195302 Desert Magazine 1953 February

8/14/2019 195302 Desert Magazine 1953 February

1/44


2/44

S E N S A T I O N A L L Y N E W F R E E 5 6 P A G E F A L L C A T A L O GThis unique catalog is 8W'xll" in size. It is profuselyillustrated w ith pictures of almost all items offered. Yourshopping will be made easy order by mail or visitour shop to select you r gifts. This catalog lists GemCutting Equipment, Grinding Wheels, Diamond Blades,Sanding Cloth, and Polishing Powders, Jewelry MakingTools, Sterling Silver Sheet and Wire, Blank RingMountings, Jewelry Findings such as Earwires,

Bails, Locket Loops, Chain by the foot, Bezel Wire, etc.Field Trip Books and Books of all kinds on Minerals,Gems, Jewelry Making, Prospecting, Uranium, etc.Fluorescent Lamps, Fluorescent Minerals, Geiger Count-e r s , Uranium Samples, Magnifiers, Scales, Templates, etc.Services Offered to You Are: Expert GemStone Cutting,Custom Jewelry Making and Repair.Dealers please ask for wholesale discount sheets

POLY ARBORS AT NEW LOW PRICESillustration at right shows1POLY D12 Arbor $19.95 1Dresser Rest2Cast Splash Shie lds 15.G0 1Jig Block DIAMOND1100 Grit Wheel V'xlVz" 7.25 DRESSER1220 Gri t Wheel WWA" 8.25 2Galvanized Splash Pans .TOTAL VALUE $69.10SPECIAL COMBINATION PRICE $62.00

2.2510.905.50

YOU WILL BE WEARING RAINBOWSW h e n you wear jewel ry set with TITANIA. Gems of syntheticTITANIA have five t imes more abil i ty than the d i a m o n d tobreak l ight into its component colors producing a magnificentrainbow effect . These magnificent gems can be set in mount-ings you may now have from which you have los t theoriginal stone.Visit Our Shop and See Ladies ' and Men's Rings Set withTitania. A Large Stock of Titania Earwires Is Also Avai lable .

F R E E L A P ID A R Y L E S S O N SWith the purchase of cabochon or facet cutting equipmenthaving a value of $85.00 or more, an experienced lapidarywill give you a lesson in gemstone cutting in his own shop.Model E-10 Gem Stone Cutter$139.75 F.O.B. PasadenaAdd $3.00 crating for out-of-town shipmentsNote: Trim saw has a vise (not illustrated) with lateraladjustment for slabbing.This unit and other HIGHLAND PARK EQUIPMENT isfully described in our 56page free catalog.

TIN OXIDE AGAINNOW ONLY $2.50 LB.Ceriu m Oxide $3.00 lb.Chrome Oxide $1.00 lb.Zirconium Oxide $1.25 lb.

ESTWING ALL STEELROCKHOUND PICKSGift ModelPolished $4.10Regular Black Finish $3.85Wood Handled StanleyProspectors Picks $3.10Allow 3 lbs.Shipping weight.

INTRODUCTORY BARGAINS INJEWELRY FINDINGSSter. Silver Ea rw ires $1.00 doz.Ster. Silver Spring Rings. . . $1.00 doz.Ster. Silver Bails or Loops.$1.00 dozAll plus 20% Fed. Tax.

GETTING MARRIED?GENUINE DIAMOND ENGAGEMENTAND WEDDING RINGSAT SUBSTANTIAL SAVINGSFACET CUT ROCK CRYSTAL STARSFOR PENDANTS AND EARWIRES

LOOSE S T A RS one point drilled1 " size$2.00 or 3 for $4.50W size$1.50 or 3 for $3.35S.S. or Gold Fi l led Bai ls for s ta r s , each $ .5(1S.S. or Gold Fille d Ch ains , each SI.COP E N D A N T OR S T UD E ARW I RE S $


3/44


4/44

P I C T U R E S O FT H E M O I T HW i n t e r i n W a l k e r P a s sPicture was taken November 16following the first snowfall in theupper reaches of the Mojave Desert,by Warren K. Smith of China Lake,California. Taken with a Rolleicordwith X-l filter on Plus X film, 1/25second at f.22. This photograph wasawarded first place in Desert'sPicture-of-the-Month contest for De-cember.D e s e r t O a s i sThis photograph, awarded secondplace in the December contest, wastaken at Sage Memorial Hospital atGanado, Arizona, by Dr. J. RobertLindsay, one of the physicians asso-ciated with the institution. Thewomen in the foreground are Nav-ajos, this hospital being located onthe Navajo reservation. Taken witha Kodak 35 with A filter and Plus Xfilm, 1/50 second at f.8.

Ifct(UUI*r M


5/44

Framed by the bare branches of a dead cottonwood stand two old chimneysonce serving pre-civil war soldiers.

G hos t F or tres s in N ew M ex icoToday old Fort Union in northeastern New Mexico is a desertedcamp, marked only by crumbling mud walls and ghostly memories.There are no signboards to point the way, and there is little travel onthe dirt road wh ich le ad s to the old fortress. And y et. Fort Union p lay eda key role in the Civil War, and at one time probably was the most

important military outpost west of the Mississippi River. In one of thebest stories sshe ha s written for Desert M agaz ine, Nell M urbarger tellsabout this ghost fortressits past and present.By NELL MURBARGERPhotographs by the authorMap by Norton Allen

streetlike bright feathers in the darkman tel of the m esa towered frost-gilded cottonwoods; and all aroundspread the blue sky and wide cleanuplands of northern New Mexico.That such a town should be our lastpoint of supply on this trail to adven-ture, seemed oddly appropriate. Onceour provisioning had been completedat the general store, and our gas tankand water can refilled, we headed

LOW over the Sangrede Cristo peaks to the west, Oc-tober's warm sun was spread-ing tall shadows across the land as wedrew to a halt in the old town of Wat-rous.With only half a glance we couldsee that this was a pleasant place oftime-weathered adobes, fragrant withpinyon pine smoke and red chili pep-pers and peace. Abo ve its single

F E B R U A R Y , 1 9 5 3

north on the long lonely road towardWagon Mound in our hearts thatgrand full song which comes only fromapproaching fulfillment of a dream.Mother and Dad, and I, are devotedstudents of Southwestern historyallperio ds of it, and all facets. Virtuallyany chance remark is sufficient tolaunch us on some phase of studywhich we thereupon follow throughheat and highwater with all the eagerenthusiasm of scientists trailing amicrobe.I've forgotten what it was that firstattracted our attention to old FortUnion, but for more than two yearswe had been studying its history andkeenly anticipating that future daywhen we might at last prowl throughits crumb ling rem ains. In the courseof our ground-work, we had devouredevery account of life at the fort thatwe had been able to buy or borrow.


6/44

1866FORT UNIONNEW MEXICO

AA-

V'\ n HOTEL SPRING / ricLl/WUtnjX RfSERK \ f\i..CC'""L\'QRS

"' '" :!T''*/ " lJ, A ppr o * . S c a l e 'Jil

W e had reveled in war departmentdocuments and brittle old maps , andhad filled bulging notebooks with in-formation gleaned from yellowed arch-ives in the museum at Santa Fe. Andnow, as we took our departure fromWatrous, that long period of indoc-trination wasnearing the pay-off!Across the northeasterly horizon,only a few miles ahead, stretched thelow dark range of the Turkey Moun-tains. On a westering slope at thebase of these mountains lay a tattered

adobe ruinand buried in that ruinwere more volumes of unwritten his-tory than a man might read in hisnormal lifetime!

Obeying instructions given us by thestorekeeper atWatrous, we crossed theslow trickles of the Mora and Sapellorivers, andcontinued on past a ramb-ling adobe ranch house built morethan 120 years ago and operated asthe first trading post in this section ofthe country. We had been advised towatch for a cattle guard in the right-of-way fence a fewmiles out of town. At3.9 miles such a guard appeared. Lead-ing through it, to cross theplateau be-yond, was a dim rutted road whollyunidentified either by highway sign orhistorical marker. As its general di-rection seemed favorable, wevoted toaccept its challenge.

Neither bush norboulder obstructedour passage as we bumped across thehigh open plain at more than 6000 feetabove sea level. Groups of half-wildcattle halted their feeding to watchourintrusion with up-flung heads and waryeyes; and from the vicinity of smallwaterholes, theyammering of killdeerscame to ourears . Low flat mountainsringed thehorizon onevery side. Fouror five miles to our right lay the Tur-keys, darkly-thatched with pinyonsand juniper; and before we had fol-lowed the road for anygreat distance,another pine-topped mesa began tak-ing form on our right.

If we had entertained any misgiv-ings concerning the little road we hadchosen to follow, all such were magic-ally dispelled as we suddenly foundou r way paralleling the century-oldruts of the Santa Fe Trailthat firstand mightiest of allWestern highroads.For more than 60 years this greattrail hadbeen pounded by the wheelsof heavily-laden freight wagons, trav-eling four, six, andeven eight abreast.Heavy steel tires biting through theprairie sod; hooves of mules andoxengrinding the earth topowder; windandrain and storm carrying it awayandnow, these incredible furrows! Spacedclosely parallel in a band varying from50 to 100 feet in width, they extendover plains and deserts, dry hills androcky arroyos, for a distance of morethan 800milesa graphic relic of thefrontier that shall not be effaced in the

memory of men now living.It was seven or eight miles out ofWatrous when our searching gaze firstfastened upon the ruins of old FortUnion, then still several miles to thenortheast.Bathed in the warm glow of lateafternoon, its long lowwalls shone asrichly golden as theramparts of fabledCibola; and in the jagged line of itsruins our racing fancy found towersand turrets and broken columns, andall theromantic adjuncts of a medievalcity!When only three quarters of a mileseparated our road from the grandold ruin, we found ourway barred bya wide arroyo, badly eroded anddefi-nitely notconducive to travel by auto.It would be no great feat to cross thewash afoot, but our plans had definitelyincluded camping in the old fort."How about the arsenal?" askedDad. "Wasn' t it on the west side ofthe ravine?"The arsenal of course! In theexcitement of themoment we had for-gotten that the fort's original buildings,erected in 1851-52 had been situatedat the foot of the mesa, on the west.Not until several years later had siteof the fort been moved across the

6 D E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


7/44

Eroded ruts of the old Santa Fe Trail between Wa trous Two long abandone d and crumbling adobes of old Ft.and Ft. Union, a discarded highway of 100 years ago. Union framed in the disintegrating arch of another.arroyo, a mile to the east, after whichtime the original buildings had beenutilized for ordnance.Ranging our eyes across the slopeto the west, we soon spotted severallarge adobe ruirs, the gray of theirhalf-fallen walls blending softly withthe gray-brown of the arid hillside andthe gray-purple shadows of approach-ing night.Another five minutes found the carsuccessfully jockeyed across the slopeand comfortably parked within thecrumbling rectargle of the structurefarthest to the north.

Later that evening, as we sat eatingby our crackling campfire in the cen-ter of that roofless, floorless, century-old building we had appropriated toour use, we found ourselves thinkingonly of that mighty ruin across thearroyo; of its history and all the stor-ies we had read about it during thetwo years preceding.For more than two decades prior tothe American occupation of New Mex-ico in 1846, wagon trains had beentraveling the Santa Fe Trail betweenthe American frontier of Missouri andthe Mexican cities of Santa Fe andChihuah ua. There had been inciden-tal losses to raiding Indians and othertrail hazards, bit traders had philo-

sophically accepted these misfortunesas part of the inherent risk in a busi-ness that paid fabulous profits.And then had come the Americanconquest.When General Kearney raised theStars and Stripes over Santa Fe in1846, and informed the citizens ofthat city that they should henceforthlook to him for protection, he cameclose to starting something he couldnot finish.Every Spanish ranchero whoseherds were levied upon by rustlers,every trader using the Santa Fe Trail,immediately sought to enlist thatpromised protectionand little pro-tection was forthcoming. For t Ma rcy,at Santa Fe, simply could not spreadits troops thinly enough to police allof New Mexico Territory, which thenembraced the present state of NewMexico, all of Arizona north of theGila River, southern Nevada, and partof Colorado.Commerce on the Santa Fe Trailwas mounting rapidly; but the mentraveling that trail in 1850 were notof the same high calibre as those who

had traveled it 20 years before. Therehad come to be a trigger-happy ele-ment, ready to slaughter anything thatmoved, including buffalos and Indi-

ans. This, naturally, brought retalia-tions by the Indians, and losses tofreighters were mounting accordingly.Yielding to incessant demands forincreased protection along the trail,Congress eventually authorized theestablishing of Fort Union, and con-struction was begun in September,1851. Basically, the fort was to serveas headquarters of the Ninth MilitaryDepartment of the United States Army,and a supply center for 40 or 50 sub-sidiary forts to be spotted strategicallyover a radius of 500 miles.During the first 10 years of FortUnion's history, citizens of New Mex-ico lived in a degree of isolation almostimpossible to conceive in this day ofrapid communication.In a Memorial to the Congress ofthe United States, adopted in 1853 byNew Mexico's territorial legislature,urgent plea was made for more ade-quate roads and better mail service."The road to Missouri (the SantaFe Trail) is the great business thor-oughfare of the Territory," it was setforth. "Th e distance from Fo rt Unionto Independence is more than 700miles and on this long and dreary lineof road there is but a single militarystation, a single Indian trading post,and at these two places only can the

F E B R U A R Y , 1 9 5 3


8/44

Tall brick chimneys rise gaunt and cold along what was officers' row.traveler receive an assistance in hisgreatest need."At that time, still quoting the Mem-orial, the Territory had mail serviceonly once monthly to Missouri andeastern points, and once each twomon ths to Texas. To receive ananswer to a letter addressed to anypoint east of Independence or SanAntonio, it was stated, "requires threemonths or more."That a military installation of FortUnion's calibre could have been builtand equipped in the face of such dif-ficulties seems almost incredible.On a reservation eight miles square,at a cost of approximately one-thirdof a million dollars, there was erecteda four-company post, consisting ofbarracks for enlisted single men, at-tractive quarters for bachelor officersand for married men with families,residential accommodations for civilianemployes; mess halls, kitchens, bakery,a large well-equipped hospital, animpregnable guardhouse, brick kiln,sawmill, stable facilities for 1000 headof mules and horses, and storage ware-houses capable of accommodating2000 tons of hay and 2,000,000 bush-els of grain.During the 1860s, the fort had inconstant employ approximately 1000personsharness makers, repairmen,wheelwrights, wagon makers, black-smiths, carpenters, and general labor-ers, and the sutler's store was doingan average daily business of $3000.

Married officers brought their wivesand children to live at the fort andit soon became a lively place, withweddings, christenings, dances, box

socials, ball games, and celebrationsfor every slightest cause. A M asoniclodge was organized and a hall builton the grou nds. Before it was manyyears old, this place in the dry plainsof northern New Mexico numberedthe largest white population of anycity between the Mississippi Riverand the Pacific Coast.But that other life seemed terriblyremote as we sat there that night inthe old ordnance building, 100 yearsalmost to the daysince the firstjoist had been laid; 60 years and sevenmonths since the last soldier had takenhis departure from the fort and theWar department had officially closedthe books.Snapping brightly and spreading itswarm radiance in the chill Octoberair, our campfire of dry scrub-oakwood sent yellow shadows dancing onthe old adobe walls and across theearthen floor. Above our headswinked a million stars in a cold darksky; but across the arroyoin a fallencity where gay young people had oncewhirled in cotillion and schottischethere showed not a pinprick of light;and but for the crackling of our dyingfire, not a whisper of sound broke thestillness of our high wide world.Morning found us out of our sleep-ing bags at dawn; and quickly asbreakfast might be prepared andcamp made ship-shape, we were offto our lost city noon sandwichestucked in our pockets, and canteens

and cameras slung over our shoulders.No Columbus setting forth for hisNew World could have been fired withgreater anticipation.

Temporarily lost to view while wewere crossing the arroyo, once we hadscrambled up the steep bank beyond,the old ruins reappearedand withsurprising magnitude! From camp wehad been able to see only the singlerow of structures immediately facingus . Now that we were closer, we couldsee other rows of adobe buildingsspreading well to the rear.Tall and cold amid the line officers'quarters they had served, stood adouble row of well-preserved fire-places and huge brick chimneys, someof the latter leaning far out of plumbas if wearied of bracing themselvesagainst the stinging blizzards that win-ter sends sweeping across this highland. Interior walls of the old build-ings held large irregular sections oftheir original plaster, still white andsmooth despite decades of exposure tothe weather.About midway of officers' rowstood one dead cottonwood. Most ofits bark had been gnawed away bytime and the elements, leaving thesapwood smoothly polished and whiteas ma rble. Tow ard the farther endof the street stood another cottonwood,stunted by drouth, but still clinging tolife with the stubborn courage of itskind.We had hoped to take a census ofthe buildings, but due to their ad-vanced deterioration it was often im-possible to know where one ended andanoth er began. As nearly as we couldjudge, there appeared to be a hun-dred or more structures in variousstages of collap se. Larg est of these isthe hospital situated at the southeastcorner of the fort, nearly 400 yardsfrom any other building. Bridging theintervening distance is a neat flagstonesidewalk, about three feet wide, andbordered throughout its length by flatrocks set on edge. Acco rding to ourmeasurement the building was 100 x250 feet in area, with numerous wardsleading off a central corridor.Best preserved of all buildings atthe fortand the only one with itsroof intact is the all-rock guard-house where Geronimo and Billy theKid both are said to have been tem-porarily imprisoned . Access to thejail's 10 cells originally was given by10 pon dero us iron doo rs. All of thesehave been removed, despite the factthat they were scarcely the sort oftrinkets a tourist might carry away inhis pock et! Oth er than this loss, theold jail is so well preserved that itmight be reactivated tomorrow. Tothe credit of human progress it may

be said that no civilized nation onearth would today permit the use ofsuch a place. W ith its cramp ed stonecells, providing neither light, heating,8 D E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


9/44

nor sanitation facilities, the Fort Uniondung eon was a. place far better co n-templated from the outside.Prowling through the tall grass andweeds fringing the parade ground, wediscovered two concrete markers. One,an obelisk-shaped affair, tapering toa central peak, carried on its face anelevation notice:(.835.493A B O V ET I D E W A T E R

AUG. 1867The other marker, chipped andfaded with age, might have served asa monu ment to procrast inat ion. Onone face of it appeared this engraving:U.S.M E R I D I A Nan dLATITUDE MARK

ExplorationsWest of the100'h MeridianWar DepartmentReverse side of the monument read:Long.hatU.S. E N G I N E E R S1871

Evidently the marker had beenerected prior to that 80-year-ago sur-vey, and after completion of the sur-vey, the figures had never been added.And now, I doubt if they ever will be!Dry and weedy, unkempt andlonely, the old parade ground gavelittle hint of the many stirring scenesit had witnessed. It had seen brave

men ride forth to battle and death,their wives and daughters and sweet-hearts trying to act brave and confi-dent while their hearts were shrivelinginside them and the departmental bandwas making the bare hills ring withthe Fort 's traditional song of depar-ture The Girl I Left Behind Me.And for 40 years, the old paradeground had seen troops come ridingback - sometimes in the rollickingmood of victory, sometimes in fewernumber than they had gone forthbut always with the band playing Outof the Wilderness.There had been gory engagementswith hostile Indians and border ruffi-ans; and there had been the Civil War.Marching westward out of Texasin 1862, the gray-clad Army of theConfederacy had rolled over NewMexico like a juggernaut, capturingevery town and city in its line of

march. Albuquerque had fallen Feb-ruary 2 1 ; Santa Fe, on March 10.With these victories, General H. H.Sibley and his force of 2300 troopshad begun their march on Fort Union,the principal objective of the Con-federacy in New Mexico.Unlike Albuquerque and Santa Fe,Fort Union was manned in sufficient

strength that she need not wait help-lessly for capture. Instead, assemblycall had once again sounded in theold parade ground, and when GeneralSibley's men reached Apache Canyon,on March 26, they found that FortUnion had established a line of de-fense 45 miles southwest of her base.In the fierce battle that ensued, 32Confederate soldiers were slain, 43wounded, and 71 taken prisoners.Fort Union's losses were lighterbutthere were losses.Another battle between the oppos-

ing forces occurred two days later atnearby Pigeon's Ranch, and with thesubsequent destruction of a Confeder-ate supply train camped at Canoncito,the invaders from Texas were forcedto fall back to Santa Fe . Soon after-ward, Gen. Sibley withdrew from thecapital city and retreated down theRio Grande.The author'? mother examines some of the old relicsfound during the exploration of the old fort site. An elevation marker probably erected here by surveyorsin the middle of the last century.

FEBRUARY, 19 53


10/44

In his failure to capture Fort Union,Confederate plans to conquer theSouthwest had been frustrated, andmany historians believe that this fail-ure may have been responsible forchanging the entire course of the war.For at least half of its career, FortUnion was one of the most importantArmy posts in the United States, andon its records appear many illustriousnames. Here served Gen. E. R. S.Canby, later to be murdered in north-eastern California while seeking tonegotiate peace with a band of rene-gade Modocs. Others, in some fash-ion connected with the fort, includeThomas J. "Stonewall" Jackson. JohnA. Logan, Kit Carson, and Gen.Ulysses S. Grant, who is said to havereturned to the post in later years "tofeel again the lift of the high mesa,with its illimitable views."Leaning our backs against the warmadobe wall, letting our eyes rangeover those tumbled ruins, it was sat-isfying to remember that life at FortUnion had not been all grim andgory. Wherever men died in the fron-tier West, there, too. men had lived afull life.Not until the sun was ncaring thepine-topped mesa to the west, andthe chill of evening was creeping backinto the air, did we turn our stepscam pward . Even then, we routed ourway past the site of the sutler's store.

where the commercial life of FortUnion formerly had its beginning andend. Here, women could purchasesugar for 50 cents a pound, and to-matoesox-freighted all the way fromSt. Louisfor $1.50 a can.But no longer did the old store of-fer anything to please the palate orgladden the eye; nor was it possiblefor a stranger to know with certaintyexactly where the store had stood, al-though our platted map of the fortgave us fair idea. At the point wehad figured for the site of the store,lay a great accumulation of broken bot-tles, fragments of white crockerydishes, and slivers of purple desertglass.Scuffing along through the dust onthe hill slope, Mother found a badly-worn wooden bungpossibly from avinegar or molasses barreland Dadconsidered himself one of earth'schosen people when he came upon an

old brass button from an Army uni-form. Other than these, our memen-toes of the day included only a muleshoe, a few harness buckles, and acouple of buried bottles turned irides-cent by long exposure to mineral ele-ments in the soil. On the ground ,around many of the buildings, we hadfound fragments of window glass, oldand brittle, and rendered half opaqueby natural sandblasting.With morning of the third day, we

This is the season when it is a delightful experience to roam thedesert country as a camera-hunter, searching for unusual subjects andlovely backgrounds and striking cloud patterns for pictures whichwill bring pleasant memories in future years. And perhaps sharingthe enjoyment of them with Desert Magazine readersfor every monththe Desert staff offers prizes to those who send in the best prints. Anysubject which is essentially of the desert will be acceptable.Entries for the February contest must be in the Desert Magazineoffice. Palm Desert, California, by February 20, and the winning printswill app ear in the April issu e. Pictures whi ch arrive too late for onecontest are he ld ove r for the next month. First prize is $10; secon dprize $5.00. For non-winning pictures accepted for publication $3.00each will be paid. HERE ARE THE RULES

1Prints lor monthly contests must be black and white, 5x7 or larger, printedon glossy paper.2Each photograph submitted should be fully labeled as to subject, time andplace. Also technical d ata: camera, shutter spee d, hour of day , etc.3PRINTS WILL BE RETURNED WHEN RETURN POSTAGE IS ENCLOSED.4All entries must be in the Desert Magazine office by the 20th of the contestmonth.5Contests are open to both amateur and professional pho tographers. DesertMagazine requires first publication rights only of prize winning pictures.6Time and place of photograph are immaterial, except that it must be from thedesert Southwest.7ludges will be selected from Desert's editorial staff, and awards will be madeimmediately after the close of the contest each month.

Address All Entries to Photo Editor* 7 ic D e te n t PALM DESERT, CALIFORNIA

reluctantly broke camp, leaving everystick and stone in the old ordnancebuilding exactly as we had found it.As we turned down the little road,leading back to the main highway andto Watrous, the grand old fort gradu-ally faded from o ur view. For a littleway longer we followed the etchedruts of the Santa Fe Trail; but, at last,they too were swallowed in the bignessof the morning and the immensity ofthat high, lonely land.Fort Union is a ruinstark anddesolate and hopelessbut withal, thegreatest ruin of its kind in the entireSouthwe st! Because of this fact, citi-zens of Mora county, and of LasVegas (in San Miguel county), havebeen striving for many years to havethe fort set aside for perpetual preser-vation by the National Park Service,either as a national historical shrine,or as a national monument. Progressin this effort, sad to say, has not been

especially encouraging.One of the major stumbling blockstoward such accomplishment, we wereinformed by Lewis F. Schiele, man-ager of Las Vegas Chamber of Com-merce, is the fact that the ruins areowned by Union Land Grazing com-pany, an immense ranch bisected forseveral miles by the access road . Anylarge volume of tourist travel uponthat road, it is feared by the company,would create a serious fire hazard andthereby endanger adjacent rangelands.Another difficulty that has beset theproject thus far, said Mr. Schiele, in-volves the large outlay of funds neededfor purchasing the 860 acres of landon which the buildings are located.

During the 60 years elapsed sincedecommissioning of the fort in Febru-ary, 1891, its structures have providedbuilding materials to half a dozentowns and no-one-knows-how-manyranches. All principal woodwork, in-cluding roof timbers and floor joists,practically all of the original tin roof-ing, and a considerable quantity of thechoicest building stone, have beenpulled from the walls for re-use else-where. Some of it was taken by rightof proprietorship; some by midnightrequisition. In either case, it is gone.And so it is that the weakened build-ings are fast returning to the dry earthwhence they sprang. But even thoughevery timber and corner stone be spir-ited away even though its wallscrumble back to dust and the wildgrass and sage move in to cover themNew Mexico's grand old fort shallnever die.

Like the deeply-etched ruts of theSanta Fe Trail it was built to guard,so the glory of Fort Union will liveforever in the epic saga of the South-west.10 D E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


11/44

Devil's Elbow is a rugged country. In the days before Hoover dam the riversurged through this canyon with terrific power.B o a t T r i p i n M o j a v e C a n y o nBoatsman, explorer, rockhound, archeologist, fisherman, photog-rapherthere is something of interest for any or all of these hobbyistsin little known Mojave Canyon in the Colorado River below Needles,California. Eut it is almost nece ssar y to ha ve a boat to gain ac ce ss tothis fascinating region at the headwaters of Lake Havasu.

By CLINTON R. HULLPhotographs by the authorMap by Norton AllenN 1857, Lieut. J. C. Ives reportedin part to the War Department,"It seems destined by nature thatthe Colorado River along the greaterportion of its majestic course shall re-main forever unvisited and unmo-lested."Lieut. Ives' dour forecast as to thefuture of the Colorado River is easilyunderstood. He had spent many weekspulling and pushing his iron boat, theExplorer, from the mouth of the river400 miles upstream to Black Canyon.He could see little virtue in a streamwhich had given him such a bad time.Today the canyons of the LowerColorado are nearly all accessible. Theupper entrance to one of the mostcolorful and spectacular of them all isat Topock Bay, Arizona, but 15 milesfrom Needles. California, over U. S.Highway 66."The most neautiful little canyonon the river and the most photo-genic." our friend John Booth insistedwhen telling us abo ut it. "B ut you'll

have to come by water. No roads ortrails into Mojave except the river."So it was in early April when Etheland I parked our car and trailer at

Shorty's Camp, a level, well kept campsite and boat landing snugged tightinto the mesquite sheltered shore ofTopock Bay between water and high-way, launched our 14 foot plastic boatat the excellent free launching ramp,loaded our cameras and lunch aboardand I pulled the starting rope on theEvenrude motor.At the lower end of the half milewide bay we dodged a long tongue ofsandbar, cruised slowly through thenarrow opening into the river andturned southward beneath the trio ofhigh bridges which carry the Santa FeRailroad, U. S. Highway 66 and theTexas-to-California "big inch" gas lineover the river at Topock.We'd crossed two of those bridgesmore than once, but like thousands ofothers who visit Lake Havasu andParker Dam or roar along the high-way east or west, we had never realizedthat but a short distance away wasone of the most scenic and delightfulspots imaginable.Those bridges are at the portal ofa lovely cany on. Against the rockfaced railroad embankment the rivergathers its straying waters from the

miles of deep, tule lined sloughs andby-passed river beds above Topockand rolls past the bridges into thetunneled maw of Mojave Canyon."There was a time," John Booth toldus . "when the river at its flood stagesurged through this canyon with tre-

mendous power. But since Hooverand Davis dams have been completedupstream the flood torrents never reachthis point. Th e curren t now flows lessthan two miles an hour ." Since theColorado's heavy load of silt is depos-ited behind the dams, the water isalmost clear.Topock Bay is regarded as the up-per end of Lake Havasu, that greatreservoir formed by the MetropolitanWater district's dam at Parker, Ari-zona. However, during the years sincethe dam was completed sediment has

built up the floor of the upper lake somuch that the water level at Topockactually is five feet higher than the topof Parker dam. There is a noticeablecurrent for a distance of 13 miles be-low Topock.The shore above the canyon is linedwith cat-tails and wild rice. Thesegave way as we approached the gorgewhich the river in prehistoric ageschiseled between Arizona's Mojaverange on one side and California'sChemehuevi Mountains on the other.Even in the upper gorge there are

feeder canyons in the solid walls, andin these canyons are sloughs almosthidden by tules. These side canyons.we learned later, are perfect hidingF E B R U A R Y , 1 9 5 3 11


12/44

^ \ i l GAUGING STA ..... .... . . f'^,'/ '; '": ," ; '"

iliifkV't- '"" '-- $" " ': Devi7s Elbow < p OV ER -N IGHT CA MP SP O T ,''>'', '"v'i -V'" '''"". .,, ':- .^Nffiiondorai"(Split) Rock'" ' '%

' Picture

:

*wyjn_places for the river's big channel cat-fish and largemouth bass.Scattered encelia and creosotebushes climbed high up the talus slopes.Mesquite and tamarisk wedged them-selves into the shattered rock and pla-toons of bisnaga cactus marched downfrom the highest visible summits tostand but inches above water-line. Atintervals flaming beavertail cactusblossoms gleamed like neon lights fromthe sun-baked shale along the canyonwalls.Three miles down-river from thebridges where the precipitous wallscrowded the river into a channel lessthan 500 feet wide, John's weatheredcottage came into view, perched atopa hump-backed shelf above the num-bered column and swaying cable carof the U. S. Geodetic Survey's LakeHavasu gauging station.

John is the canyon's only inhabitant.A spry young fellow of 75, formermining metallurgist, world traveler,gadgeteer, photographer and outdoors-man, now gauging station attendant,who romps up and down the 45-degreegoat trail between cottage and boatlandin g with surprising agility. Hisbounty supports a family of friendlykangaroo rats. He bakes the bestcherry pie in Arizona.John has neither road nor telephoneand his only means of contact withthe outside world are his outboard boatand the short wave radio over whichhe receives his ord ers. But few menhave more visitors, more real friends,or lead a happ ier life. "I live," hechuckles, "as thousands of peoplewould like to live if they could."Directly behind his cottage the redand gold pinnacles of The Needles

climb steeply from the river's 450 footlevel to 2,00 0 feet and more . Pinn a-cles which for thousands of years musthave landmarked the river crossingfor wandering bands of Indians, andto which the Spanish explorers, Juande Onate (1604-5), Father FranciscoGarces (1775-6) and possibly Her-nando de Alarcon (1540) thoughthis last is doubtful found their way,as did James Ohio Pattie and PeglegSmith in 1825-6, Jededia Smith in1826-7 and engineers of the Santa FeRailroad who first bridged the riverin 1883. These Pinnacles also gavethe Mojave (Three mountain) tribe ofIndians and the railroad town ofNeedles their names. Opposite them,across the river, the jumbled chaos ofthe even more rugged but somewhatlower Chemehuevis form the west wallof the canyon.

With John aboard as guide, weswung again onto the blue and silverribbon of the river as it curved awayto disappear into the wave-like lavaformations along Devil 's Elbow, adouble-jointed dog-leg jog, whose per-pendicular walls glowed molten red inthe early morning sun as though stillsmoldering with the subterranean firesthat spawned them.To the left, beneath an over-hang-ing ledge whose walls and ceiling wereblack with centuries of cooking fires,John pointed out the probable stop-ping-off place for inter-visiting Cheme-huevi and Mojave Indians, betweenwhose tribal lands the canyon was thedividing line.

The Chemehuevis, who were mem-bers of the Shoshonean and Paiutefamily and primarily hunters and raid-ers, held the valley from The Needlessouthward to the Bill Williams Riverand what is now lower Lake Havasuand Parker Dam . The Mojaves, of themore stationary Yuman group, farmedthe rich river bottoms near the presenttown of Needles and ranged northwardto Black Canyon in which Hoover Damis now located.Fierce warriors all of them; themembers of the 4000 strong Mojave,or Hamokhara Nation, (Whipple, Pac.R. R. Rep. Ill, 1856) in particular,were noted for their tribal loyalty,powerful physiques and were rated sec-ond only to the Apaches in fightingability.

Lieut. Ives said in his report to theWar Department that the Mojaveswere as fine a people physically as hehad ever seen.But so troublesome did they becomeduring the frenzied westward rush ofthe gold hungry 49ers that two expe-ditions, one under Capt. Sitgreaves in1850 and a second under Lieut. Whip-



13/44

points to the storm symbol a mong the petroglyphs o n Picture Rock.

At the entrance to Booth Cavern. Someone has filed a mining claim on the batguano in this cave.

F E B R U A R Y , 1 9 5 3 13


14/44

The bay and the three bridges at Topock on the A rizona side of the river.pie in 1854, were sent against them.It required Fort Mojave and a per-manently stationed troop of soldiersfinally to bring them under control.

At Devil 's Elbow the highest peakformations shifted to the Chemehuevis,their broken crests of alternate lavaand granite reaching hundreds of feetinto the crisp blue sky, their flamingimages mirrored deep in the dark bluewa ter of the river. Th ree miles belowthe Elbow and approximately a milefrom shore on the California side ahuge arch, deep-etched into the sheerface of the cliff was reminiscent ofGlen Canyon 400 miles to the north.Here the canyon walls swung wideagain to hem the sandy wastes of theChemehuevi Valley and Lake Havasu,and bald old Mojave Rock crouched

like some prehistoric monster to splitthe river channel, its flood carved up-stream face the nesting place for agreat colony of swallows. Below it amillion tons of sand lay in long, con-stantly shifting bars.

Mojave Rock lies at mile 10 fromTopock and marks the end of thecanyon, but the return trip, with thesun high overhead, was even morespectacular. Everywh ere, from w ater-line to summit, natural arches werevisible; some but inches in size, others,whose openings spanned many feet,rode the skylines of the blister-pittedvolcanic ridges. Yellow and whitesand dunes draped themselves mantle-like about the shoulders of dark peaksand lighter colored masses of brokengranite jutted through their eons oldburden of over-lying lava.

Oddly enough, no minerals arefound in paying quantities but thegravel beds near Mojave Rock provedfair hunting groun ds. In half an hourwe found jasper, agate, chalcedony,quartz and several chunks of obsidian,all obviously alluvial detritus.This is cave form ation. Tw o largeones, Both Cavern and Pack-Rat Cave,are but a short distance from the river.The first, which John had discoveredseveral years before, and whose roomsbeneath a sheer 75 foot dry waterfallcould shelter several dozen personsand does shelter a huge colony of batslies directly below and to the leftof a great open arch plainly visibleatop a ridge a mile above Mojave Rockon the Arizona side.The second, also in Arizona, I dis-covered when I climbed ashore to

Mojave Rock in the middle of the stream at the lowhistoric landmark. end of Mojave Canyon is a



15/44

photograph an especially beautifulbeavertail cactus. Its nine foot ceilingand 15 by 20 foot room is much moreusable and overlooks a tiny bay prob-ably a mile nearer Devil's Elbow. Un-questionably there are others, perhapsmuch larger, to be found. The place iswell worth a v/eekor a monthofexploration.But to us the most interesting of allwas Picture Rock, a great gray slablying but a few hundred feet fromBooth Cavern, its surface literally cov-ered with dozens of petroglyphs. Thefigures were very crude but unusuallynumerous and deeply etched into thehard surface. Predominant amongthem were the storm signs.Lava blisters beneath the apparentlysolid surface drummed hollowly as wewalked across the nearly level area infront of the stone, giving an eerie feel-ing to the place. Over most of theshelf were hundreds of black and pearlcolored fragments of quartz, obsidianand flint from the making of arrowheads. Ethel searched diligently whileJohn and I examined the drawing, butwas unable to find any undamagedpieces.Looking out over the broad expanseof the river toward the ChemehueviValley it was easy to picture the oldarrow-maker seated in the warm sun,perhaps with his camp behind himand his son or grandson busily etchingthe story of the tribe in stone that willremain unchanged long after our own

civilization has crumbled and gone.Above Picture Rock, on both sidesof the river, stone faces and figuresstood out in gigantic mold. The Chief'sprofile and Cockscomb Ridge in theChemehuevis; Satan's Urn, Heron'sView and Mardarin (Split) Rock inthe curve of Devil's Elbow; the latterwhen seen from a point close to theArizona cliffs resembles to an aston-ishing degree a fat old Chinese Man-darin.Near the Elbow and now coveredwith water Jchn remembers seeing

iron rings set into the rocks, perhapsby Lieut. Ives, or by Capt. Johnson,who pushed The General Jessup overthe same course in 1885, but morelikely by the barge skippers whohauled gold ore from the old Mossmine in Oatmai after the civil war.Behind John's cottage as we pulledup to his landing, the spires of TheNeedles, dull r;d in the evening sun,flaunted their battlements high abovethe river. That was our first trip toMojavebut not our last. For heretruly is one oE the Colorado's mostintriguing canyons.Best of all to us, is the quiet,unspoiled beauty of the place. Thefeeling that here is peace and the

s a s e s m m f g i

T

I ' \I . There are always fish enough to eat, and a few to take home.

frenzied rush of the outside world maybe forgotten. Half a dozen boats maypass in a day, or none at all. Andyou're strictly on your own. Thereare no guided tours or commercializedboat trips. The canyon is too smallfor that. But if you have no boat ofyour own you can obtain one atShorty's Camp, Site Six, or HavasuLanding and park your outfit there.

There are bird sanctuaries at eitherend of Mojave, and cormorants, ducksand geese sweep up and down the riverin flocks of 50 or more. White andblue herons stand like one-legged sen-tinels along the shifting bars and onthe tips of up-thrust rocks overlookingthe tule beds where hundreds of noisycoot cluck and squabble. Beaver andmuskrats swim boldly across the riverand the big brown hawks fly theirdeadly patrol.

There is no closed fishing season

on the Colorado, though for most ofus the summer months are much toowarm. Spring and fall days are de-lightful, with balmy evenings, coolnights and snappy mornings. Thereare few mosquitoes, though there aregnats of an evening and flies aroundcamp during the day.Perhaps too there is better fishingto be had than is found in the canyonproper and there is little hunting there,but the bay and sloughs around To-pock afford plenty of both. Fish ornot, to us the grandeur of the crum-bling walls, ablaze in the slanting sun,the rich blue of the narrow sky-capabove and the equally blue water ofthe river are enough. Whether we takeour bedrolls for a quiet night in thecanyon or return to camp, somehowthere are always fish to eat, a few totake home and the feeling that perhapsafter all the world is a pretty goodplace to be.

FEBRU ARY , 19 53 15


16/44

B e d a n d G r u b in a K n a ps ac kMembers of California's Sierra Club take regularly scheduledback-pack trips into the many beautiful mountain areas of the South-we st. W eldo n Heald finds als o that there is exhilarating pleasu re ingoi ng out on two or three-day p ack trips alone. With his hom e on hisback he has traveled thousands of miles in the desert wilderness areasof the Southwest. Here he tells wha t to take and h ow to organize anovernight knapsack expedition.

7 he author, his pack on his back, p auses on a several-day trip into one ofthe remoter regions of the desert Southw est. The cane came from Switzer-land 22 years ago, and Heald has hiked thousands of miles with it since then.

16

By WELDON F. HEALDPhotographs by the AuthorOR SEVERAL years I have beentaking two and three-day knap-sack trips into little-known areasof the Southwest. On foot I havevisited spectacular hidden canyons,mesas studded with long-forgotten cliffdwellings and skyline oases bristlingwith pine, spruce and fir. These trips,with my home on my back, have re-vealed as nothing else could, the vastsilent fascination of the desert.

And yet, in all my wanderings inArizona 1 have never m et anotherback -pack er. Why this simple, inex-pensive and thoroughly satisfactorymethod of travel, so popular elsewhere,has been neglected in the Southwest isa puzzle to me. In fact, with the ex-ception of members of the Sierra Clubof California I know of no confirmedknapsackers in the entire region.

1 believe that many Southwesternersare missing a stimulating and exhila-rating experien ce. For 1 have foundthat it is only when automobiles, horsesand gregarious organized parties areleft behind that one feels the ultimate,breath-taking impact of this uniqueland. With a knapsack on my back Iam on my ow n. I have shed the lastwrappings of civilized insulation andmeet the elusive personality of thedese rt full-face in the glaring sun ofmidday and under the velvet, star-filled skies.

However, this form of travel, likemost everything else in life, has itsdrawb acks. A heavy load on a longtrail can become a form of punishmentakin to the self-imposed lashings ofthe Flagelantes. On the other hand,the packer may deprive himself ofmuch of the pleasure of the trip bypacking too lightby leaving out es-sential items merely for the sake ofmak ing an easy load to carry. So,back-packing resolves itself into acompromise somewhere between tak-ing everything but the kitchen stove,and carrying nothing at all. Nob odyhas yet found a perfect complete ad-justment between these two extremes,but through trial and error I havemanaged to achieve a reasonableamount of comfort and well being onshort knapsack trips without stagger-ing under an unbearable burden. Mywhole philosophy of knapsacking isbased on the theory that any load over25 pounds is too heavy and that 1would rather carry 15 than 20. So my

D E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


17/44

Aravaipa Canyon in southern Arizona is wilderness country ideal for desert knap-sack trips. Pink sand stone walls rise 700 feet above a crystal clear stream.FE B RU A R Y , 19 5 3 17


18/44

chief concern has been to pare downwhat I consider essential equipment toa minimum of lightweight items.My basic pack, consisting of thenecessities for any trip, long or short.weighs a little over 11 Vi pounds andincludes the following:

ITEMS LBS. OZ.Nylon knapsack . . . 1 0Detachable metal pack frame 1 0Blanket sleeping bag and case ... 5 11Cooking kit 1 810x10" square cooking griddle 1 0First aid kit (including snake bitekit and waterproof matchbox) 0 5Toilet kit (comb, steel mirror, toothbrush, tooth paste, hotel-size soaprazor omitted) __.. 0 10Pencil flashlight & extra batteries 0 4Paper towelling 0 3

Total 1 1 9This weight can be reduced by apound if you don't mind your pots and

pans becoming smoke-blackened overan open fire. However, I have foundthe cooking griddle to be one of myhappiest discoveries. Made of mag-nesium two-thirds the weight ofaluminumthe griddle is flat with aslight flaring rim all around. Not onlydoes it serve as a stove-top, keepingcooking equipment clean, but one canfry directly on the griddle, and it makesan excellent toaster as well. The pencilflashlight is a second useful but notessential item which can be omitted.Another major find was the feather-weight rucksa ck. Norwegian style,with a detachable magnesium frame,it measures 17 inches high. 47 inchesaround the base, is waterproof, and isthe coolest and most comfortable packI have ever carried. Two outer zipperpockets provide space for camera

This rocky peak in Cochise Stronghold, Arizona, is but one of the endlessremote and little-known areas to explore on back pack trips.

equipmentwhich with me adds 2Vkpounds :ITEMS LBS OZ.

Miniature camera and case 0 15Filter and adapter ring .. 0 2Automatic self-taker 0 2Light meter OilFilms .... 0 6Total 2 4

Of course, all this need not be car-ried in the pack. You can hang thecamera from your neck or shoulderand decorate yourself around the beltlike an animated Christmas tree withphotographic equipment, as well asfirst aid kit, cup, knife and hand ax.In this way you can delightfully deludeyourself, for no true knapsacker everconsiders that articles carried outsidethe pack have any weight whatsoever.On these energetic expeditions it ishighly important that you have a goodnight's rest, and your bed is usually

the heaviest single item. I will put upno strenuous argument that my mum-my-type experimental army blanketba g and case are the lightest and mostefficient made. And I do know frompainful experience that they are justborderline for comfortable sleepingwhen the temperature drops below 45F. On the other hand, bag and caseroll into a much less bulky bundlethan a down bag of the same weight,an d I can tie it to the back ends ofmy rucksack shoulder straps with twowebbing straps, where it rides easilyand is well balanced. When I expectcold nights I substitute a larger downbag with light ground sheet, but thisweighs more and, in general, is muchless satisfactory for knapsack trips.Ano ther substitution for cold w eatheris warmer extra clothing. My ancientand much-traveled suede jacket, al-most equalling my hat in disreputabil-ity, is sufficient for spring, summerand fall, but in winter or when camp-ing at high altitudes I switch to asweater and windbreaker. They addwelcome insulation and outweigh thejacket by only 5 ounces. Also during

the summer rainy season in the moun-tains of Arizona and New Mexico alight 15-ounce poncho often pays itsfreight.Every knapsacker has his favoritegadget, and perhaps I gloat most overmy cooking kit. A neater job I neversaw and the man who designed it de-serves a medal. Nested in a strong,light cloth case, 7 inches in diameteran d 3 inches deep, are 11 aluminumpieces weighing but a pound and ahalf frying pan with detachablehandle, pot with bale, pot cover, deep-

rimmed plate or pan, cup, knife, forkand spoon, bottle and can opener. Ibought this kit several years ago andD E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


19/44

Weldon Heald's basic pack is the same for overnight or a week-long knapsack trip.It weighs a little more than 11V2 pounds. Food carried will bring the load up tofrom five to 10 pounds more, depending on the length of time on the trail.I believe it is, or was, official Boy fire started in the morning. I hasten instant coffee (2 oz. equals aboutScout equipment. to add, for the benefit of fastidious l P o u n d r e 8 u l a r coffee> -I have never had difficulty scraping campers, that your cooking equipment ^se;-;;;"~; |J jjtogether enough fuel for cooking even c a n b e thoroughly sterilized in boiling Small can evaporated milk.... 0 8on the desert, so do not tote along a w a t e r u P o n y u r r e t u r n t 0 civilization Salt pepper ... 0 V2portable stove. Nor have I needed my ~ that bit of egg need adhere to gits ra sins.dried fruit 0 small belt ax which weighs 1 pound, the frying pan to mar your next trip. Vvor it e dessert) Z? P . 0 9f. nnnrpc Hr,w,>vpr n cmrH tnifp u But, fastidious or not, I believe it isL k S s a b l e S e a n d w ar U k e h u n a maxim that an honest-to-goodness Other foods near the top in nourish-indispensable. Huge and warlike hunt- , h h i l | h ment are peanut butter, with 2740ing knives look impressive, but are knapsacker never shaves while on the ^ . ^ ^ ^ ^ ^only in the way; all youneed is a sturdy lId11- . . 9 7 7 n roinr,v , p^^-u,^ m . i r ,mniDocket knife with several blades in a A s l s a i d before, there is nothing Z//{J calories. Packaged macaroni4nch handle w S B atout 3 sc i e n t i f i c a b o u t my m e t h o d s" T h a t p r ( ? U C t S ' P ^ P a r e d i l\. sueven minutesounces Then - counle of band inas goes for food too. The fact that the m a k e a good evening dish, and I ottenare useful and ran serte many our daily U. S. army ration contains 3500 carry hamburger or canned roast beef.J o J 1 h dk he t o V o t ^rge calories and nearly 100 grams Cans, however, weigh from a pound toposes from a handkerchief to a pot => J 1 have a P o u n d an d a h a l f ' making them aholder. I always keep one in my hip } Priein 'eaves me com. i nave t- ; . ,' . & ,pocket where the loose end protrudes simply worked out various combina- J ry to be indulged ,n only onas a sort of official expedition flag. tion of light-weight foods, high in cal- shorter tripsb one content, which have proved to be But combinations are endless and.One of the pleasures of knapsack- s u f f i c i e n t f u e l t o pr Opel me there and of course, dehydrated and powdereding is that camp chores can be reduced b a c k without pangs of gnawing hun- foods as well as balanced army, Boyto a minimum. My method of doing g e r H e r e are a few foocj j t e m s wjth Scout and commercial rations arcthem the easy way is to take 25 or 30 weights for a three-day trip : available. One advertised ration con-sheets of paper towelling in lieu of ITEMS LBS. OZ. sists of precooked, dehydrated, pack-dish cloths and towels. Pots, pans and Vl & ess^ & cardboad container a g e ( j m e a ] s averaging about 2500 cal-plates can be scrubbed reasonably [2 halT sHces'bacon6" ne y 0 4 o n e s a n d o v e r 90 grams protein perclean with warm water and a couple 6 slices bread 0 7 day. These include such civilized fareof sheets of the paper; you can dry Butter 0 K as chicken or beef and gravy, but eachyourself with it after washing; and it SSSffSte P(i5SS4 ^ S ) m e a l ^ fm a Pund to nearlyis easily disposed or or used to get the and/or tea bags .... 0 2 twopounds and I have found them toF E B R U A R Y , 19 5 3 19


20/44

Thousand of miles of trail in the great Southwest lie open and waiting forhikers to visit for a day, a week or a month. Here a group passes thro ughone of the many narrow canyons in Chiricahua National Monum ent.load up my rucksack more than foodsof my own selection. Fur therm ore, Iam apt not to want to eat a particularmeal at the time I'm supposed to haveit. Th at is my main objection to defi-nite daily rations planned beforehand.But if you prefer a ration system, evenif you make it up yourself, a handymethod is to pack each meal in atough, thin, waterproof plastic bagabout 4x4x8 inches and seal it withscotch tape.But no matter how much advice oldhands can give you, satisfactory foodfor knapsacking trips can be workedout only through experience by eachindividual. Peop le's tastes and require-ments differ greatly, and even theweather and length of daily hikes willalter you r appetite. But in every case,the food lists prepared by so-calledexperts prescribe far greater amounts

than I have ever needed. On a check-up of several authoritative knapsackand camping manuals, I find that thefood considered necessary for one manfor three days varies from 8 pounds, 4ounces to over 12 pou nds. AlthoughI weigh 175 pounds and make noclaims to a bird-like appetite, my ownthree-day food supply checks in atfrom 5V i to 7 pounds, and even thenthere is always something left over.Another knack that comes with ex-perience is getting the most out ofyou r food. Here are two out of manydodges that add pleasure to my trips.I always carry a couple of one-ouncepackages of concentrated fruit flavor-ing pow der. No thing is more refresh-ing on the trail than a cool drink oflemonade or orangeade, and the sugaradded gives you a needed boost ofquick energy. Then an appetizing

delicacy can be made by cooking pow-dered cheese with powdered eggs fora tasty Welch rarebit poured over aslice of toast. Inventing ingeniousconcoctions is a knapsacker's preroga-tive, and he is inordinately pleasedwith himself over his culinary discov-eries. I am no exception, bu t some ofmy most remarkable stodges over thefire seem to bring joy to me alone.Some knapsackcrs chew gum andsuck hard candy to allay thirst on thetrail. This ever-present thirst whichsometimes will pursue one for hoursup hill and down, brings us finally tothe delicate question of water. Withgruesome tales of horrible deaths fromthirst a part of the folk-lore of theSouthwest, I hardly have the temerityto advise knapsackers to leave theircanteens behind unless they are abso-lutely necessary. How ever, a filledquart-and-a-half canteen weighs fourpounds, eight ounces, and that is onlya drop in the bucket, figurativelyspeaking, to your daily need.

I took part in army desert tests dur-ing World War II which showed thatin a temperature of 80-85 F. an activeman lost over a gallon of water every24 hours. Sooner or later he mustmake up this dehydration. But toting10 to 12 pounds of drinking waterdoesn't seem to me the wise way todo it. Better, I think, is my rule: Nevertake a knapsack trip into an area whichhas no water. Learn before you startthe exact location of all springs,streams, pools or tanks, then be surethat drouth hasn't dried them up andthat it is the right season for them tobe filled. It has always been a sur-prise to me how many sources ofwater there are in this arid land, andin all my wanderings with a pack onmy back I have never yet made a drycam p. If you are not sure of a goodsource of water for your night stopsdon' t go!

With a 16 to 18 pound pack onyour back and two good legs to carryyou, thousands of square miles of thegreat Southwest lie open and waitingfor you . Th ere are endless possibili-ties to explore and enjoy remote andlittle-known areas from CoachellaValley's Santa Rosa Mountains toBoquillas Canyon in the Big Bendcountry of Texas.

Maybe you and I will chance tomeet some day deep in Aravaipa Can-yon, by the Gila cliff dwellings in NewMexico, or even high on Nevada'sWheeler Peak. Then you can tell meabout your experiences with your homeon your back, and that evening we'llsit beside the glowing campfire andcompare notes on this fascinatingbusiness of knapsacking.20 D E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


21/44

L I F E O N T H E D E S E R TBy LOUISE SWITZER THOMPSON

Writes the author: "This really happened to me whenI taught school in the Upper Verde Valley in Arizonain 1904." This was one of the winning stories in DesertMagazine's Life-on-the-Desert contest.

7HE PACK RAT and I keptschool in a typical little countryschool house 50 years ago. Itwould be incorrect to say it was a"little red school house" for actuallyit had no trace of paint of any color.Six staring windows, two outhouses,and a hitching rack for ponies identi-fied it for what it was . It shimm eredin the heat of a flat barren mesa. Be-yond and below was the Verde riverbottom, lush with cottonwoods andwillows.Mr. Jordan was chairman of theboard of trustees, and he contributedsix children to the school's enrollment.Soon after 1 arrived he took me overto show me the school where I was tobegin my initial teaching the follow-ing Monday. Just out of normal schoolI was very earnest, and a little fright-ened at the prospect.

When the door screeched back onits rusty hinges I saw that the insideof the building was as devoid of paintas the outside. Probably the two rowsof desks had once been new and var-nished, but now they were carved withinitials and cattle brands.There was a water bucket with atin dipper on a bench beside the door.

Teacher's desk and a cottage organwere on a slightly raised platform atone end of the room, backed by ablackbo ard. A rusty pot-bellied stovesuggested that the weather would notalways be so hot. The ro om w as ceiledwith dirty gray cheesecloth that onceprobab ly was white. M r. Jord an, atransplanted New England Yankee wasvisibly straining to get back to his truckfarm and apple orchards but I timidlycalled his attention to an ominous bulgein the ceiling over the organ. He walkedover and squinted up at it.'"Pack rat,'1 he announced laconi-cally. "Ra scal's been down here too.Th ere's a hole in the cloth. Likelycome up under the eaves from outside.Wonder if that last teacher left any-thing out fer him to get at."He walked briskly over to a shallowcupboard behind teacher's desk. Pres-ently he rumbled:"Lo oks like ever'thing's here. Twelvenew erasers last year. She was alwayswan tin' something. Here's the register.Plenty of pencils and chalk fer a start.Likely be a box from the county super-

intendent with supplies by the time Iget up to Jero me again. Well I got tobe goin'. We're loadin' garden truckto take to town in the mor nin '. I'll

send Stelly over to help you dust thingsoff a bit. Go odby e now .""But the rat! What will we doabout him?""Shucks, he won't hurt you. Likelyyou 'll never see him. Hav e to get anew ceilin' in here next vacation. I'lltake it up with the school board."He shut the door firmly and wentoff, leaving me alone in the middle ofArizona with a pack rat, whatever thatwas.Mr. Jord an w as right. 1 never sawthe pack rat although there was evi-dence that he occupied the schoolroom after school was dismissed. Th echildren were entranced with our mas-cot and I often saw them gazing at thecorner of the ceiling that bulged loweras the months went by. Ther e was nosign from him even when the old or-gan groaned and squeaked out songsand marches under Stella Jordan's ef-forts.

But the pack ratJake we calledhim plied his trade . He made offwith two of the new erasers within amonth, carried off pencils and pens lefton desks, a forgotten spoon, and hehad an obsession for colored chalk. Iwo ndered if he ate it. An d always heleft payment for all he took in ratcoinage: sticks and stones, pine coneswashed down the river bed from for-ests miles awa y. Small red apples lefton desks by the children for him weresometimes ignored and pencils rootedout from behind the books in the desks.The climax came the day the oldclock on the wall gave up and died. Iput my new Ingersol special, smallsize for ladies, on the desk to checkthe time as the day wore on. Th eriver bed was a riot of autumn colorand after I dismissed the pupils Iwalked down to gather leaves, leavingmy watch on the desk. Wh en I re-turned there lay in its place a very drycow chip. I looked u p at the ceiling."A ll right, Jake. This is adding in-sult to injury and I am going to dosomething about you ." I locked upand went in search of Mr. Jorda n. Ifound him in his cave-like apple cellar,packing fruit. I stormed abou t thepack rat, then felt like a school childmyself as I awaited his reaction, if any."Tell you what," he said finally,"This is Friday, no school tomorrow.I'll give you some poisoned grain Iused in here to get rid of some of therascals."He walked over to a corner andreached high on a rafter for a can.

"Here's six grains, scatter 'em abouton the desks. Mark w here you put 'emand gather up any that are left in themornin'!""Do you think he will eat them?" Istammered, beginning to wish I hadnot been so vehement. "I didn't wantto kill him. I want the ceiling fixed.""Sartinly he'll eat 'em. No time tofix the ceilin' now. We are all toobusy gettin' the apples to market.""Y ou won 't tell the children? Theylike Jacob."

Mr. Jordan's eyes twinkled in thedim light. "I wo n't tell 'em but coun -try kids take things like that in theirstride. A man 's got to save his crops,you know."I retraced my way to the schoolhouse and gingerly placed the poisonedpellets on six separate desks, thenlocked up and hurried home to din-ner.I was not hungry. Mr. Jord an'slook of inquiry made me feel like across between the hangman and thenext applicant for a lot in Boothillcemetery . I nodd ed briefly and retiredto spend a restless night, wonderingfor the first time if Jake had a familyup there in the ceiling. M aybe hewould take them this special treat ofwheat grains and kill them all. I creptdownstairs at the break of day andhurried over to the schoolhouse. Ittook moral courage to open the door.No grain on the desk near the door,nor on the next. My hear t felt likelead as I walked slowly about. Butthere! On the smallest desk near minelay all six grains in a neat little pile."You win, Jake," I said looking upat the bulge in the corner, "You evenhave a sense of hum or. Keep thewatch for a Christmas present."I burned the grain and got up nerveenough to ask for a new supply ofpencils and for repairs to the ancientclock.Toward spring Jake made fewerdepredations and in the last month ofschool none at all. Possibly he hadmoved out to greener pastures. WhenI returned the following fall to teachmy second year the schoolhouse hada proper wood ceiling that lookedglaringly new against the old weatherstained walls. Mr. Jordan handed memy Ingersol with twinkling eyes."When we tore down the rat nestwe never saw hide nor hair of yourpack rat but he left this for you. Runsas good as ever."

F E B R U A R Y , 1 9 5 3 21


22/44

" / am Conchas," the Indian introduced himself, "and t has been a long time sinceI have seen this place."

More than 100 years h avepassed s ince the Peralta familyo f M e x i c o i s s a i d to h a v eworked a rich gold ledge inthe Superstition Mountains ofArizonaand the search stillg o e s on for the long lost treas-ure. Here is the story of oneof the m a n y men who h a v esought the fabulous Peraltaled ge .

By ROBERT L. GARMANArt sketch by Bill Edwards7H E R E AREmany stories of lostgold in the Superstition Moun-tains of Arizona, and almostwithout exception these stories beginin the middle of the last century whenmembers of thePeralta family of Mex-ico are reputed to have worked a richdeposit which they abandoned finally

Quest for the Peralta Goldafter repeated attacks by maraudingApache Indians.Just when thePeralta gold ledgewasdiscovered, and the identity of thosewho made the original location, arequestions upon which there is a widedivergence of report. But the Peraltasare said to have gone into the Super-stitions about 1847, and to have takenou t a fortune in high grade ore duringthe following three years.They are said to have decided toabandon the mine in 1850, and at thistime Pedro Peralta loaded the best ofthe ore including some rich placersand on a burro train and started onthe final trip to Mexico.Then Apache Indians, who hadbeenwatching the operation from the coverof nearby crags, swooped down on thepack train and wiped out the entirecavalcade. TheIndians were interestedprimarily in the tools and clothing and

weapons. They had no use for thegold ore, or for thepack animals. Theycu t the pack saddle harness and letthe ore lie where it fell, salvaging forthemselves only the food, utensils andclothing they desired.Many years later, one of those whoheard the Peralta story as it had beenpassed along through devious chan-nels, was a cowboy named C. H.Silverlock.He had been told that there wereplaces in the Superstitions where richgold ore lay on the surface of theground, requiring no labor except topick it up. Since he was a cowman,an d not a miner, this manner of ac-quiring gold appealed to him, and hestarted a search which continued foryears. Part of the time he was accom-panied by a partner named Kimball.an d it was by Kimball's son, who oc-casionally accompanied hisfather, that

22 DESERT MAGAZINE


23/44

Northwestern face of the Superstitions. It is believed that the last attack of theApaches which wiped out the Peralta pack train took place on the slope in theforeground. It is said that in later years the bones of humans and mules we refound here. Here Silverlock is said to have found some of his gold ore, and a20-ft. shaft hidden by cholla in this picture is believed to have been dug by him.the story was told many years later.In the early months of 1914, Silver-lock obtained employment on a ranchnear the west end of the mountains.As he went about his work on therange, and during his off-duty days hemade a systematic search of the can-yons in the vicinity.

He panned tli2 sand in the arroyosand occasionally found a trace of gold,but never in large quantities.Then one day as he was riding onthe northeast side of the Superstitionshe stopped to rest on a hillside coveredwith saguaro cactus, ocotillo and paloverde trees. It was a lovely natura lgarden and on the slope above hecould see prospect holes where minershad gouged out rock in search forstringers of gold.Just ahead of him there appearedto be an outcrop of quartz, partly hid-den in desert vegetation and the rhyo-lite rubble of the mo untain side. Hedismounted and picked up a piece ofthe ore, and to his amazement foundit was rich with gold. The re was aquantity of the quartz lying loose onthe ground. He gathered it into a pile,and then hurried back to the ranchto get pick and shovel with which tomine the ledge from which it came.But he could Snd no ore ledge. Hedug a shallow trench up the slope inthe hope of cross.-cutting the ore vein,

but found no trace of it. How ever, hedid find another scattered pile of richore on the surfacs.

It was a puzzling situation. Surelythe ledge from which this ore hadcome was located somewhere on theslope above. For weeks and monthshe returned at every opportunity to digbeneath the surface in quest of themother lode.His quest gradually extended overa wide area, and he found more of therich ore scattered on the surface. Hecarefully sacked up this ore and cachedit for the day when he could transportit to a market.He became convinced that therewere many rich ledges in the vicinity,and that if he could but get his pickinto the quartz as it occurred in place,he would have fabulous wealth.He staked out numerous claims sothat when the vein was found he wouldhave a right to the ore, wherever itmight be. He brought in a partnerto help with the search, and one dayas they were walking down the moun-tainside they came upon a place wherethe sand under their feet glittered withtiny specks of yellow gold. Theyscooped up the sandy loam and packedit to the nearest water where manypounds of fine gold were recoveredby pann ing. But the placer area ex-tended only over a small plot. Beyondthat they could find no trace of yellowmetal.When summer came Silverlock's

partner took his share of the gold theyhad reclaimed, and announced that hewas going to the city to enjoy his

Weavers Needle in the Superstitions.An old Indian trail follows the ar-royo toward the Needle and crossesthe mountain divide to the left ofthe pinnacle.riches. He would not work throughthe heat.But Silverlock continued his search.He had quit his ranch job, and wasdevoting every daylight hour to hisquest for the source of the rich ore.He was determined to solve the mys-tery. He could have no peace of minduntil he located the mother lode.

One day as he was swinging hispick, he stopped for a moment andas he glanced toward the plain belowhe saw a lone rider making his wayup the mountainside. When the horse-man drew near, he greeted him, andjudged that the visitor was in hiseighties, although he sat erect on awell-groomed horse.A friendly smile was on the face ofthe stranger, and he spoke excellentEnglish."Are you Silverlock?" he asked.The cowboy nodded, and wonderedhow the visitor, who obviously was anIndian, knew his name."I am Conchas," the Indian intro-duced himself," and it has been a longtime since I have been to this place. Ihad heard you were digging for goldand I came to see."The Indian then urged his pony for-ward and rode slowly from place toplace where Silverlock had been dig-ging. Sometimes he would stop and

glance toward the almost perpen-dicular pinnacles above. Silverlockwatched him with increasing curiosity.F E B R U A R Y , 1 9 5 3 23


24/44

Within an hour the Indian returnedto where Silverlock was sitting, anddismou nted. He took a pipe from hispocket and began smoking."Many years ago," he began, "whenI was young, I lived in the far northwhere the winters are long and coldand the snow came to the belly of myhorse. One year many of my peopledied from a strange illness, and I didnot like the place."Every year I saw the birds and thebuffalo go south with the sun, andwhen summer came and brought warmwinds they retur ned . I told myselfthat if it was good for the birds andbuffalo to follow the sun, it would begood for an Indian also."When I became 19 I bade mypeople goodbye and mounted my ponyand followed the sun to the south.After a long journey 1 came to thiscountry where the four peaks are lo-cated, and he pointed toward the pin-nacles a few miles away."There in a little valley where therewas good water and plenty of grasswas an Ap ache Indian village. It wasthere I found a hom e. I liked thiscountry where the sun comes in thewintertime. The Apaches became myfriends. I hun ted with their youngmen and became one of them."One day when I was a young war-rior we saw smoke signals coming fromthe low hills near the salt river to thesouth. The signals said, 'W arriorscome , help m ake big fight.""With 22 other young men fromthe tribe 1 rod e my p ony all night. Wecrossed a river and came to a trailbeing used by the Mexicans to bringore from their arrastres near the stream.There we hid in a canyon and waiteduntil the sun had passed nearly halfits cou rse. Then a mule train camealong the trail loaded with ore fol-lowed by many Mexican people."We liked to fight Mexicans for weknew the land better than they. Whenthey heard our war cries they left thetrail and fled toward the mountains.We chased them, and many werekilled. We wanted only the mu les,the guns, ponies, knives and food theyhad. Wh en we found a mule loadedwith rocks we dumped it on the groundand that is the ore you have beenfinding. Th ere are no gold ledges inthis place."Would you like to dig where thereis gold?" the Indian asked.For the moment Silverlock was dis-appointed, and angry. He thought ofthe many months of hard labor he hadbeen doing on this mountainside, andhe realized now that all this work hadbeen for naugh t. He felt resentfultoward the man who had disillusionedhim.

"He re are my tools," he said. "Youcan go dig for yourself."Slowly, the Indian turned and rodeaway. When he had departed, thepros pecto r sat for a long time. Hecould think only of the weary monthshe had put in digging for gold wherethere was no ledge of ore. Then ashe became more calm, he recalled thequestion the Indian had asked.He was sorry he had been so dis-courteous. Perhaps the Indian knewthe secret location of the Peralta mine.He mounted his horse and rode afterthe visitor. But it was too late. TheIndian had disappeared, and thoughhe continued far into the night he

never was able to catch up with him.But Silverlock had a fortune in goldalready cached awaythe ore and theplacer metal he had recove red. Fee l-ing that a further search for the Peraltamine was futile, he departed from theSuperstitions.But the story of Silverlock, added to

the many other clues, serves to giveadded credence to the report that thePeraltas did have a rich mine in theSuperstitions and that the ledgewhich they concealed so well beforetheir final departure, still awaits re-discovery somewhere in Arizona'srugged mountain range.

T R U E O R F A L S E Answers to these True or Falsequestions have all appeared inDesert Magazine at some timein the past. They are not trick questions, but reflect the au thentic history ,geography, botany, mineralogy, Indian life and lore of the desert country.Twelve to 14 correct an swers is fair, 15 to 17 is good, 18 or over is anexceptionally high score. The answ ers are on page 35.1Navajo runs generally are woven by the men in the tribe. Tru eFalse .2 Dinosaur N ational Monu ment is in Mo numen t Valley. TrueFalse3Pauline Weaver was famous as a woman stage driver on the oldButterfield Trail. Tru e . False _. .4 Piny on nuts come from an evergreen tree. T rue . False5 The Desert Lily grows from a bulb. True . False6As far as is known there were no human beings living in DeathValley before the Jayhawk er party reached there in 1849. TrueFalse.7Lake Cahuilla once inundated most of the area now known asImperial Valley in California. Tru e . False8The Smoki clan is one of the most powerful of the Hopi Indian clansin northern Arizona. True . False9The Calico Mountains where California's old Calico mining campwas located, are visible from Highw ay 66 . True . False10The desert's Kangaroo rats are most often seen in the middle of theday. Tru e . . False1 1Brigham Young personally accompanied the Mormon settlers ontheir trek to found a new settlement in wh at is now U tah. Tru eFalse12The dunes in the White Sands National Monument in New Mexicoare comp osed largely of gypsum . True . False13Canyon del Muerto is one of the scenic gorges along the Caminodel Diab lo, or Devil's Highway in southern A rizona. Tru eFalse14Morro Rock National Monument is located in New Mexico. TrueFalse15Fray Marcos de Niza found the fabled Seven Cities of Cibola.True . False16The Rio Grande River discharges more water into the Gulf ofMexico than does the Colorado River into the Gulf of California.True . False17The reservoir known as Lake Havasu is in the Colorado River.True . False18Navajo Mountain is within the reservation of the Apache Indians.True . False19The fruit of the Saguaro cactus was an important item of diet forthe Papago Indians in the pre-reservation period. TrueFalse20 The grave of Kit Carson is in Taos, New Mexico. True . .False

?A D E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


25/44

Shiprock in New Mexico on the right. Photo by John Stewart M acClary.HIGH DESERTBy GRACE PARSONS HARMONDesert Hot Springs, CaliforniaHigh desert

A little clossr to the sky!High desertWhere cleaner winds go drifting by!High desertAn altar lifting to the sun.Where Twilight lays its golden peaceWhen day is done! Q U E S TBy JOHN VICTOR SPEIRSCamarillo, CaliforniaThe gates to Heaven denied himThe entry that he sought,And his burro drowsed beside himLost in a burro thought.

St. Peter eyed with mild concernThe miner's pick and packThat covered, shoulders to his stern.The burro's patient back.

Then gently spoke, "I greet thee, friend;"But hast thee not been told?"Thy lifetime quest is at an end"Ye need not search for gold."The lips moved in the bearded mask.A wistful smile shone through."It's not to search for gold we ask"Permission, sir, of you."Could we prospect the hills unmined."And roam the Golden Land."My burro friend and I might find"A bit of desert sand."St. Peter swung the gates that barThe kingdom of the blest.For wise St. Peter knew there areSome souls ordained to quest.

By JEANNETTE HELM SANDSanta Ana, CaliforniaThe desert lies before her.The desert lies behind;Her anchor's deep in rockbedBut she doesn't seem to mind.Fast her keel and forefootIn a sea with ne'er a roll.She hasn't got a captainAnd she hasn't got a goal.Like an old tramp freighterA' lumpin' through the foam.Forty miles from nowhereAnd forty miles from home.She's purple in the sunsetRust red at dawn's first light;There is notking there but cactus.And sand and dried mesquite;Yet, somehow, I've got the notionOne day she'll pull her freightAnd sail the desert oceanPlumb towards the Golden Gate.

t StateBy TANYA SOUTHHerein I dwell. My Kingdom stillIs vested in my soul and will.None other do 1 have, nor can .

This is the state of Man:That as he in his heart remains.So he attains.

RETURN AT DESERT TWILIGHTBy ELSIE W. CISLERSan Diego, CaliforniaThe gentle evening blow brings sighsFrom swaying limbs of Smoketree ghosts:I search the moonlit wash for fuelTo light dark hours 'mid hidden hosts.

The mistletoe's dark secret swings:It 'folds the linnet's purple breast;Oh, trusting head thrust 'neath your wing,What cares can trouble now your rest?What creatures sleep in yon saltbush.That gives protection 'til the dawn;Each little beating heart held closeTo Nature's breast of sand still warm?Oh. may the morning star's faint lightRenew the faith of quail and hare:Glad symphony of daybreak songFind busy morning gleanings there!

W HA T THE* RA*INDROPS LENTBy PAUL WILHELMThousand Palms, CaliforniaUpon the roof the dark night throughThe raindrops beat a soft tattoo,In every room a liquid note.Beneath each eave a castle moat.All through the murmurous desert nightInto the depths of cobalt dawnO glorious, exotic light!We who had lain so sound in sleep.Now woke to scurrying sounds of feetOn redwood rafters, woke to hearA rainy autumn drip and beatCrisp summer leaves in heavy grass.And still the raindrops soft tattooA wisp of soundand then there grewNothing at firstbut one faint scentOf sweet sage that the raindrops lent!

F E B R U A R Y , 1 9 5 3 25


26/44

Tonopah. Nevada . . .Exhaustive exploration work is nowbeing conducted jointly by SummitKing Mines, Ltd., and the HomestakeMining Company, to determine thedepth of a vein discovered severalmonths ago at the end of a 900 footcrosscut. This work, at the SummitKing mine just north of Tonopah, isgoing ahead with confidence of theoperators that they will be able toblock out a considerable body of good

grade ore.Tonopah Times-Bonanza. Santa Fe, New Mexico . . .A recent decision of the Office ofDefense Mobilization will result in theopening of a big mica mining industryin New Mexico according to AllenWhite of the Petaca Minerals corpora-tion. Until recently the mica used inelectronic devices came almost entirelyfrom India, White said, on the theorythat domestic mica was of inferiorquality. Under a reversal of this de-cision New Mexico's great reserve ofthis mineral may open the way for amillion dollar mining industry. Mica,along with columbite, tantalite, beryl,monazite and samarskite, which arefound with it, are needed in the pro-duction of steel for jet motors, it wasstated.The New Mexican. Hiko, Nevada . . .Employing 158 men, the BlackRock Mining company is handling650 tons of low grade tungsten daily,according to Eddie Woods. The com-pany recently applied to the NevadaColorado River commission for 15,-000,000 kilowatt hours of electricalenergy annually from Hoover dam.With this power, Woods said opera-tions could be stepped up to 2150tons a day. The commission advisedWoods that no firm power is availablefrom the dam within Nevada's allot-ment.Pioche Record. Denver, Colorado . . .Many of the lead and zinc minesin the Rocky Mountain region areclosing down because they cannotcompete with the importations ofmetal from foreign countries, accord-ing to Robert S. Palmer, executivedirector of the Colorado Mining asso-ciation. Palmer declared that 62 per-cent of the zinc and lead mines in theUnited States cannot produce at thecurrent prices, which are 13'/2 centsfor lead and 12V6 cents for zinc.Salt Lake Tribune.

fl)hkf-Blanding, Utah . . .

Plans are being made by the Vana-dium Corporation of America to in-vest $1,500,000 in a uranium mill atHite, according to an unconfirmed re-port given by an official of the com-pany.Salt Lake Tribune.Yerington, Nevada . . .According to the report of A. E.Millar, general manager of Anaconda,about one-fourth of the 10-milliontons of overburden has been removedat the Yerington copper site. It isestimated that when the companyreaches full production it will mine11.000 tons of ore daily, with a yieldof 60 million pounds of metal annu-ally.The Humboldt Star.Gabbs, Nevada . . .One of the richest tungsten strikesin recent years is reported to havebeen made by J. H. (Hank) Baxter.He found the outcrop while prospect-ing with a black lamp at night. Pro-jecting his light from a distance of 30feet, the protrusion gleamed like asolid white sheet. The ore assayed 15percent tungsten, and a wheelbarrowload is worth $175. It is estimatedthere is between $70,000 and $75,000worth of ore in sight, and if the de-posit should have depth it could beworth a huge fortune. Baxter is anelectrician who turned to prospectingbecause he liked it.The HumboldtStar.Goldfield, Nevada . . .After a search which continued over12 years, Harry Wiley and Jack Whit-aker have located substantial depositsof tungsten in the Goldpoint district.Nineteen veins have been brought inwith an average width of 16 feet, ac-cording to Whitaker. Organized as theNevada Mining company, Whitakerand Wiley are negotiating for the pur-chase of State Line mill, PiocheRecord.Salt Lake City, Utah . . .Search for germanium, the $35O-a-pound metallic element which is usedin electronics, has now been extendedto the coal fields as a result of the dis-closure that it often occurs in smallquantities in the bottom three inchesof coal seams. Previously it had beenknown to be associated only with zincand copper ores.Salt Lake Tribune.

Monticello, Utah . . .Through the efforts of the AtomicEnergy Commission a plan has beenperfected which makes it possible foruranium prospectors and miners tooperate on public lands which arecovered by oil and gas leases. Underthe program announced in Decemberby Sheldon P. Wimpfen, manager ofoperations for the AEC at GrandJunction, Colorado, prospectors de-siring to go on oil-lease lands may doso after entering into a lease agree-ment with the AEC representing thefederal government. Solution of theconflict between oil lessees and ura-nium miners is expected to encouragethe search for and production of ura-nium.The San Juan Record.

San Francisco, California . . .Two new bulletins recently havebeen issued by the California Divisionof Mines, located in the Ferry build-ing here. One is Bulletin 163 titledGypsum in California. It is the firsttreatise covering the entire history ofthe industry in the state, its geologicoccurrence, mining, processing andmarketing. The 150-page book with50 plates and maps may be purchasedfor $1.85 plus tax. The other bulle-tin. No. 162, deals with the Geologyof the Sebastopol Quadrangle in Cali-fornia. Tonopah, Nevada . . .One of the richest gold-silver orestrikes in recent years is being devel-oped at the Mohawk mine in the SilverPeak district, according to Mervin J.Gallagher, Nevada mine inspector. Thevein has been exposed several hun-dred feet by drifts.The Mining Rec-cord. Dr. Franz Pick, publisher of Pick'sWorld Currency reports, is reportedto have predicted that the official priceof gold will be increased by 50 per-cent during 1953. "Gold mining willagain become profitable," he said.

Max J. Kennard, former chief op-erating engineer for Combined MetalsProduction company, has been ap-pointed general manager of PiocheManganese operations at Pioche, Ne-vada, it was announced in December.K. K. Hood took Kennard's place withCombined Metals. Venture capital is needed by themining industry, former President Her-bert Hoover told the recent NorthwestEngineering Centennial in Portland.Oregon. During 20 years, he pointedout, the 3000 operating non-ferrousmetal mines in the Rocky Mountainstates have been reduced to only alittle over 1000.

26 DESERT MAGAZINE


27/44

Petrified landscape found in Colorado by Harley S. May bury.

He Follows Ghost Town Trails . . .Genoa, NevadaDesert:I was very interested in Edna Price's"Life on the Desert" story in the De-cember issue of Desert Magazine. I

met Bill and Eidna Price at Lake Ta-hoe many years ago and spent severalhours with them one night when

Documents

195302 Desert Magazine 1953 February