ibises at one shot; they are most abundant here, also
white egrets and green herons, and I was delighted to see buff-necked
Cormorants of California, and many other birds strange and new, but no
time have I to study them, or even to secure and prepare specimens, and
how could I carry them if I had them?
I was called here to see Carroll, who while measuring corn was taken
with a violent fit, after which he was so exhausted we had to leave
him behind with four men, and we rode ten miles further on, and at the
setting of the sun came to a little river, with high bluffs, and most
beautiful in the light and shade given by the clouds.
Our path has been most precipitous, alternately descending and
ascending, to and from the river. Never in any country have I seen more
beautiful lands; we rode through groves of water-oak, and what I should
call willow-oaks, with a sweet little acorn, almost as good as a nut,
occasionally pines and cedars; and there are many little brooks, in
nearly all of which are fish, so I presume there must be water holes
all the year round.
Antelopes are seen from time to time, but only one or two a day,
wonderfully scarce for a country apparently so well adapted for both
deer and antelopes. The black-tailed hare is seen too, but scarce,
compared to the numbers we saw after leaving Parras.
Leaving this place we rode along a sandy bottom, which in the rainy
season is the bed of a torrent. We left just before sunrise, and the
heavy dew of this country gave such a freshness to all vegetation that
nature seemed more luxuriant than ever. The prairies at this season
present to our view many beautiful flowers, nearly all of a most
delicate character, like primroses, larkspurs, sweet williams. Nettles
six feet high, their blue flowers almost hiding the rich green of their
stinging leaves, extend, sometimes, for miles along the sand bars.
The cactus seems to have been left behind. We now found quantities of
mushrooms, looking like the same species at home, and having the same
flavor both raw and cooked.
The minerals I cannot speak of, but Dr. Trask tells me that there is a
good deal of silver, and some gold in the earth mixed with quantities
of lead. The stone is sandstone, and now and then we see most beautiful
marbles, black and white, in strata, as if laid by hand.
We killed three pigeons today, and have seen many, of what I take to
be either Steller's Jay or the ultramarine, but they are so shy, we
cannot get at them. One of "the boys" gave me two young marmots, but I
cannot place them, though the spots are a good deal like the Mexican,
but not regular enough for that species. The land snail, which as far
as Monterey was abundant, has gradually disappeared, and we are now
free from it. The eatables in this country are scarce, no vegetables
except beans, onions, and a very small pea. Beans are seventy-five cents
an "Almud." Corn one and one half to three dollars a "fanega" (nearly
three bushels). Cattle, half grown, three to twelve dollars. Sheep from
a dollar and a half to two dollars. Hogs, strange to say, run up to
eighteen and twenty dollars, and are fattened expressly for the lard,
which is as high as eight dollars for twenty-five pounds, and a very
large, fat animal has sold for fifty dollars.
Concepcion, about the twentieth town of the name we have passed, is a
dirty little place, with a church and nunnery. The inhabitants are like
all other Mexicans, and are in eternal dread of the Apaches. So far we
have not seen a hostile Indian, and only once a trail, which was that
of the "Taromari" [Taraumara][17] tribe, and our guide said were not
Bravos. Many of the people take advantage of us as an escort, and run
along either before or behind, and at night camp near us.
_July 2d._ We wound along the meanderings of the river "Verde,"
sometimes smooth and again a dashing torrent, and reached "El Rancho
Arisachi," deserted by its original owners. It is worked by Tarimari
Indians and owned now by some one whose name we could not find out.
We tried to buy cattle, for we had had no fresh meat for several days;
but any we pointed out could not be bought, no owner could be found. I
told Van Horn, our best shot, to pick out the fattest yearling he could
find, and we would pay the owner if he came forward. The beast was no
sooner shot than a man claimed the price. By the time we had dressed
the animal, and packed the four quarters on our meat mules, no vestige
was seen of the dead animal—entrails, head, etc., being carried off by
the Indians.
From this rancho we had to leave our beautiful stream for a mountain
pass, and the first precipice we ascended cost Watkinson his horse;
the poor brute had no bones broken, but was so lame from his fall, that
we had to leave him behind. There was plenty of grass and water in the
valley near which he fell and we hoped he would be found and cared for,
not eaten, as among these Indians is the rule when horses or mules are
broken down or injured. In places our road was almost impassable, but
we reached the top of the first hill and had a view of the next, about
three times higher. We could see very distinctly the zig-zag line of our
road, in the red clay between the rocks and stones, and foresaw hard
work for ourselves and our animals. Down we went, and in half an hour
after began the new ascent. We were compelled to leave a mule here, and
to divide his pack between two or three other animals.
Soon after, we made the last ascent, most abrupt and trying of all,
but from the summit had a magnificent view of a broad plain such as
I have never seen surpassed. On either hand mountain after mountain
covered with oak and pine, and contrasts of sun and shade were before
us, and the velvety distance ended in a rainbow. After a heavy descent
we encamped on the brink of a little creek, overhung by tall pines.
Here we saw two elks, and Jack Black, mounted on a tired mule thought he
could get near enough to have a shot, but after going about two miles,
changed his mind.
_July 3d._ This morning we started early, and our road along this
little stream was beautiful and so quiet that I lagged behind to enjoy
it as much as possible, but in a short time we began a stony ascent
of two miles, after which came an uncomfortable descent into another
beautiful valley, but with poor grass; here we took a short rest, and
then continued, reaching, at noon, Tomochic, on a little river of the
same name. The old Mission had only the original tower; the rest of the
building is now adobe.
The river here makes a sudden turn from southeast to northwest, and
we took it up-stream; it runs through miles of sandstone worn into
cliffs and fissures, presenting the most fantastic shapes imaginable,
delighting us at every turn. We looked in vain for fish in the most
tempting of eddies and holes, but saw very few; little trout about five
inches long were all that rewarded our search. We crossed and re-crossed
this stream twenty-two times in about seven miles, and encamped on a
sandy bottom covered with fine pines. Here I saw Steller's jays and
Clement shot one for me; I also saw a fox squirrel, but I could not get
it, and do not know its species. A magnificent hawk flew over us; he
had two white bands on his tail—could it be _Falco lagopus_?
_Fourth of July. Paso Chapadaro._ Calm, misty, silent. The sun soon
threw its red light over all we saw to the west, but was hidden by the
range of mountains to the east which we had passed, till mastering at
an effort, as it seemed, the highest ridge, it burst forth in all its
splendor. In the bottom of my saddle-bags, rolled in a handkerchief,
was a flag given me by poor Hamilton Boden, and by the time the haze
had gone, it floated in the breeze, from the top of the highest tree
near our camp; nature was all in a smile, and we prepared to spend the
day according to our various inclinations. Some slept, some basked in
indolence, some started off to look for game, some looked to their
saddle-bags and blankets; all was rest, at least from travel, and I
unpacked my paper and pencils and made a sketch of the "Fourth of July
Camp."
Wild cattle were abundant, and noon saw our camp in possession of
a fine heifer shot by Rhoades. Steaks were broiled and fried, ribs
roasted, brains stewed in the skull; delicacies under such circumstances
unequalled by the cuisine of a palace.
When evening came, Mess No. 4, all good singers, gave us some beautiful
choruses from operas, as well as simpler songs, and as night brought the
solemn quiet, and the moon glided in its ordained course, "Old Hundred"
was sung with the most solemn feelings of reverence and adoration.
_July 5th. Gabilana._ Four o'clock saw us on our way. We rode some hours
along the valley, rich in grass, shade-trees and springs of delicious
water; then came a steep ascent, and most of us had to walk. We lost
another mule today, but before leaving it succeeded in getting it to
the table-land at the top of the gorge we had just ascended. It was a
beautiful grove of pines and plenty of short green grass was under foot,
and, most welcome sight, a log house looking so like home that a dozen
of the boys rode off to see "a white woman;" but their disappointment
was great—it was simply the house of a Mexican who had been in Texas
some years, and had learned how to live in a little comfort.
_July 6th. Santa Borgia._ The woods today were most luxuriant as we
wound round the gorge that commenced again our ascent to some still
higher mountains. Our common robin was abundant, and a large green
parrot, with a red head, was seen in every clump of pines, but its
uncouth squalling was distracting. Except the cardinal and other
gros-beaks how few birds of splendid plumage have sweet voices.
_July 7th. Pitochi._ Today we have followed one of the most
extraordinary gorges we have seen, crossing and winding along the banks
of a beautiful little stream, till between giant precipices we had
almost the sensation that they might tumble in to fill the gap and crush
us. One particularly fine white cliff, we judged nine hundred feet above
us; topped off with high towers of nearly white sandstone, its sharp
lines broken by a straggling pine or scraggy cedar, growing in some of
the many fissures, it was so grand that we left it with regret.
_July 9th. Cerro Prieto._ I saw today the first water-ousel I ever saw
alive in America, and was enchanted with his movements, as he jerked his
wren-shaped body with sprightly activity, or with whirring flight went
from stone to stone, or suddenly plunged, in the most unnatural manner,
into the foaming little torrent, and spread his wings half open, the
pinions lowest. He headed up stream, keeping at the bottom, and went
about feeding in the crevices of the rocks with as much ease, if not as
rapidly, as a bird in the air.
_July 10th._ Early as we start, no one murmurs. I am writing a few yards
apart from Mess No. 12, a queer lot. Rhoades, who has crossed the plains
from Fort Independence to Santa Fé eleven times, and Barrat, a wagoner
of the Mexican War, are both very original, and perhaps would not get
on well with the others but for Dr. Trask, a truly good man, who is
their Captain. It is a misty morning, fire more of smoke than warmth,
tent wet, blankets cold and clammy, and we are waiting for them to dry
before packing. The roll has been called, and each mess is preparing
breakfast. I hear Dr. Trask courteously ask: "Are those plates clean?"
and Rhoades's nonchalant answer: "To be sure they are, didn't we eat
off 'em last night."
_July 12th. Concepcion._ Yesterday we passed oaks with a heavy leaf,
glazed on the top, so as to look as rich as the magnolia grandiflora
of Louisiana. Raspberries are abundant but not ripe, and strawberries
plentiful. We camped on ground covered with dwarf huckleberries, and
a species of plantain of which our mules ate freely, but the horses
sparsely.
_July 14th._ We commenced our day with the ascent of a steep rocky hill,
with the trail cut in by the mules much in the manner of those we had
seen before, and the road at first was so steep that we had to lead our
horses. One of our mules gave out completely and we had to leave it on
the table land which is almost invariably the apex of these mountains. A
beautiful grove of pines with short but good grass beneath, made a fine
contrast of color. As we camped our usual storm came on more violent
than usual, and we were drenched through. Lieut. Browning says: "The
claps of thunder and flashes of lightning are very well done in this
country."
_July 18th._ Our road today was by far the most tedious we have had,
being up hill nearly all the time, but the view from the top almost
repaid us, if not our mules, for the toil. We arrived at the highest top
near Jesus Maria; miles of mountain tops and peaks of rock and woods
are far below us. Through a gap we looked at clouds blending with the
mists below them, until the scene was like an ocean view.
Four hours and a half of most precipitous descent brought us to a
luxuriant growth of pine and spruce, and passing through one of the
wildest and most picturesque gorges I have ever seen, we came to the
extraordinary little town of Jesus Maria, situated at the junction of
two little torrents of clear, beautiful water, tumbling in noisy, joyous
splashing from rock to basin, and carrying away the rubbish from this
half-civilized settlement of miners as it passes through the town.
_July 19th. Jesus Maria._ Gold and silver are both found here, and
the rock which contains these ores is soft and easily ground; the most
common way of grinding seems to be a flutter wheel fastened to a shaft,
which turns on another within the inner circle; this inner one is water
tight, and two large stones are pulled round by ropes of rawhide fast
to the wheel, which is about three feet from the ground. These are
trailed round and smash the ore for two or three days; it is then dried,
pulverized and washed. Sometimes simple washing, and sometimes with
amalgam of quicksilver, gives the result of eight to ten marks of silver
to the cargo, viz:—three hundred pounds. Gold is much more variable in
its profits.
Everything used here is brought from the Pacific side, quicksilver,
irons, wines and liquors; even flour is sometimes brought, but most of
that comes from Sonora which is ten days' travel to the east.
_July 20th._ There was no open space large enough for us to picket our
mules and pitch our tents in this town (said to contain two thousand
inhabitants) and eventually we had to hire the only corral in the place,
full of fleas and dirt, for which we had to pay twelve dollars per day.
It is only about seventy yards long and perhaps thirty broad, so that
we are very crowded. We find here three Americans, two Swiss and one
Italian, who have for many years resided in this country as traders.
There were a number of Englishmen, owners and superintendents of mines,
who all treated us most kindly. I think the view of Jesus Maria which I
give, supersedes the necessity of a verbal description of its situation,
but not of the town itself, which is the place of all others that would
be selected by a man who had left behind him enemies sworn to vengeance,
for two minutes' start up any of the mountains would insure a safe
retreat.
Yet the place has its charms; superb rocks, wild passes, and withal a
vegetation so luxuriant that with the dozens of birds I could have spent
weeks of enjoyment, but we leave tomorrow as we have been here two days.
_July 22d._ Leaving the public square yesterday we took a winding alley
up the precipitous mountain: two of our mules fell off the trail; one
rolled over ten or twelve times, pack and all, and then to our utter
amazement got up, having come by a series of falls to a small level
space, and began to eat.
[Illustration: JESUS MARIA, LOOKING NORTHWEST
_July 20, 1849_]
We spent four hours going six miles to where the rear of the company
encamped; thirty mules and thirteen men went six miles further, and Mr.
Browning found himself with three men, four miles ahead of all, with
no other assistance, and eighteen mules to care for. These distances
between us are the result of the unequal strength of our mules, and one
mule and a horse left behind us. A drizzling rain came up as night fell,
and we had a miserable night.
_July 23d._ Limestone, sandstone, and huge masses of amalgam of gravel
and sand, with quartz, have been all about us. The small plants are
numerous; ferns everywhere, a beautiful scarlet honeysuckle is very
plentiful, spruce, pine, balsam fir, hemlock and pitch-pine are all
seen; our swamp alder grows here to great size, looking like black
beech. Raspberries are as good as in Maine, and very abundant in many of
the ravines and valleys. The magnificent oak with glossy leaves is here
too, and a new species of reed, a perfect miniature of our large cane
of the west. Steller's jay, a titmouse, and, I think, a crossbill, have
been seen, but no parrots such as we saw to the east of Jesus Maria.
Mists and fogs hang over the mountains, and the air is cold and damp
unless the sun shines, and then it is very hot. Deep, indeed, is the
solitude of this grand country, for but little animation is seen. Often
as I sit sketching or writing I hear only the chirp of some cricket, or
distant scream of a hawk to tell me that living things are about me.
_July 25th._ We have been feasting on venison, here very plentiful, and
much sought after by the men, to such an extent indeed that Nicholas
Walsh having wounded a deer yesterday, which was both misty and cloudy,
followed it over hill and dale and lost himself.
We made a large fire hoping he might see it, fired guns and shouted,
and early today he was found by a Mexican scout; he had wandered about
for thirty hours between leaving the party and returning to it. He had
been greatly frightened, and looked wild, when the Mexican brought him
in. He said he kept getting almost within range of the wounded animal
when it disappeared, and heavy rain began falling which washed out
the blood of the trail which would have showed him the way back. He
thought his heart would burst when he realized he was lost in an Indian
country; he had no idea where he was; everything was mist and greyness;
he was cold, hungry, and soaked through, and worst of all his gun and
ammunition were wet; he was so eager not to lose sight of the deer
that he had forgotten the rule always to reload as soon as a charge is
fired, when in an enemy's country, as the report of the gun will inform
the Indian of your proximity. He never heard one of the guns that were
fired every fifteen minutes from our camp, and as soon as dawn came
searching parties started in every direction, little knowing that Walsh
was trotting towards us, behind a Mexican, in the peculiar half run of
that grade of native, when in haste.
David Hudson and I had struck far off to the north, and had traversed
table lands and mountain paths for some miles, when just as we emerged
from a patch of oaks and undergrowth, all dead, thin, dried, brown
leaves in contrast with the full summer bloom of everything outside
this blighted spot, we heard the tread of men, and quietly moving behind
two large trees near us, waited to see who the newcomers were. We knew
we had heard the footsteps of more than one man, but only the Mexican
appeared at first; in a few seconds with eyes like owls in daylight,
mouth open, hair streaming in every direction, and looking like an
escaped Bedlamite, came Walsh. He gripped my hand so that it feels
bruised yet; his first words were: "Good fellow if he is a Greaser,
have you two dollars?" The Mexican told us he had left the mine where
he worked, to go to the rancho where his sweetheart lived, and knowing
the country well, took a cross trail for speed and heard a man making
a great noise who seemed to want something; he soon found him and knew
at once he belonged to our company whom he had seen at Jesus Maria.
_July 27th._ We parted today with Joseph Stevenson, one of our
blacksmiths, to my great regret. He returned to Jesus Maria where he is
going into partnership with a Mr. Williams, a carpenter, and will no
doubt make a good living for he is a very excellent workman. I passed
today a large pine tree with the most curious display of the sagacity,
instinct, or whatever it may be called, of some insectivorous bird, I
think a red-headed woodpecker; for I saw one a few minutes afterwards,
and he may be the workman. The bark of the tree was perforated with
holes just large enough in diameter to hold the small acorn of this
country, say half an inch, and about as deep; the holes were from a
quarter of an inch to an inch and a half apart; the acorns seemed all to
be put in butt end foremost, I suppose because the cone end would turn
the rain better. Should instinct tell all this to the beautiful bird
who lays up his store in this manner so that he may go in the winter to
eat the grub that is sure to be in every acorn, how wonderful are the
provisions of Nature for her children.
This high ridge gives a complete change of birds; Steller's jay, so
common a few days' journey from here, is rare—indeed, I have only seen
one; the Ultramarine takes its place, and I hope in a few days to see
the Columbian; a few ravens are to be seen, and one hawk, like our
red-tailed, but I am not sure of him. The lightning here is most vivid,
and on the sides of some of the mountains of medium height, I found
seared and scathed patches of timber and undergrowth, as if ignition of
the electric fluid had taken place at those spots, possibly attracted
to them by the presence of iron; if this is so, how terrific would be
the destruction to our company if such an event occurred where we were
encamped.
_July 28th. Paragarto._ We did not leave camp until nearly noon, waiting
for a train of one hundred and eighty-two mules packed with nothing
but flasks of quicksilver; the usual length of trains is about forty to
fifty, with six or eight men. Our road was the usual ascent and descent,
and on the second descent I saw fifteen or twenty swifts, about double
the size of our common chimney swift at home. They appeared to nest
on the cliffs opposite to the trail, a location similar to that of the
first Republican swallow my father[18] found near Cincinnati.
Sundown found us in a beautiful little valley, setting up our tents
in the usual rain, and trying to dry ourselves by the fires of those
who had come in ahead. We have now become so accustomed to daily rains
that it is a matter of course to encounter them. There is a rancho here
with peaches and figs in abundance. In this valley we went again to
shoeing horses; never were shoes lost in so short a time as on these
cruel trails, sometimes they are wrenched off in a few hours, and they
commonly get loose and require nails every three or four days. Layton
and I ascended one of the highest peaks in the neighborhood; like all
other mountain regions when one peak, seemingly the highest, is reached,
others still higher appear between us and the desired view. Out of
breath, shoes cut, and clothes torn, we reached the foot of the highest
elevation like the cone of Vesuvius, and found it an arduous climb;
broken, reddish traprock of all sizes made the mass, and a straggling
pine from time to time added to the solemnity of this desolate place,
which filled me with awe and reverence, which was not decreased as
muttering thunder gave us warning that our turn would be next, if the
attractions of the mountains the storm was already besieging, did not
exhaust the clouds. Silently, however, we struggled upwards, and another
half hour enabled us to look to the east, south, and west as far as eye
could reach; the north was left to our imaginations, being hid by a veil
of clouds which sent flash after flash, peal after peal, to tell us of
the storm which held sway there. Distance lent such enchantment to all
that the valleys and slopes looked as velvety as an English lawn.
[Illustration: TWENTY-FIVE MILES WEST OF JESUS MARIA
_July 29, 1849_]
Our descent was very rapid, but giving the usual fatigue of a downhill
march. I saw many runs of deer, no doubt made by the bucks following the
doe, though they are still in velvet. I saw some squirrels but could not
get at them, as the stones on which we were walking were so loose that
they would sometimes roll two hundred feet (I might almost say yards),
and made so much noise that they startled not only them, but the deer.
At the bottom of the hill we both bathed in the little torrent that
waters the beautiful valley; at times it is two or three hundred yards
wide, and again compressed so much as only just to leave room to let
the stream through. Its chilly bracing foam sent a sparkle through us
as if bathing in soda water, and we may boast of having had such a bath
as few can enjoy, unsurpassed for its freshness, and in the very heart
of the southern Rocky mountains, perhaps a spot never seen by any other
white men.
_August 6th, Trinidad._ The loss of mules, a few terrific passes, and
here and there a valley of extreme beauty brought us to the western
ridge of the chain of mountains leading down to Trinidad, a little
old, worn-out place, having only some few hundred inhabitants, the town
itself containing some stores like those we have come across everywhere
from Davis's Rancho to Jesus Maria. At Trinidad there are three
Frenchmen, one the Alcalde, the other two traders, dealing in everything
from horses to a single tallow candle. They also sell quantities of
muscalle, which is taken mainly for the love of the alcohol, for any
dose of medicine would be as palatable, and in this hot country probably
more beneficial, certainly less injurious. I asked one of the Frenchmen,
now so long a resident that he had almost forgotten his own language,
what induced him to live in such a country. His answer was short and
to the point: "The love of gold." "Have you found it?" I asked. "No,"
was his reply, "but I cannot return without it." So it is with many of
all nations, who, lured by the stories of fortunes easily made, come to
this part of the earth and grow more and more lazy and indolent, until
they have become unfit for the active, energetic industry requisite in
happier and more enlightened portions of the world. The people here
simply vegetate; many of them drink, and are depraved in many ways.
Some seem happy with their Mexican wives, who, however, are neither as
handsome nor as clever as quadroons.
Nature is beautiful at every turn, now in bird and beast, then in tree
and flower, then in rock and rill: how pained I am to pass them all by;
but the position into which I have been forced demands every hour, and
I am never my own master.
_August 8th. Santa Rosa._ Today I passed three partridges and two
doves, warblers and flycatchers without number, all new, and many most
beautiful. Santa Rosa where we are camped is a beautifully situated
little village, with a silver mine as its chief interest. There are some
fine horses here, possessing more of the Arabian look than any I have
seen before in Mexico. With great regret, I exchanged my old favorite
Monterey for a mare here worth six or eight dollars. With all my care
of Monterey, I could not save his back, and I felt as if parting with
a friend, when with his majestic stride, his ears set forward, giving
to his small head and curved neck an expression of excitement and
fierceness peculiarly his own, he almost sailed through our camp, and
winding down a pass leading to the village, left me gazing at the spot
where I had seen him last. There is fine grass and plenty of water, and
I was told he had gone to a kind master, an Englishman who had drifted
out here.
_August 10th._ We left our camp after great difficulty in getting our
mules together, and at six camped again, fifteen miles only, on our way,
for it has been up and down hill all the time. The sunny side of the
hills is always very hot to us, and trying to our poor mules. We passed
many changes of vegetation but musquit is still the prominent portion.
One tree we saw had a large fruit five or six inches long, hanging like
a pear; it contained seed, laid in like those of the milkweed, and we
were told the cotton-like substance which enclosed the seeds was used
for candlewick. Here we saw the first large cacti I had seen of the
cylindrical form; some of them are apparently forty feet high. If in a
shaded situation, they have only one or two shoots, while others in open
ground have perhaps fifty, but smaller and less luxuriant, being only
six or eight inches in diameter, instead of four or more.
_August 11th._ Coming down the creek our second day's descent we opened
into a wide arroyo of sometimes two hundred yards, with water running
through it, and again the water disappeared and the dry parched bottom
sent up a heat such as I do not recollect having ever felt before. I saw
the men fag, get down and tumble on the grass at the sides, whenever
a shady spot could be found, and the poor mules seemed completely
exhausted. Many of us became sick at our stomachs from the effects of
the intense contrast in temperature, for we had left an atmosphere like
that of Maine, for the tropics. We saw a storm coming up and for once
wished it to hasten; but we had no rain, only a gust of its cooling
breeze, and we gladly left our trying surroundings for a delightful
shade and green grass.
_August 14th._ We have had the same sort of travelling today; we came to
the Yaqui River, a muddy stream at this season, about two hundred yards
wide and so deep that we had to employ canoes to carry over our cargoes;
the canoes are paddled by Mexicans (no great boatmen, by the way); the
mules and horses we swam over, having passed Tomochi [Tonichi]; the
little town is said to be four days' travel from Ures; it is about three
quarters of a mile from the river, and it is a deserted mining place of
a few adobe houses. Here, as usual, was sold muscalle, a few freholes
[frejoles][19] and wheaten tortillas. Only once have I seen pulque, at
a small distillery of muscalle.
_August 15th. Soyopa._ Leaving the Rio Yaqui for its little tributaries,
which are sometimes above ground, and sometimes below, running over
the sands, or disappearing underneath them, we encamped in a quiet cool
spot, to rest after the great heat of the sunny sides of the hills we
had left and the arroyos made by mountain torrents where we were nearly
suffocated, and we look forward to the plains of the Gulf of California
and the sea breeze that sweeps them, with anticipations of delight.
Alas! an occasional thunderstorm is all that gives coolness to the
atmosphere here, for the puffs of land breeze only tantalize and do not
cool.
I tried here to buy or trade horses, and regret I did not get one I saw,
but the straightened circumstances of the company compelled me to give
up the idea.
_August 17th._ We passed a large rancho of about a hundred and fifty
men and their squaws, for nearly all were Indians, and camped six miles
further on; but as night came on thieves came too, whether Mexicans or
Apaches I know not, but we have never encountered bolder ones. Hinckley,
Havens, Sloat, Valentine and Boggs were on guard, all good men, but of
no avail, four double barrelled guns and two pistols were taken, one
from under Boggs' very eyes—how, no one could tell. We looked for the
trail and found it, large feet and small moccasins and barefooted; but
the dew was unswept from the grass outside the camp, so the theft must
have been earlier in the night: we could recover nothing, though four
of our best men went back; so after a fruitless search of some hours
we left for Ures, and at three o'clock entered into a series of hills
and valleys so beautiful in form and color, so fresh and green that our
spring could not equal them. Many of Cole's[20] pictures were brought
to mind.
_August 22d. Ures._ Three days' travel over a prairie sometimes covered
with chaparral, and sometimes with grass brought us here. We are
greatly disappointed; Ures, the capital of Sonora, with its Governor and
military, Alcalde and court, is an adobe village of about four thousand
Indians, and still they have power, and the Alcalde proved himself a
man of considerable ability.
Coming down the mountains to the Rio Yaqui, we left coolness for heat.
First we saw Turkey Buzzards, and lower down the Carrion Crow; still
farther down we came to the table prairies and there were the Carra
Carra Eagles[21] in great numbers; sometimes we saw fifty in a day,
so that birds mark the altitude. The mocking-bird, raven and jay of
the mountains are with us no more. I have found the plumed partridge
plentiful, one with a black breast and guinea-fowl spots; but they
are less numerous here and I fear will soon be seen no more. We are
told gold abounds in the surrounding mountains, but the Apaches are
so bad that it cannot be secured; however, the exaggerations of these
people are so amazing, that we do not believe their tales; if we did
it would be useless to leave here, as we could never live to reach our
destination, there are so many difficulties; one great one is always
with us, that is our poor mules, which fail daily.
_August 28th._ Some gentlemen today presented me with a large glass
jar of peaches, beautifully preserved; there must have been at least a
gallon, and we were so very grateful, for we become very weary of our
monotonous fare of coarse bread made from unbolted flour, beef or game,
half cooked often, and eaten from tin plates or the frying pan, and tin
cups for coffee, if we have it.
We heard here one piano, but the same peculiar nasal twang pervades the
singing of the whole of Northern Mexico.
On the journey here we lost eight mules and horses, and but for Clement
I should have been hard pressed for the latter for Barratt. Clement
exchanged his horse for two Mexican ones, which he procured from Mr.
Gabilondo. The very next day I heard Clement's horse was dead, so I
went at once to see Mr. Gabilondo. He said he had sold the horse and a
bargain was a bargain, and that probably the animal had eaten something
poisonous; however, revenge was talked of by all the men, and I found
a fine looking mule in our train very mysteriously. To my question as
to where the mule came from, I was told he had been "traded for;" I
told the man who was riding him that he would have to bear all risks,
and he cheerfully said he would; and so he did, for when the owner
came forward, with his brand in hand—the voucher, in this country, of
ownership—he was told very politely that the trade had been made for a
pair of pistols (a pair that had been stolen four days previously), and
he could not return the mule unless the pistols were forthcoming. There
was a good deal of "Carambo,"[22] etc., but the train moved on through
half the rabble of Ures, some of whom laughed, some swore.
_August 30th._ Leaving Ures the country is more level; to the southeast
is a large plain covered with musquit of a different species from that
on the eastern side, and not quite so thorny; the large cactus of the
mountains is not found here, two smaller species taking its place.
I did not leave Ures until five p. m., when the train was five or six
miles ahead of me. I rode slowly along the swampy lane leading north
from the town, bordered with heavy hedges of reeds and chaparral, with,
from time to time, a cactus, a palm, or a cabbage tree breaking the line
of the horizon. One tall palm, stiff and formal, was standing out very
distinctly in the soft light between moonrise and sunset. Large flocks
of the yellow troupial in noisy bustle settling themselves in the rushes
and willows bordering the little stream we are now fording, brought to
my mind many an evening return home.
Two or three miles of this travelling brought me to the first sandy
tableland, and the dull monotony of a road shut in by chaparral
continued until I came to the camp, low-spirited and tired, and longing
for the end of this toilsome journey; perhaps the fact that Osgood,
Plumb and Brown having left us at Ures to go by way of Mazatlan with
another company, may have had more to do with my depression than other
circumstances.
Here, in the heart of the Indian country, with the watchword "Apache,"
in the mouth of every Mexican, and our guard rigid, we are toiling on
through an interesting country. The large cactus, given by Fremont or
Abert,[23] we met here in great luxuriance, having a centre of pulpy
pith surrounded by a number of long hearts, one for each ridge of the
meat, or pulp, of the plant. If I only had time, how I should enjoy
making drawings of all this, but I cannot.
_September 2d._ Two days out from Ures we came to some Pimos Indians
washing gold from black ore, which they said produced well; we found
some lumps of ore in the dust, all of irregular shapes. The value is
only about one real (about ten cents) for each bushel of dirt. Each man
made about two dollars a day.
We had fine grass and pond water here, and are off for Altar.
_September 9th. Altar._ We reached this place yesterday after eight
days journey over barren, sandy hills exactly like these which surround
this town. What an eight days it has been, I hate to recall to my
mind even by writing these brief notes. Half of us are on foot, our
clothes are ragged and torn, and we have lived on half rations, often
less, of beans, and what we _call_ bread. Several days we were twenty
and twenty-four hours without water, no grass for our horses, and
inexpressibly weary _always_. Yet we are well and not as much depressed
as might be supposed, and while we are short of nearly everything, money
included, our courage is in no degree lessened.
Altar is a miserable collection of adobe houses, with perhaps a thousand
inhabitants; there are only one or two grandees here, but nearly all
are of Indian mixture. At one of the little villages through which we
passed, La Nada, we had all the town about us, admiring our white (?)
faces, and asking hundreds of questions, many of the girls had pretty
Indian faces, and beautiful teeth and hair. Great quantities of peaches
grow in the valleys and irrigated gardens, but what comfort there is is
very primitive. Plenty of the California partridge are here, but the
black-breasted is nowhere to be seen; the California quail is found,
and Gamble's blue partridge.
I saw yesterday the most wonderful rainbow, or rather mass of prismatic
mist; a heavy thunderstorm, one of the most furious we have encountered,
took us just as we had left a rancho, formerly an old Mission, with a
very fine reservoir two hundred yards square, built of stone and the
exhaust arch of brick, and we rode on in drenching rain for nearly an
hour. The storm abated just before sunset, leaving all of the west,
below the lifting clouds, of that indescribable, furious red, which
follows such blows, and the receding storm receiving the light and
blending into an immense mass of rainbow haze.
The people here are not at all friendly to us, and instead of having
them come out to see us at our camp, as at other places, often in such
numbers as to be a nuisance, we find them cold, and almost uncivil.
We are not looked upon with the same interest as heretofore, and could
neither buy nor beg what we required for our use. We, however, succeeded
with some difficulty in getting good flour and pinole, at eight and ten
dollars per cargo. We had to make a kiln and burn the wood for charcoal,
which we needed to make horseshoes, and we paid sixty-two and a half
cents a pound for the only bar of iron we could find.