195908 Desert Magazine 1959 August

8/14/2019 195908 Desert Magazine 1959 August

1/44


2/44

; ' J : S . . . - !5 t i+ *

VERSEFOR

AUGUST

TheSilent Beauty

By L. STANLEY CHENEYSan Diego, California

There is a silence:an unseen, unknown, yet ever livingsilenceOf the desert.It stealthily movesoiji the feet of fantasy across thevastnessOf the barren land.And there is sadness:

an unconcerned, indifferent, strangescrt of sadness: entwined with thesilence and the vastnessOf the barren land.Yet, with the silence and the vastnessand the sadnessthere is beautyan untamed, foreign, naked beauty.And as I, knowing my smallness,stand alone on these innumerablesands that comprise the desertI am captured by the beauty,and I listen, am enthralled, endowedwcan conceive in Man.th that happiness that only Nature

a s *


3/44

m of tk O u t d o o r S o u t h w e s tAUGUST, 1959 Number 8

COVER: Azure Fal l s a t HavasuPhoto by STEWART CASSIDYREMINISCENCES: Ol d R andsburg

By HARRISON DOYLENEW MEXICO PHOTOS: Sangre de Cri s to Count ry

By JOSEF MUENCHRECREATION: The Colorado RiverBy NELL MURBARGERNATURE TRIP: Baja CaliforniaBy EDMUND C. JAEGEREXPERIENCE: Crossing The Lit t le Colorado

By BILLIE WILLIAMS YOSTHIGH COUNTRY: The Bucket BrigadeBy ROBERT O. GREENAWALTINDIANS: Faces a t the Ceremonia l

By ANDRE DE DIENESTRAILER LIFE: Bui ld a Water Tank

By MARY HILLINDIAN LORE: C at ' s C rad l e

By HARRY JAMESGEM FIELDS: Hoove r Dam Area

By C. EARL NAPIERBACK COVER: Desert Big Horn Sheep

Photo by MARVIN F. WARD al so

Po em of the Mo nth: 2 Driving Tips: 16Photo Hints: 18 Re ad ers ' Letters: 27Sou thwe st Trav el: 28, 29 Books: 30

Desert Primer: 32 Ha rd Rock Shorty: 33Des ert Qu iz: 33 N ew s Briefs: 34

Desert Au thors : 39 Editorial: 42Photo of the Month: 43

T T H E C O V E R . . .. . . In the language of the Indians who l ive in ann-blu e." Because the water in the creek flowing

cover all bear the name Havasu. And to makeprefix to their t ribal name Havasu pai . Pho -

the University of Arizona . He took the cover

U G U S T , 1 9 5 9

Publ i sher ' s Notes For the Indians of the Southwest, the month of Augustis the high point of their dances and ceremon ies. Thus ,Desert Magazine's August issue emphasizes the Indians.Helping us with our task is one of Hollywood's topfashion photographers, Andre de Dienes, who supplied thefascinating Indian face-studies that appear on page 22 and23 (in the center of the magazine).The versatility of de Dienes is evident, but how came

it to pass that a Hollywood craftsman also ranks as amaster photograp her of Indians? In his own words, deDienes explains:"When I was a child in Hungary, I read much aboutthe Wild West. Some years ago when I first came to theUnited States I took time off between my first two assign-ments (photographing new cars in Detroit and movie starsin Hollywood) to visit Acoma, New Mexico."The 14-mile road to the pueblo was narrow and sandy,and I decided against driving it. So I left my car at thehighway junction and started off afoot for the village. Igot there at dusk."Of course there were no white people living in thevillage, and no accommodations for tourists. The IndianGovernor very graciously offered me a bed in his homein fact, it was his bed. Th e Gove rnor and his parents,wife, sons and their wives and a large number of smallchildren and I had a strange (to me) kind of stew fordinner, then the children performed Indian dances whiletheir elders chanted. This went on for hours, and myintroduction to the American Indian made a lasting impres-sion on me. I returned to New Mexico year after year tophotograph Indians."Although glamour photography is much more lucra-tive, my fascination with the Indians has never lessened,and if I were commissioned to spend several months amongthem to take photographs, I would happily close my Holly-wood studio and trade my comfortable life for the ruggedlife of the desert. Indians are an inexhaustible source ofinspiration for artists." CHARLES E. SHELTONPublisherThe Desert Magazine, founded in 1937 by Randall Henderson, ispublished monthly by Desert Magazine, Inc., Palm Desert, California.

Re-entered as second class matte r Ju ly 17, 1948, at the postoffice atPalm Desert, California, under the Act of March 3, 1879. Title regis-tered No. 358865 in U. S. Patent Office, and contents copyrighted 1959by Desert Magazine, Inc. Permission to reproduce contents must besecured from the editor in writing.CHARLES E. SHELTON, PublisherEUGENE L. CONROTTO, EditorRANDALL HENDERSON, Advisory EditorEVONNE RIDDELL, Circulation Manager

Address all editorial and circulation correspondence to Desert Mag-azine, Palm Desert, California.Address all advertising correspondence to Clyde A. Osburn, Directorof Advertising, Suite 31S, 7046 Hollywood Blvd., Los Angeles 28, Calif.Unsolicited manuscripts and photographs submitted cannot be re-turn ed or acknowledged unless full retu rn postage is enclosed. DesertMagazine assumes no responsibility for damage or loss of manuscriptsor photo grap hs although due care will be exercised. Subscribe rs shouldsend notice of change of address by the first of the month precedingissue.

SUBSCRIBE TO

. . . or let us send it to a friend(a magazine subscript ion is a thoughtful gif t)

One Year~$4 Q Two Yea rs-$7 Three Yea rs-$ 10.50(Canadian subscriptions 25c extra, foreign 50c extra per year)

SEND DESERT MAGAZINE TO:(please print)

(mailing address)(city, state)

If this is a gif t , indicate how gift card should be signed:Mail this inform ation and your remittance to: Desert Magazine,Palm Desert, California.

3


4/44

P a r t O n e R A N D S B U R G 1 8 9 6 - 1 9 0 1B y H A R R I S O N D O Y L E

THE FIRST thing I learned fromthe other kids in the Mojave Des-ert Mining Camp of Randsburgin 1896 was that so long as there wereno white crystals of nitroglycerin onthe outside of dynamite sticks, youcould light them in your hand andthey would burn like railroad flares.Next: that I could apparently be-come rich selling whiskey bottles, run-ning errands for the girls back of thesaloons, and exploring for coins thatfell through the cracks between theboards on the walks in front of thestores and saloons.A decade before my Randsburg

days, Dad had settled the family ona ranch in Santa Monica. From therehe went to each new gold rushDar-win, Calico and the various Arizona"excitements"during the '80s and' 9 0 s .I particularly remember the timeearly in '96 when he returned fromCalico and exclaimed to Mother,"Mollie, they've just made a greatstr ike between Kramer and Mojave.I'm getting in on the ground floor.""This time we're all going withyou," mother replied."But Randsburg is a raw camp,Mo llie," Dad said emphatically. "Noaccomm odations. I t will be too roughon you and the children."

Mother was just as emphatic. Therewas quite an argum ent. I rememb erher telling him, "I was born at thefoot of Mt. Shasta, in Indian territory.My nurse was Captain Jack's ModocSquaw. I was with you in Tom bstonewhen the Earps and Clantons had itout. Do you think Randsburg couldbe as rough as that buckboard tripwe made into Benson to escape theApache Kid?"Dad capitulated. "You win," hesaid.That 's how wemy parents , twosisters, a younger brother, and myselffound ourselves in Randsburg.

For two $20 gold pieces Dadbought a nondescript dugout in theside of the gulch about a block behind"Main Street." Facing Main, even atthis early date, were three saloons,an assay office, the St. Elmo Hoteland the Elite Dan ce Hall. Betweenour dugout and the back of the Elitewas the canvas and tar-paper red-light"row." And between us and the St.Elmo stood the latter 's board-and-bat-ten outhouseone end for the women,the other for the men.Th e Elite was a board -on-en d affair,tinder dry. It had a tinny piano , dancefloor and sm all stage. The song s ofthe day floated over the warm cleardesert air to us those first summer

evenings: "Little Annie Rooney,""After the Ball," "Bicycle Built forT w o , " "Rainbarrel," and others .We lived several months in the dug-out while Dad prospected. Ou r tableand chairs were made of dynamiteboxes; our stove, from two five galloncoal oil cans riveted together. M at-tresses were of striped ticking, filledwith greasewood tops. Dad staked aclaim back of the Yellow Aster whichhe called the "Lillie May" after myeldest sister.I loved to watch the dusty six horseor mule jerk-line teams tugging oreto the new Kenyon Mill, or haulingfreight into town from the railroad atKramer, on the Santa Fe. A jerk onthe line to the lead animals, and ashouted "Gee!" would turn them right;a "H aw " and a jerk, left. Sometimesloads of greasewood roots, the town'sonly firewood, would pass up the gulchin front of the dugout.I used to wander barefoot into theSt. Elmo, to look at the fist-sized"nugget" and other mineral specimenson the counter, and to run errandsfor the hotel clerk.With no water in town except thelittle we had to drink, there was noway to save Main Street when theinevitable fire broke out.As soon as the ashes cooled, I was

DESERT MAGAZINE


5/44

hu ma n natu re fast. Insteadf "gold," I struck a glob of silveroins melted together in what was leftf the cash drawer, and in the excite-ent ran a nail through my bare foot.There was no doctor in town, soDad put my foot in a pail of turpen-tine for a couple of hours "to kill thelock-jaw."After the fire we moved into largerquarters up the hill. We had threerooms now, and some furniture fromthe Santa Monica ranch.In 1897 there were over 5000 peo-ple in the boom ing town. The newdrug store purveyed the simple rem-edies of the day. Fo r la grippe an dsore throats we kids got a sour lem-onade, or a spoonful of sugar, wetwith coal oil or whiskey; for a purga-tive, cascara bark, calomel, salts, orcastor oil; for bruises, wizard oil orarnica. Mainly because of its com -plete lack of sanitation, the town hadone epidemic after another"brainfever" (probably some form of men-ingitis), smallpox, chickenpox, mumps,measles.When I sold some bottles, or foundcoins under the boardwalk, I'd repairto the drug store and buy hard candieswhich came in little green-and-whitestriped bags, or treat some of the otherkids to a licorice root, or a sarsaparillaor cream soda bottle with their push-in wire sealing caps.At that time gold and silver feverthrobbed through the Southwest. Talkon the streets invariably turned to theMother Lode, Virginia City, Panamint ,Vanderbilt, Ballarat, and other bo-nanzas .Besides the Yellow Aster, othermines working close by town werethe Big Butte, Little Butte and Ken-

yon. Me n came in every day fromthe Stringer District (later to becomethe great tungsten producer), withpokes of gold dust. They also camefrom the placers below town, whichthey worked with dry washers, andfrom the Goler placers across the val-ley.The saloons always interested me.I liked the cool sawdust smell thatcame up from the cellars where theykept the kegs of beer and the ice. Thesaloons looked much like they do to-day on television except then they allhad shield-like signs on each side ofthe bat-wing doors advertising thelikes of "Wieland's Beer" and "Mayer& Zoblein." The saloons and b arbershops all had poker tables in the rear,and really woke up on paydays. Floorswere covered with sawdust, and brass

machine. Ther e was always a littlestrawberry left over for me.A favorite sport of the men whohung around the saloon fronts was to"electrify" the canvas water bags hang-ing in the shade. A long-handled tindipper touched to the water produceda man-sized shock, pretty rough ona barefo oted kid . I early learned tostand on a dry board when drinking.In 1898 Dad brought out his booksfrom Santa Monica, and the towns-people, starved for reading material,persuaded him to start a library. Therewere sets of Dickens, Scott, FenimoreCooper, Hugo, Dumas, Balzac, Vol-taire, DeMaupassant and many otherssome 2000 volumes. Dad also hadan autographed set of the works ofA. Conan Doyle, a distant cousin.A short time after the library was

LOO KIN G EAST O N BUTTE STREET, RANDS BURG , IN FEB. , 189 7. PHO TO COURTESY KERN MUS EUM .

cuspidors were everywhere. Most ofthe games were straight. One time Isaw a group of miners tar and feathera "shark" for cheating.Girls "worked" the men in thelarger saloons for drinks, on whichthey got a "cut," generally a pokerchip, which they could cash at thebars . Most of these "floozies" werefat and frowzy.When I was 111 became the print-er's devil at the Randsburg Miner. Istraightened out type, swept the floorsand delivered the pape rs. I worked

awhile at Seebold's Meat Market, thenat Miller's Drug Store across the cor-ner from W ells-Fargo. I liked Miller'sbest because of the bobbing milkshake

opened a virulent outbreak of small-pox occurred. Some books were re-turned to the shelves from smallpoxinfested homes before the disease wasid en tifie d, a n d t h e " C o m m i t t e e "burned Dad's library to "stop the epi-demic." The only books saved werethe Family Bible, and an old set ofShakespeare which my elder sisterhad hidden out .We paid two-bits for a five-galloncan of water. Th e water man stucka siphon hose in the top of a barrelon his wagon, sucked on it until the

water came, then filled the cans.Before water was piped into thetown from Mesquite Springs it camemostly from Cuddeback Wells nearA U G U S T , 1 9 5 9


6/44

Atolia on the desert flats. This waterwas full of alkali, and we mixed oat-meal with it to kill the taste. TheYellow Aster piped water up fromwells at Garlock, about eight milesaway. They built an immense stampmill which soon had a big tailingspond below it, but we kids couldnot swim in it because the mill oreswere treated with cyanide.

About a dozen of us were enrolledin the little one-room school at thehead of Fiddler's Gulch. For amuse-ment during recess the boys dug tun-nels in the side of the wash, until onelad was suffocated in a cave-in. I wassweet on a little girl named NellieLackey. One of her playmates wasViola McCann. Viola was forevergetting into trouble with the teacher,and being switched. One day Violacame to school with cardboard underher stockings and elsewhere for pro-tection. The sharp noise the teacher'swhip made when she started in onViola made the kids laugh. The teach-er released Viola, then went outsideand cried.Sometimes the boys entertainedthemselves by placing revolver shells

between two rocks and striking thetop rock with another, or by throwingabandoned dynamite and caps downold shafts trying to make them ex-plode. One day one of the boys helda blasting cap in his hand while an-other lighted it. One of them lost twofingers, the other an eye.The one thing I hated to see hap-pen was the older boys catch a dog,tie a tin can on his tail, and smearhis rump with turpentine. The unfor-tunate canine would bang around un-der the boardwalk, yelping with pain.My hero was a boy named TommyAnderson, about four years my senior.He was a "powder monkey"distrib-uted dynamite to the miners in the

eerie shadows of the flickering candlesin the Yellow Aster's undergroundworkings. I would have given an armto have been in his shoes, except thatrumor had it there were "hydrophobiaskunks" up under the Glory Hole atthe back end of the Trilby Tunnel. Iwanted no part of them.

In those early days in Randsburg Inever doubted any of the tales thatfloated around for little boys to hear.Like that of the existence of an ani-mal the miners referred to as a "SideHill Goudger," which, it was said, hadshort legs on one side so it could walklevel around the hillsides. Also, I wassure of the existence of "Tommy-knockers," a sort of gremlin that in-habited mines in which men had beenkilled.

Louie Stoll, the saloonkeeper, sentme under the walk one day to retrievea gold piece he had lost. I went underin front of the Orpheum Dance Hall,and crawled back to Louie's, aboutthree hundred feet. While I was in-dustriously pawing about through therubbish, I heard shouts and the wild

THE AUTHOR'S FAMILY IN 1901. STANDING,FROM LEFT: ULLIE MAY COOPER AND HAZELDAVIES, SISTERS; FRANK M. DOYLE AND MARYS. DOYLE, PARENTS. SEATED: LIEUT. COL. R. N.DOYLE, GRANDFATHER, WHO HAD BEEN GEN-ERAL SUPERINTENDENT OF CONSTRUCTION FORTHE ATLANTIC AND PACIFIC RAILROAD; THEAUTHOR, ABOUT 12 YEARS OF AGE; ROBERT N.DOYLE, BROTHER, NOW OF WENDEN, ARIZONA;AND ELIZABETH JANE SWEETMAN, GRAND-MOTHER, WHO CAME WEST IN COVERED WAG-ON . TWO YOUNGER BROTHERS NOT PICTURED.

again, and I'll never forget the ex-pression on the man's face when hespied me."Hell!" he shouted. "There's a foolkid in here!"He unceremoniously yanked me outand proceeded to push the box ofdynamite farther under the barbershop.I ran on down to the front ofAsher's Store while boards and bar-ber chairs rained down from wherethey had blasted the firebreak. Partof a piano came down about a hun-dred feet from where I had stoppedto get my breath. It went "bong!"when it hit the ground, and a womanlaughed hysterically.At Asher's, people were puttingfurniture into his supposedly fireproofstore. The building was of stone, withsteel shutters and a corrugated ironroof.I heard Mr. Asher say, "I'll put mywife in there, I'm so sure it's fire-proof!"Luckily, wiser heads prevailed, andMrs. Asher was deported elsewhere,but a new piano, a lot of groceriesand many valuables went up in smokeas Asher's building failed him.

The only whipping Dad ever gaveme was over a $20 goldback I foundone day in some trash. EdmundYoung, the postmaster's son, and Iwent down to Illingsworth's Store andloaded up with fancy candies andother gewgaws.When I got home, Dad was waiting

clanging of a triangle. I smelled smoke,and saw a red flicker near the Or-pheum. The town was on fireforthe third timeand I was trapped.I started frantically looking for aplace to exit, but the planks over mewere heavily spiked. I scrambled asfar as the front of Tenney's BarberShop where someone pried up a plankand shoved a box of dynamite downalongside me. It was fused. I yelled

for me with a board. "There's onething I won't stand for in this family,and that's a thief!" he cried as he be-gan laying it on.About the third whack Motherscreamed from the next room, "Frank,stop it! I've found the 20 where I hidit in a shoe!"Dad threw the board out the dooras far as he could. He looked at mea long moment, then said quietly, "I'll6 DESERT MAGAZINE


7/44

And he never did.Randsburg had its "crazes," too.around the turn of the century. Thelittle cardboard pictures came in Ab-bot Kinney's Sweet Caporal "Cigareet"(we called them "coffin nails") pack-ages. This art was of reigning act-resses and what we would call todaybeauty queens. The boys would flipthe pictures to a line, and the one whocame closest to the mark would collectall the pictures. Most of the mensmoked Bull Durham or Duke's Mix-ture, rolled their own in brown paper,or else chewed Star or Horseshoe plugcut tobacco.

My daily job at home was to fillthe coal oil lamps, clean the chim-

neys, carry water, and grind Arbuckle'scoffee in the little mill on the wall.With Arbuckle coupons you couldget an assortment of premiumsevena piano if you collected enough. Inthe years we were in Randsburg, Iswear I ground enough coffee to outfita symphony orchestra.For entertainment the townspeoplewatched the stagecoach come and go.The green strong box rode under thefront seat in care of the Wells-FargoMessenger and his sawed-off shotgun.As far as I can remember there neverwas a holdup of any sort, althoughin one month alone there was a mil-lion dollar "cleanup" sent out fromthe Yellow Aster Mill to the SanFrancisco Mint.

RANDSBURG IS "WESTERN," BUT NOT "WILD."

Some of the men in town wouldput on amateur minstrel shows at theMiner's Union Hall, until it burneddown in the second fire. The "QuakerDoctors," a sort of small travelingcarnival, came each year, lit up bynewfangled gasoline flares. After thesecond fire the business district builtup along Butte Avenue, detouring thehoist headframe over a deep shaft, inthe middle of the street in front ofthe Orpheum.

On the Fourth of July there wasalways plenty of excitement. Hardrock miners came from all over thecountry to the drilling contests. Theminers, many of them Cornishmen("Cousin Jacks") from the YellowAster, tied four inch fuses to sticksof dynamite, lit them and threw theminto the air to explode overhead. Onone Fourth a miner lost an arm, andthe practice was discontinued thenand there. The kids ran the three-legged race, the women the spoonrace. Grown folks tried to catch thegreased pig, or climb the greased pole.Boys my age always entered the pie,or soda cracker eating contest. Inthe cracker contest, the first kid whocould whistle after eating the allottednumber of crackers, won.

The miners' wives never used any-thing for beautification except perhapsa little face powder. A few more dar-ing souls used a hint of rouge andtook the chance of being labeled"fast." Everyone in town knew thefloozies by the way they dressed. Theywore hats instead of fascinators. Manywere "embryo" actresses, havingstarted in that profession and failed.As I look back I think the funniestevent that transpired in my Randsburgepisode took place on a journey Imade with my Grandmother Sweet-man in the winter of 1898.

As we boarded the stagecoach toMojave she gave me a newspaper-wrapped package. There being noroom inside the vehicle, I was put up

between the driver and the shotgunmessenger. A fierce north wind wasblowing, and I was numb with coldby the time we reached Kane Springs.The wind had completely ripped thewrapping off the parcel I was carry-ing. I disembarked from the stage ina barrage of laughter, tightly claspingGrandmother's glistening white chinachamberpot.I learned a great many things inRandsburg, chief of which was to siftthe gold from the gilt; the real fromthe tinsel in life. And the gift hasstood me in good stead throughout along, and, I hope, useful life. In itsway I'm sure life in a raw miningcamp was no worse than what somekids go through today with their voo-doo dances, TV blood baths, and hor-ror movies. I saw the drab uncolorfulreal day - to - day West; today, theyoungsters see the dressed-up versionwhich came in with Tom Mix movies.I instinctively realized then thatfolks changed the minute they gotaway from "civilization." They wouldlet down the bars and do things in amining camp they would never dreamof doing at home.It came time for Dad to leave.Rumor had it the railroad was comingin as far as Johannesburg, over thehill from Randsburg. Dad boughtinto a business in Needles on the Col-orado River "a very likely miningcountry."END

C O M I N Gi n D e s e r t M a g a z i n e

Part II of HarrisonDoyle's "A Boy'sEyeview of the WildWest"his 1901 ex-periences in the "railroad andriver" town of Needles, California.

A U G U S T , 1 9 59


8/44

S A N G R E D E C R I S T O

,-A

imiiiiiiiiifi

SANTO TOMAS DEL RIO DE IAS TRAMPAS-THE 350-YEAR-OLD CHURCH SERVING THE SANGRE DE CRISTO MOUNTAIN VILLAGE OF LAS TRAMPAS.

ii lThree hundred yea rs van ish every-thing in these beautiful mountainsseems to be of an earlier vintagethesun-scoured buildings, the corrals, thepastoral econom y, the peop le. W henthe Penitente villages were young,Spain was the center of the earth andthe New World its brightest jewel. TheSangre de Cristo Mountains run northand east from Santa Fe to Colorado.

/ ' :

#

PHOTOGRAPHS BYJOSEf MUENCH

GEORGE LOPEZ IS A SIXTH GENERATION WOOD CAR-VER-ONE OF THE MOST FAMOUS OF ALL "SANTEROS."LOPEZ LIVES IN CORDOVA, A QUAINT SPANISH-AMERICAN VILLAGE IN THE PENITENTE COUNTRY.


9/44

CROSS AT TRUCHAS (RIGHT) IS ONE OFMANY SEEN IN LAND OF THE PENITENTES.

**"


10/44

A HJ

Water sports, fishing, lakeshore camping, all-year "enjoyabil ity"these are the lures of the Lower Colorado's glimmering chain of man-made lakes.

By NELL MURBARGER

L OOPING ACROSS the gray breastof the desert from the GrandCanyon to the Gulf of Californiais a sparkling necklace of diamond-bright lakes and silver river. Wh atan anomaly that here in the heart ofthis otherwise driest land should bethe greatest freshwater playground inthe entire West, and that to theseshores each year should come vaca-tionists by hundreds of thousandsfrom every state in the union, eachseeking the peace and relaxation af-forded by quiet hills and calm bluewater.So thoroughly have the man-madelakes of the Lower Colorado Riverintegrated themselves in our conscious-ness we now regard them as an indis-pensable part of our Southwesternscenea part that each season con-tributes more abundantly to the pleas-ure of Southwest living.Fortunately, the bounty of this great

water wonderland is available to allcomers, the cost of a vacation on theseshores being wholly contingent on in-dividual circumstances. Luxury ac-commodations rate luxury pricesorthe entire cost of a never-to-be-for-gotten week may be held to a tankfulof gasoline, a quarter's worth of fish-hooks, and box of groceries!During the past two-dozen years Ihave camped along the Lower Colo-rado on scores of occasions, and haveyet to see real proof that the amountof money spent on a vacation has anydirect bearing on the amount of en-joyment reaped. As a matter of fact,one of the most thoroughly happy va-cationing families I have ever knownwas camped in a ragged old tent setin the shade of a tamarisk tree alongthe river north of Topock, Arizona.The group included several adults anda flock of youngsters, and therewasn't a daylight moment when some-

one around that camp wasn't laugh-ing!Every morning found each memberof the family equipped with a crookedwillow pole and out fishing the shal-lows for "pan fish;" every afternoonthe entire group donned makeshiftbathing suits and spent a couple ofhours frolicking in the river. Later,they played handball and ran footraces; and each evening, after the day'scatch had been cooked and eaten, andevery bite savored, the family gatheredaround a driftwood campfire and sangsongs, told stories, and discussed thepleasure of the day.From what I saw of that group I'msure not one of its members wouldhave changed places with the wealthi-est man on the riverwhich isn't tosay that this "wealthiest man" wasn'tenjoying himself equally well, in hisown way.It is impossible to know how many

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


11/44

persons spend all or part of theirannual vacation along the Coloradoand its chain of lakes. Th e only clueto that figure, which itself is necessarilyincomplete, is found in records of LakeMead National Recreation Area, em-bracing Lakes Mead and Mohave,and extending for 185 miles alongthe river.During 1958, according to Merdith

B . Ingham, chief park naturalist, thissection of the river was host to 3,-190,580 vacationers , representing thesecond largest number accommodatedby any National Park area in the en-tire United States. During the 14years since close of World War IIthe Lake Mead-Lake Mohave areahas been visited by some 30,000,000vacationers. When it is consideredthat these totals include no account-ing of the hundreds of thousands ofpersons who annually utilize recrea-tion facilities along the shores of LakeHavasu and the remaining 200 milesof r iver between Parker, Arizona, andth e Gulf, i t becomes apparent thatthe Lower Colorado shoreline is notfar from being the top in fresh-watervacation areas of the nation.Better Fishing

Sometimes, I suspect, we're too in-clined to carry a torch for the so-called"good old days" when fish and gamewere allegedly mo re plentiful. Tru this , back in those lamented "good days"this section of the Colorado River wasso full of silt that about the onlyspecies of fish that could exist in itwere s ticklebacks, bonytail , and carp,none of which is renowned as eithera game fish or food fish.

Today, due to efforts of the U.S.Fish and Wildlife Service, and the fishand game departments of Arizona,Nevada and California, the LowerColorado provides some of the finestfresh-water game fishing in the entireUnited S tates and Canada"big ones"being so plentiful that the season isopen 24 hours a day, 365 days a year!Here largemouth bass, rainbow troutand channel catfish grow to phenom-enal sizes, while perch, crappies, andbluegill do their part in assuring fishaplenty for everyone, regardless ofmeager equipment or previous inex-perience.

Cold Water AreaLargest and best of the rainbowsare taken in the 20-mile stretch ofcold water (55-60 degrees F.) belowLake Mead, and for another 20 milesin the cold, clear water below LakeMoh ave. (Wh en I was at BullheadCity, Arizona, in April, this year, oneof the local men caught a 29-inchrainbow weighing 14 pounds, and Iwas told that 10-pound rainbows are

comm on there .) Choicest bass fishingis in the quiet, warmer water immedi-ately above each of the dams.Full information concerning luresand baits most successful in taking thevarious species, as well as tackle andfishing licenses, may be had at mostof the boat landings and in sportinggoods stores in all larger towns in thevicinity of the river.SafetyMotor boats, with or without guides,may be rented at many of the publiclandings, and privately - owned boatsmay be launched on any of the lakeswithout a permit. In the interest ofsafety on the Lower Colorado and itslakes, the U.S. Coast Guard urges thatcertain simple precautions be observedin boating, one of the most importantbeing that every boat carry a usablelife preserver or life jacket for everypassenger aboard, and that it be wornor kept available for instant use. One

of the cardinal rules of the lakes isthat in the advent of a sudden severewind, boatmen should immediatelyhead for the nearest land and go ashoreuntil the blow has subsided. Evengales of brief duration, when sweepingthe length of a 60-mile lake, soonroughen the surface of the water suffi-ciently to swamp a small craft, especi-ally if heavily laden . As all the lakesare relatively narrow it rarely takes

more than a few minutes for a boatto gain the safety of the nearest shore-lineand as the Park Service pointsout, "The life you save will be yourown!"Each vacationer must determine forhimself which of the several lakes ofthe Lower Colorado or which con-necting length of river has most tooffer as a potential vacation site.

Nearly all the improved campgrounds,public boat landings and resort con-cessions are accessible over good roadsof paved or graveled surface. Someof the campgrounds and trailer parksafford better shade and more conveni-ences than others; some have a morescenic setting. Every landing andlodge from Temple Bar to the Gulfoffers fishing and swimming, and somehave attractions such as horsebackriding, square dancing, water skiing,boat racing, skin diving, river andlake tours; shuffleboard, horseshoe,tennis and croquet courts; agate andfossil fields; hunting for ducks, geese,doves, quail and pheasanteven bull-frog fishing!

CampgroundsFree public campgrounds on LakeMead and Lake Mohave are main-tained by the National Park Serviceon a first-come-first-served basis andare open to both tenters and trailer-

MEX ICO %A U G U S T , 1 9 5 9 11


12/44

< ? : ;

ists with, generally, a 90-day use limit.Shade, water, fireplaces, tables an dmodern restrooms ar e provided in thecampground at Boulder Beach, in Ne-vada the only one of these sevencamps where heavy usage now makesnecessary a 15-day limit. Similar fa-cilities are available in the NationalPark Service campgrounds at TempleBar (Arizona) on Lake Mead; atKatherine Landing and Willow Beach,both on the Arizona side of LakeMohave; and at Cottonwood Cove,on th e Nevada side of the same lake.The public camps maintained at Over-ton Beach (Lake Mead) an d Eldo-rado Canyon (Lake Mohave) areclassed by the Park Service as "prim-itive" an d afford only native vegetationfor shade, and pit toilets. In addition,camping is permitted in all the moreremote sections of the National Recre-ation Area, the only requirements be-ing that fire an d sanitary precautionsbe observed. State laws prohibit camp-ing within 200 feet of the water, an dno campfires are permitted on beachesnear boat harbors, or on swimmingbeaches.

As in vacation locales thoughoutthe country, an ever-present problemin th e Colorado River area is thecurse of the litterbug."We have had a great problem withmaterials being thrown into the lakesand also buried in the sand along12

MB,,FREE HAVASU LANDING PUBLIC CAMPGROUND.

shore," said Ingham, who pointed ou tthat the water level of Lake Mead ha svaried as much as 300 feet; therefore,tin cans an d other trash thrown intothe lake are exposed as the water levelfalls, while materials buried in thesand are often uncovered by animalsor by rising water. All good outdoors-men and campers should place theirtrash in receptacles provided for thatpurpose where such are available.In remote areas not serviced by trashpick-up, however, it is recommendedthat all papers, cartons an d othercombustible material be burned in acleared area to guard against fire haz-ard, and at a time of day when windvelocity is low, while tins should beflattened and buried at least a footdeep an d well above high-water line.(Flattening may be accomplished moreeasily if the tins are first well burned,which also hastens th e rusting processand so promotes their earlier assimila-tion by the soil.)

Mounting population is almost cer-tain to bring to the lakes of the LowerColorado in years to come a bad doseof overcrowding. At present, how-ever, there is little evidence of thisproblem along th e river. Even in mid-summer, when use of facilities is heav-iest, we have always been able to finda campsite (although no t always withshade or immediately adjacent to the

water) and during the "off-season"(October to April) the vacationer canjust about take his pick. Which bringsthe question: When is the best timefor a vacation on the river?Potential fishermen will do well tobear in mind that the year's strongestwinds occur between March an d June,at which time there is an average of13 days in each month when the lakesare to o rough for safe usage of smallboats. The least wind of the year oc -curs between September and March.Beginning around May 1 and continu-ing through September, maximum day-time temperatures average almost 100degrees, with occasional days in Julyand August that are real scorchers.While such temperatures can be quiteuncomfortable in an unshaded camp-site, they have th e advantage of warm-ing th e water to make this th e besttime of year for swimming and waterskiing. Winter brings clear pleasantly-warm days an d chill nights, with shortperiods when the mercury may dropto freezing. Rainfall occurs in bothwinter an d midsummer, but with thearea's total precipitation averaging lessthan five inches annually, it isn't likelyto upset vacation plans. (A t Cotton-wood Landing, on Lake Mohave, Iawakened one January morning tofind a snowstorm blowing across th elake and whitening the Joshua treeson surrounding hills, but by mid-fore-

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


13/44

noon the snow had vanished and thesun was again shining beautifully.)It sifts down to the fact that anytime of year is better in some respects,and not so good in others. If there isany all-around "best" time on theLower Colorado, my choice would befor the latter part of September, allof October, and the forepart of No-

vember, even until Thanksgiving. Thenthe heat of summer has broken, yetthe nights are still pleasantly warmfor camping and boating, there is vir-tually no wind and autumn is in theair. Golden plumes are on the rabbitbrush, the first yellow tints have comeLAKE HAVASU. ACROSS THE WAY IS ARIZONA.

to the cottonwoods, willows and tam-arisks, and night hours bring thehaunting call of wild geese and duckswinging through the darkness. Thenpeace, like a powerful essence, seemsto seep out of the old brown deserthills, and a wonderful feeling of drow-siness settles over land and water.END

A LOVELINESS BEYOND ALLWORDING . . .W HEN WE are home againamong the northern firs andpines, and cold winds sweepdown from snowy peaks, I shallwant to remember this camp besidethe Colorado.There are the mornings when myhusband and I watch the stars winkout before the oncoming dawn, andpink streaks, like flamingo feathers,whisk across the eastern sky, catchfire, leap into flames of scarlet andorange, burn down to gold andsoften quickly to yellow as the sunpushes above the long hills. I shallwant to recall the pungent odor ofwood smoke coming from ourcampfire; the fragrance of coffeeand baked beans; the satisfactionof our meals eaten in the open onthe river's bank.

I shall want to remember ourwalks over the mesa where the hillsare oddly smooth on top and black-ened with the scorching of countlesssummer suns; to recapture, in somesmall way, the excitement of find-ing among those blackened hills awell-colored bit of jasper or a deli-cate floweret of desert rose.In our leisurely wanderings wehave found pleasure in the simplest

things: following an old road to anabandoned mine; finding a cleanwooden box to use for a camp cup-board; coming upon our first oco-tillo in bloom; seeing the tiny baby-hand tracks of a raccoon; eatingour lunch under a wide-spreadingpalo verde.The little sparrows eagerly await

By GRACE PRATT

our crumbs, and are so friendlythey almost but not quite eatfrom our hands. When we leavewe will miss them and all the otherbirds we have come to know here:the ungainly road runner, the mock-ingbird that was never in a moodto sing for us, the pair of tree ducksfloating lazily along the small pondwe named "Duck Puddle," and thegreat blue heron that stands frozenfor a quarter of an hour on thesandspit.Most fascinating of all are theegrets which sail on fine white

wings to their roosting grounds onthe diminutive island in the centerof West Pond. The first one lands

when the waters are brilliant withthe colors of sunset, the last lingersuntil dusk makes its homewardflight impossible to follow.I shall want to remember theother campers, their kindness inbringing our mail from town, theirgenerous gifts of fresh-caught fish(we are not fishermen), their integ-rity in keeping a primitive campclean and free from all unpleasant-ness, and the fine fellowship andimpromptu programs around eve-ning campfires.Each hour of the day has itsown charm. In the quietness of lateafternoon when even the bird voicesare subdued to a murmur, therecomes the time of shadows. Ablending of purple, orchid and lilacgathers along the distant mountainsand creeps gently over the mesa.Like a veil of silk it softens thesharp outlines, covers the bareness,erases all harshness. That it is with-out substance does not matter; itcreates a loveliness beyond allwording. The shadow is for thediscerning eye and receptive heart.

It reaches out to bring peace toone's soul. This, above all else, Imust remember .END


14/44

T o B a j a C a l i f o r n i aW i t h A N a t u r a l i s t

By EDMUND C. JAEGER, D.Sc.Curator of PlantsRiverside Municipal Museum

E VERY YEAR with but one excep-tion in forty I've spent my Christ-mas holidays in desert wildernessplaces. It was always a case of seek-ing out the areas at once most lonelyand scenic and with traversing roadsthat were mere trails of rock and sand.Last year the choice was the aridcountry reached by the new roadbladed far down the east gulf shoreof Lower California below San Felipe.My four companions and I, travelingin two Willys station wagons, enteredMexico at the quaint and friendly vil-lage of Tecate, bought pesos at oneof the banks and sped eastward onthe well-paved highway toward Mexi-cali. As we went down the highlyscenic Cantu grade and saw before usthe expansive dry Laguna Salada,Stanley Phair proposed that we makea short-cut by attempting to go downthe entire length of the big playa andjoin the Mexicali-San Felipe road atthe sand dunes some 65 miles belowthe Border."Few people have ever gone thatway," I said, "and it is somewhatdoubtful if we can make it, especiallysince the playa has been recentlyflooded; but adventure is what we de-

sire so let's try it. If we can't getthrough we can always come back."

Going over the first twenty-fivemiles of the hard surface of dry bar-ren flats was easy enough, but fromthen on it began to get "rough." Ourfirst real troubles began when we foundourselves compelled to go across largeareas of dry tamarisk shrub stubble,many of the spike-like stubs from 6to 10 inches tall. They were almostas hard as nails. Every one was apossible menace to our tires, so wetried to avoid all we could. But inspite of great care one of Tom Daniel-sen's tires was soon pierced and hehad to put on his only spareand thisthe first day out! Subsequent travelover the dry laguna clays appraisedus of the fact that the tire-menacingtamarisk stubs were to be met within many places.

Before mid-afternoon our way wasblocked by broad mud flats and finallyby a 50-foot stream of slowly movingwater flowing north from the ColoradoRiver through the center of the PattieBasin {Desert Magazine, June 1958,p . 24). We found this stream andits bordering salt cedar or tamariskbushes of great interest because of thenumerous water-loving birds we saw,and several hours with our field glasseswere spent observing them. It wasnow necessary to turn west and toO N THE MUD FLATS OF LAGUNA SALADA.

$ /'^^wsmmm.

make numerous time consuming di-versionary travels to avoid slipperymud flats, wide stretches of spreadingwater and again the treacherous flatscovered thick with tamarisk stubble.The high excitement of the first daycame when Stan Phair and I, travelingin my Willys station wagon chancedupon a large well-fed and handsomecoyote, who having quenched his thirstat the stream, was now returning acrossthe hard mud flats to his home in thebrush country of the foothills in thenearby mountains. In quest of long-desired information on just how fasta coyote can run we took out afterhim. At 20 miles per hour he lopedalong with ease. He was still aheadof us at twenty-five miles but whengoaded on by our pursuit at 30 milesper hour he was doing all he could.Even at this speed he traveled for atleast a quarter of a mile. Finally hebegan to weary and slow down. We

were not convinced that he exactlyappreciated this foot-race with an autoand when we saw him tiring westopped the car and let him go. Heimmediately made for the hills. Fre-quently he paused and turned to re-proachfully look back at us. Ourswas probably the first automobile he'dever seen and I don't think he wastoo happy about his strange pursuer.Evening closed in on us when wewere only half way down the lengthof the playa; because of so many ob-stacles we'd only traveled about 40miles that day.The day before we left home I'droasted a 12 lb. turkey stuffed withdressing, made cranberry sauce, "built"a pumpkin pie and prepared othergood things for holiday feasting, sowe settled down that evening to asavory meal under pleasant conditionsthat only such surroundings can pro-vide. After supper we recounted theday's strange adventures, listened tothe deep calls of the horned owl, theludicrous cries of friend coyote andwent to sleep under clear star-studded

skies.Next morning we were again on anuncharted, devious and dubious wayover the enormous southern end ofthe playa. Again we found our for-ward progress slowed by mud flatsand the broad sheets of spreadingwater. Eventually we were actuallydriven back into the sand dunes whichin many places border the laguna onthe west. Here by merest chance wecame upon a long-abandoned almostcentury-old smuggler's road which forseveral miles guided us around partsof the untravelable dry lake bottom.But no sooner were we on the playaagain than the tamarisk stubble fieldsbegan to give us more trouble; indeed

1 4 DESERT MAGAZINE


15/44

we now had three flat tires incontrastto yesterday's one, all in a space of afew minutes. It was a rather disheart-ening experience when we realized weyet hadbefore us at least 700milesof travel over rocky roads that wouldbe very hard ontires. Once ourtireswere repaired wetraveled in zig-zagsand wide circles most of the day, pick-ing ourway asbest wecould, manytimes thwarted by theincoming wide-spreading flood-waters that were fastfilling the laguna. Again the day'smileage was meager and early eveningfound us hunting a campsite on theplaya's western edge. A long bit ofunused road led usback to abig cleansand wash bordered by enormous iron-wood trees andwith magnificent spe-cimens ofpalo verdes and smoke treesgrowing here andthere in thecenter.If space and the tonic of wildernessare needful forman's proper aestheticand physical development here wehad theessentials in abundance.F a r tothe west was the grand mile-high escarpment of theSierra Juarez;in thedistant south rose the majestic2-mile high Sierra SanPedro Mart i rbathed in blue ; on the east was thebroad playa and the rocky barrenslopes of the Cocopahs , nowtintedrich magenta indeparting sunset glow.Just a fewmiles from this charmingcampsite rose up,like an island in asea of desert gray-green trees andshrubs, the steep cone-like form ofa peak called Cerro Capirote, topped"ice-cream-sundae-like" with a blackand brown cap of congealed lava.

Next morning at sunup we wereoff again to do our final lap on thedry lake-bed clays. It was again milesand miles of diversionary driving.The water, never more than a fewinches deep, was nowexpanding somuch at the place where one ordinar-ily goes uponto thehighway near theSierra Prieta hills that we had to goup to andover thedeep sands of thedunes tomake the connection. It wasnow noon of the third day.

|K.7:.;:;tt';;. . i.

The largely level stretch of desertfrom here southward along theGulfof California hasbeen called El De-sierto de LosChinos (Desert of theChinese) by theMexicans because ofthe death from thirst of almost the en-tire group of 42Chinese who near theturn of the century attempted in sum-m er to traverse this lonely, practicallywaterless desert while on their wayfrom SanFelipe to get work in thefields at Mexicali.

To most travelers this is a rathermonotonous uninteresting bit of desertto cross but we, being enthusiasticnaturalists, found it far from barrenwaste. We rejoiced in the manystrange forms of plant life includingthe bizarre whisker or senita cactusand, before reaching SanFelipe, thefirst specimens of the giant cardon(Pctchycereus pringlei), twokinds ofelephant trees andcountless ocotillos.Summer cloudbursts haddone muchto supply these plants with water andsome were infull leaf andflower.

W e had 30 gallons of good waterwith us when we left home but inspite of meager use we hadonly 20gallons left when on the fourth daywe broke camp 15 miles below SanFelipe. Wewere indeed happy whennearing Puertocitos some 35 milessouth, we found a crude sign point-ing towater about a quarter of a mileBAHIA SANLUIS GONZAGA ON THEGULF.

PORTION OF ROAD IN VOLCANIC HILLS.up a drywash. The dugwell wasfitted with a small gasoline engine andpump and we soon replenished oursupply. This was ouronly chance toagain getgood water for another200miles.

In these out-of-the-way places na-tive people are almost always veryfriendly. Lon g remem bered will bethe exceedingly handsome, lithe andlively young Mexican at Puertocitos,who out of pure friendliness, offeredus handfuls of delicious boiled shrimphe had just taken from a steamingkettle. We returned his favor withhalf a dozen fresh avocados. A bigsmile and laughing eyes, brighteneda face with forehead overhung bydangling curls of blackest hair. Sal-vador, you are indeed a prince amongmen.

Most travelers in autos go no far-ther south, foralthough thenew roadis fairly wide andwell marked, it isoften very rocky or sandy andwhengoing inland to avoid sea cliffs, isoften very steep. Formany miles itfollows along numerous ridges andgoes upand down steep arroyo banks.The lava flows which here go downto theedge of andeven into the seaare quite recent but already brokenup into uncountable black angularblocks.Hardly a plant has ventured to; . ; ' - ; - : . . ; ; ;:;=

H S r aA U G U S T , 1959 15


16/44

grow upon them and this gives thescene an appearance of peculiar deso-lation. We saw only a few tall, white-stalked milkweeds (Aesclepias alibi-cans) and brave, far-scattered brittlebushes, their few white leaves con-trasting markedly with the black rock.Near The Sea

From time to time we got marvel-ously beautiful vistas of the ultra-bluesea in which jutted up pyramidal bar-ren rocky volcanic islands which formthe roosting and nesting places ofmyriads of small and large sea birds.A few of these islands are joined tothe shore by a low narrow sandy isth-mus, visible at low tide, and at suchtimes of exposure the resourceful coy-otes wander back and forth from themainland to hunt for edible sea animalsand to surprise and gobble up unwaryroosting sea birds.

At the lower end of this long stretchof up and down roads we again cameto the sea and charmingly situatedBahia San Luis Gonzaga.

By BENN KELLER, ManagerFord Desert Proving GroundsKingman, ArizonaPre-Trip Preparation

If you are planning a trip to thedesert, or if you live here and areabout to start off on a long vacationtrek, here are things you should doto insure a trouble-free ride:Clean and flush engine coolingsystem. In summer weather do notuse any type of anti-freeze in radiator.Be sure fan belt is tight and in serv-iceable condition. Have radiator pres-sure cap checked to be sure it is pres-sure tight. Be sure radiator hoseclamps are sufficiently tight, hoses arein good condition, and no coolantleaks are in evidence. Clean frontface of radiator core of all bug car-casses, leaves, waste paper scraps andany other debris that would restrictnormal air flow. Do not strap sparetire, baggage or other material tofront of vehicle in a manner that willrestrict air flow.

Inflate tires to recommended infla-tion pressures. If you have a sizablequantity of luggage, give every con-sideration to the purchase of a car-top type of luggage carrier. They re-sult in a more even distribution ofexcess load which is better for tires,effective braking, handling, headlightaltitude at night, and also leaves yourspare tire more readily accessible incase its use should be required. Se-cure the luggage thoroughly with ade-quate tie-downs and provide a water-proof, well-anchored cover for pro-tection against bugs and the elements.

We are old-fashioned campers wholike to cook our meals on a wood fire.We found that along the sea, woodwas "hard to come by" since there isvery little drift wood and still less tobe had from growing trees on thenearby rocky hills. However, by dili-gent and wide search we found enoughfuel for the evening and morning firewhich we made in a nearby shelteredcove. The tide-pool sea life here wasremarkably varied, wonderful to be-hold and plentiful. Especially hand-some were the big golden-brown sol-asters or 20-rayed sea stars and num-erous gay-colored snails and bivalvedmollusks, tan-tinted sponges, delicatelyplumed sea worms, hydroids and lim-pets.

Our road from now on for manymiles was again on the almost levelsand and continued on southward,passing several miles inland, the bigand unbelievably beautiful bay calledEnsenada San Francisquito. Thegraded road ends near here at a bar-rier of rocks. A one-track sand roadthen turns up a broad wash whichdebauches from the low mountainswhich form the backbone of the pen-insula.

In the sands of our wash were un-usual numbers of animal tracks ofmany kinds. That night Stan Phairwas disturbed twice by soft-furredwild mice in his bed, and all of usrepeatedly heard the bewitching wailsof Don Coyote. Grateful we were thatthe paid poison squads have not yetin wild Mexico begun their senselessand nefarious campaigns to eliminatethe valuable coyote.

Next morning we noticed severalravens flying about and circumspectlywatching our every move. The mo-ment we pulled out of camp the wholelot of them swooped down to cleanup every scrap of food refuse, includ-ing the turkey bones we'd put out forthe coyotes and foxes. Just a case offirst there, first served.Strange Plants

It was our plan to go far enoughinland to see the giant cirio, closerelation of the ocotillo and strangestof all the peninsula's plants. Thesewe found in typical abundance as weneared the top of the peninsular di-vide and with them were cardons andother Viscaino Desert plants. Fromthis point we could look over thebroad shrub-covered downward slopeto the Pacific. A few miles easy travelwould have brought us to dry clay-bottomed Laguna Chapala and thejunction with the main peninsularhighway. Using it we could have madeour return home by way of Ensenada.But here at the summit we decided toturn east again to the Gulf and spend

16

some time in the vicinity of PuertoCalamajue.In some way we missed the roadand we were forced to make camp ina broad wash leading up to some oldmines. But it was a most impressiveplace because of the extensive forestof giant cardons. We had never ex-pected to see them so near the sea

and certainly not such big ones.Among these massive cacti we foundthe most strange cristated one I'veever seen. Almost every one of thenumerous branches ended in a hugefan-like fluted crest. Such grotesquedeformities are thought to be causedby a virus.Next morning we traveled north tospend two days at the sheltered baycalled Ensenada San Francisquito. Itis a beautiful place but difficult ofaccess because of the heavy sands.We had to make our own road.

Marine LifeWe found the blue, often calmwaters of the bay alive with manyforms of small marine life and sharksand rays and many kinds of colorfulfish; also several mammals playfulporpoises and several kinds of whales.Far back from the water's edge on thedry sand we came upon five dessicatedcarcasses of stranded Pacific Blackfish(Globicephala scammoni) often calledPilot Whales, each of them about 16feet long. Their bodies were blackfrom small-mouthed globular head todivided tail. This most gentle andgregarious of all whales often assem-bles in great herds of hundreds ofindividuals and all members of theherd blindly follow a leader. Herethe leader at a time of exceptionallyhigh shoal water had gone too fartoward the shore, had become strandedand the others had followed suit. Withhim they died because they were un-able to get back to the sea when thewaters receded.From here we returned home over

the same rough roads we had traveledon the way down the coast. But wefelt that our primitive road was verygood in comparison to the old onewhich largely paralleled it and por-tions of which we could see from timeto time. So narrow, so rocky, so steepand meandering were many of itsparts that one is truly amazed howeven the toughest well-trained muleteams ever dragged wagons over it;moreover, we are prone to ask wheredid the brave and resourceful muledrivers, while carrying machinery andsupplies for the distant mines, everfind or haul enough water and feedto supply their hard working beasts? E N D

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


17/44

By BILLIE WILLIAMS YOSTN 1917 B.B. (Before Bridges) whilefording the Little Colorado River,I had a brush with a deadly com-binationquicksand and locoweed. Iwas a girl of 10 at the time, and ourhome was the isolated Red Lake Trad-ing Post on the Navajo Reservation

45 miles northwest of Winslow, Ari-zona. Besides my parents, who wereIndian traders , and me, there were mybrothers Walter, 18, and Roy, 16, andmy sister Esther, 12.Electricity, telephones and modernplum bing were years away. It is diffi-cult to imagine the remoteness of thesingle structure of our trading post.It was situated on a flat barren stretchof red desertland, with not anotherhuman habitation in s ight. Far to thewest rose the majestic San FranciscoPeaks ; east and north was a maze ofsmall buttes and mesas; southward,between the trading post and our sup-ply point of Winslow, the Little Colo-rado River cut a saber scar throughthe desert.

A Watery EnemyTo reach "civilization" we had tocross the Little Colorado. This riverdealt us all kinds of misery. To usit was an enemy to fight, conquer andthen talk about.It was especially treacherous inspring, for in addition to flood waters,there grew on its banks a species of

locoweed (Astragalus) that was thefirst plant in the region to turn greeneach year. Horses and cattle, starvedfor green fodder after the long barrenwinter, often ate locoweed. It causedthe animals to have the blind staggersthat eventually led to deathat leastthis was the common belief at thetime.When the river was running, itswater was red and muddy. "To o thickto drink, and too thin to plow," washow the old-timers described the flow.It was impossible to predict the condi-

tion of the river from one week to thenext. It could be bone dry one day,and 48 hours later rilled from bank tobank with swift turbulent water.DangerWhen low, it was an alkaline trickle,the sandy bed firm and safe. A p-proaching flood stage, it was a danger-ous chasm to cross. With frighteningswiftness, the hard moving streamcould gouge out a hole deep enoughto snare a horse and its rider. The nthe river bed was a highway of treach-erous shifting quicksand.

I shall never forget the trip to Wins-low for a load of flour and sugar thatWalter, Esther and I mad e. "Oursupplies are low, and I think the trip

When the wagon became mired in the dangerous river,the boy went for help, leaving his two sisters to guardthe precious sacks of flour and sugar they had salvaged.

will be good experience for you,"father had said.We borrowed an Indian horse andteamed him with our horse, Tony.We hitched them to the wagon andstarted off on our adventure . Every-thing went smoothly on the trip in.We crossed the river without mishapand arrived late that evening at ourWinslow home on AspinwaU Street.Father allowed us two days in town,and Esther and I spent most of thattimeand all of our allowancesatThe Palace of Sweets. Ice cream onthe reservation was far scarcer thansnowballs must be in Hades.At sunrise the third day, we beganthe long return trip to Red Lak e. We

arrived at the river at noon, and restedthe team. While the animals grazed,W alter appraised the river. It wouldnot be necessary, he decided, to wade

GR AND FALLS OF THE LITTLE COL ORA DOON THE PAINTED DESERT NORTHEAST OFFLAGSTAFF. AFTER A STOR M, THE USUALLYDRY FALLS BECOME A RO ARI NG CASCAD E.

the stream to test it for quicksand.So we boldly drove the team into theswift muddy current. At mid-streamthe Indian horse unceremoniously pro-ceeded to lie down. Walter struck athim again and again with the longwhip, but without effect. Tony lookedaround as if to say, "I can't pull thisload alone."Loco Horse"Crazy loco horse!" Walter shoutedas he leaped into the muddy water.He unharnessed the animals, blind-folded the Indian horse with a blue

bandana handkerchief, pulled him tohis feet, and then led both animals tothe opposite bank."This horse must have eaten loco-A U G U S T , 1 9 5 9 17

C r o s s i n g t h e L i t t l e C o l o r a d o


18/44

we ed," W alter called. "They alwaysact this way when they get locoed!"Esther and I sprang into action. Wejumped in and started hauling sacksof flour to dry ground. W e w orkedlike possessed demons to save theprecious cargo. We knew how angryfather would be. Walter, of course,worked hardest of all for he had failedto heed father's order to "never crossthe river without testing it."The wagon wheels were sinkingdeeper into the quicksand. Soon the

muddy water would be in the wagonbed and the supplies would be ruined!"Hurry!" Walter cried as he trottedthrough the water with a 100 poundsugar sack on his shoulde r. "If thisload gets wet father will skin us alive!"I stumbled under the weight of 25-pound flour sacks, but only lost one.After many trips, we had our cargoon the bank."Whoo-ee," sighed Walter in relief."Now we have to get the wagon out.The muddy water was level with the

Photo Hints by Bob Riddell

D E S E R T S C E N I C S . . .When photographing a desert scenic, shooting time is very im-portant. Nothing looks duller than a photo of the desert taken whenthe sun is directly overhead. Always take your desert pictures whenthe sun is at a low enough an gle to give nice shadow d etail. Morninglight for color film tend s to be cool; afternoon light is wan ne r. Eithermorning or afternoon light give excellent results for black and white,for the desert is truly a photographer's paradise.To get depth of fielda most important factor in shooting scenics a slow shuttsfl" speed an d sm all lens opening a re a must. I usuallycheck with my light meter for extra ass ura nce . Most of my scenics

are shotcamera on a tripodat l/25th of a second at f. 16 aperture,after allowing 1 Vz stops increase for a yellow filter (from f. 32). I useSuper XX Kodak film in a 4x5 speed g raphic cam era, 6-inch lens. Mycolor scenics are mostly on Anscochrome, l/10th at f. 32.Composition is the most important factor for a good scenic. Nicecloud formations help balance your outdoor pictures. A yellow filterover the lens darkens the sky and brings out the clouds to their white,billowy best. A red filter gives a n even more dram atic effect. If youcan't wait for clouds, try framing with a palo verde tree, or saguarocactus, to take away that empty-sky feeling of the picture.Only luck will find a well-composed picture from the highway.Get out an d walk. Search for a well-shaped sagu aro or a pictur esquedesert trail for your foreground. Keep distracting clutter to a m inimum.I spend hours scouting new locations, but I come back with picturesnot found in every desert album.Photo above shows a typical country trail running through thedesert floor at the foot of the Santa Catalina Mountains north of Tucson.Exposure: l/25th of a second at f. 16, with yellow filter.

bed. Two Navajo men approached onhorseback, and they helped Walterlift the bed off the frame and pull itto shore, but the frame and wheelswere hopelessly mired. The Indiansoffered no solution, and the sun waslow in the west."You girls stay with the load,"Walter ordered. "I'll ride to Red Lakefor father. He'll know what to do. "Esther and I looked at one another,but we said nothing."I'll ride fast as I can," Walterpromised as he mounted Tony. "It's25 miles to Red Lake, so don't expectfather until daylight. He'll have tolead another horse back we cannever use that Indian horse again."Nctvajos Remain

And then Walter was gone, but ournewly-made Navajo friends remained.Esther produced a can of pork andbeans and one of sardines, one of theIndians took a box of soda crackersfrom his saddle bag, and the four ofus sat down to dinner. The only wordsthat passed between us were whenEsther offered sardines to one of theIndia ns. H e refused, saying, "fishcousin to rattlesnake, Navajo no eatsnake."By the time we finished our meal,the weather had turned cold. TheIndians built a roaring fire, and wesat around it. After awhile, Estherand I spread our lone blanket on thefloor of the wagon bed, and turned in.The Indians curled up near the dyingembers. I 'm sure, in our innocence,that we slept much more soundly thatnight than did our poor mother.We were awakened at dawn byfather. H e was greatly disturbed t ofind us sleeping at wate r's edge. Theriver had risen during the night.Father Is RelievedWe fully expected a tirade, butfather was so glad we were safe notone word of rebuk e was offered fromthat day to this.It was a long and tedious job tofree the wagon from the quicksand.By morning it had sunk out of sight,and we had to point out the placewhere we had last seen it. Using acottonwood log for a lever, he priedit out of the sand one wheel at a time.With the wagon bed in place, thecargo re-loaded, the horses harnessed,and father at the reins, we drove awayfrom the river feeling very safe andhappy. The loco horse was left be-hind to forage for himself. He wouldnever be useful again, father said.Esther and I sang mother's favoritehymn, "Shall We Gather at the River.""There's a big difference between theriver you're singing about and themuddy Little Colorado," father saidwith a smile .END

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


19/44

W e Hiked

The Saline Valley tramway on California's Mojave Desert was a boldmining venture13 miles of steel cable over the rugged Inyo Mountains.By ROBERT O. GREENAWALT

VALUE OF the extremely concen-trated salt deposit in Saline Val-ley, a raw desolate trough westof Death Valley, was early recognizedby mining menbut between the sal tlake and a transportation outlet to thewaiting markets of Southern Califor-nia was the massive barrier of theInyo Mountains. This rocky ridgeabruptly rises 7000 feet above the lake.

The Saline Valley Salt Companyengineers made bold plans: a 13.4mile tramway over the Inyos to adischarge terminal near Swansea, his-toric eastern shore port on OwensLake when that lake held its due shareof water.After two arduous years of mule-powered construction, the system be-gan operat ing in 1913. Capable ofhourly transporting 20 tons of whatlocal residents claim is still "the purestsalt in the world," and cutting fourarrow-straight swaths in its right-of-A U G U S T , 1 9 5 9

way over the mountains, the line wasrouted from the salt lake's south shoreup precipitous Daisy Canyon, acrossthe summit saddle between 10,668-foot New York Butte and 9705-footPleasant Mountain, and then downacross a series of brushy canyons pastpock-marked striated cliffs to the floorof Owens Valley. The discharge ter-minal was connected with Keeler bythe Southern Pacific narrow gage rail-road line, the posted stop of "Tram-way" adequately handling the saltt rade.

Not only did the multiple steelstrings supported by heavy woodenframeworks represent one of theworld's longest tramways at that time 13 miles of cable line in the year1913 the salt t ram provided the high-est lift, and few would dispute the factthat the tram traversed a finger of themost rugged terrain on earth.For 17 years of intermittent opera-

tion by several companies the salttram's nearly 300 buckets made theslow round trips from loading terminalto discharge terminal. In 1930 theDepression and competition frombetter sodium chloride deposits wrote an end to the mining venture.I have long been interested in thisproject. Last summer I hiked along thebucket brigade, heeding the advice ofa number of long-time Owens Valleyresidents who answered my queriesconcerning the present condition ofthe tram with: "C an't tell you muchabout it, you'll have to go up themountain and see for yourself."The daybreak hour of a Saturdaymorn found five companions and mehuddled around a campfire munchingbreakfast. W e had camped off High -way 190 near the several weath-ered cabins that mark Swansea andthe discharg e term inal site. Onlynumerous concrete footings, a small

19

:; :

the Inyo'B u c k e t Brigade


20/44

SALINE VALLEY SALT COMPANYTRAM PROFILEKEYA-Load ing Term ina lB- Double Tension (4 Counter Wts.)C- Anchorage 6 Tension (2 Counter Wts.D-Rail Suppor t

E- Angle & Control (D irec t ion Change)F- Curved Roil (Break-O ver Stat ions )G- Anchorage & Tension --Curved RailH- Cont ro lJ - Discharge Terminal

SUMMIT E^-Control Sta.for Sees.Ill&ETELEV. 8720 ' / K * l t F ' 0 N E 1OT0R , BOTH SECTIONS)F/

Control Sto. for Sec YE / D (MOTOR DRIVE)

I N Y O M O U N T A I N SELEV. 362 0 A T S W A N S E A ^ ;

L O A D I N G T E R M I N A LELEV. 1 0 58 ' AT S A L IN ES A L T L A K E

12 MILES

9000 'FEET

7 0 0 0 '

5000

3 0 0 0 '

1000

pile of dust-laden salt, and the rutsof an uprooted railway spur give evi-dence of the discharge terminal's posi-tion. Before shipping, the stockpiledsalt was crushed at this site.Our party was split into two teams:hikers and drivers. The hikers, Do nMinassian, Fred Duerst and I, wouldmake our ascent of the western face

of the mo untain that day. The drivers,Hugh Parshall , Andy Kocela andRoily Shehyn, were to take our ve-hicles over a 16.5 mile roundaboutjeep trail and set up camp at the tramsummit .With a "See you before dark, andhave supper ready," we were on ourway. We climbed the near ridge han dover foot and soon reached our firstmassive framewo rk. It stands severalhundred feet above the highway, butis barely visible to passing motorists.The cables were supported along the 13

mile up-and-down-hill route by 39 suchmajor structures. Between them, 12380-foot-high intermediate towers keptthe cargo off the ground along theparallel slopes and more shallow can-yons.Carted Off Wood

All of the structures within easyaccess of roads, including both ter-minals, have long since been cartedoffeasy prey of the wood gatherersand junk dealers. Used lumber can bevery precious on the sparsely populateddesert. The stout 1 Ox 10s are especi-ally prized. But because mo st of thisjagged range is inaccessible, especiallythe eastern slopes, the mountain will

be as reluctant to give up its tram asit was to receive it.The morning climb was rugged, andthe panorama of the broad expanse ofOwens Valley became more impressiveat each new height. Into view on thefar side of the lake came the ribbonformed by the Southern Pacific's"Jawbone" broad gage. The construc-tion of this railroad north from Mo-jave in 1911 was largely responsiblefor the tram 's creation. The broadgage joined the narrow rails atOwenyo.Near one of the towers we founda small rattlesnake shading itself neara corner footing. In the higher coun-try we came across four remote oper-ators' cabins, a couple in the samecondition as they were when their in-habitants left them for the last time.

Bleached WhiteThe western slope's towers, some

void of cables, are bleached a dullwhite. Many of the steel buckets thatformed the brigade still cling to theirsteadfast cables high over deep can-yons. Other w ire ropes, victims ofvandals' hacksaws, lie limply on theground as their twisted containers resthalf-buried in churned-over cloudburstdebris.Near the 7000-foot contour friendlypinyon pines began to appear, andjoined by juniper and mountain ma-THE AUTHOR AND ONE OF THE SALINE VALLEYTRAM BUCKETS. STEEL CONTAINER HELD ABOU T800 POUNDS OF SALT. ITS TWO-WHEEL CAR-RIAGE RODE THE STATIONARY SMOOTH TRACKCABLE WHILE THE AUTOMA TIC GRIP BELOW AT-TACHED ITSELF TO THE MOVING TRACTION ROPE.

hogany, they accompanied us to thesummit.We were well spent as we ap-proached the crest. Within whistlingdistance of camp, a shout from one ofthe drivers enlightened our spirits.Dinner was ready, as promised, andthe sleeping bags were layed out on

U I J H K I F20 DESERT MAGAZINE


21/44

the pleasant veranda of the summitoperator's six-room house. This is animpressive campsite 8700 feet inaltitude, surrounded by a beautifullyfragrant forest, and far below the sightof creeping headlights of Sierra motor-ists.The sparkling night was void of allsound, but it was not this way whenthe tram was in operation. This was

a busy place with a bucket of Salinesalt raising its head over the easterncrest almost ever minute. From theopposite direction an empty bucketwould come jogging through the pines,and then disappear.Control Points

The summit station motors drovetwo of the five sections that formed

the continuous circuit. Each stationhoused equipment for controlling theelectrically-driven traction ropes thatprovided the thrust for the two-hourjourney.The parallel stationary track cableswere eight feet apart, and the buckets,holding 800 pounds of salt and sus-pended from two-wheel carriages, rodethe smooth track cables. Automatic

grips attached the buckets to the mov-ing ropes.Th Last Leg

The three drivers left early in themorning, their destination the same asours: the salt lake on the floor ofSaline Valley. Their route was alongthe crest of the mountains to the oldmining camp of Cerro Gordo, back

to the highway at Keeler, and then a50-mile J-loop around the mountainsto the lake. We hikers took the shorter,but far more difficult, direct route tothe lake. It was almost straight-downhiking which can be as arduous asclimbing. We entered Daisy Canyonon a poor trail. Here the woodentram structures were seasoned to arich reddish hue, reflecting the differ-ence in exposure received on this sideof the mountain from that of thewestern slope.

If the view from the summit stationwestward across Owens Valley is su-perb, the view eastward down thedizzy slopes of Daisy Canyon andacross forbidding Saline Valley, 7000feet below, is sensational.Keeping us company along the waywere several coveys of chukar part-ridges. They had far less trouble thanwe in following the dim trails downthe canyon. The tram line made three

wild broadjumps over the gorge, andhow the engineers ever pushed thisproject through is nothing short ofincredible.Three Lakes Below

We stopped to rest at the Section Icontrol station on the lower mountainslopes. From this vantage point theSaline Valley lake became three lakes:the dry playa, the salt lake, and to thewest a fresh water lake. The latterbody of water is frequented by manybirds. A black speck on the shoresof the salt lake indicated the positionof our transportation.At this control station, whose stablestill contains a supply of straw, thecables turned a sharp angle for a bee-line northward to the loading terminalwhich we reached in late afternoon.The dock is marked today by smallpieces of lumber rent into grotesqueshapes by salt action. We joined thebirds for a dip in the fresh water lake,and much refreshed we settled downfor an evening around a cheery camp-fire.

Behind us, hidden by night, was thehalf-million dollar monument to amarvelous project that wasn't worthits salt financially.END

To ' O L A N C H A X OR DEATH VALLE'ATHI VALLEY ''''.!"'*?'!'"":

AUGUST, 19 59 21


22/44

- . - - - : k U - ' ^

MLOS INDIOS"The faces on these pages belong to contem porarySouthwestern Indians proud first Americans whosegrandfathers saw the red m an's dawn advance, as dayitself does, only to be swallowed up in the glaring

world of the white man's noontide. The tribesmenhere were photographed at the annual Gallup, NewMe xico, Inter-Tribal Indian C eremo nial, scheduledthis year for August 13-16. In addition to its variedprogram, the Ceremonial is a photographer's heyday.P h o t o g r a p h s b y A N D R E D e D I E N E S

; : - - -


23/44


24/44

A D e s e r t g o i n gBy MARY HILL

W HEN I acquired a half-interestin a Volkswagen Kombi, andbegan to equip it for a desertvacation, the one thing I particularlywanted was a water tank. So I lookedat water tanks for trailers, which werejust tin cans, and not, to my mind,very sturdy; I looked at jugs of severalsizes, which were awkward in shape,and either too small to be practical, ortoo heavy to lift; I looked at farm tanksthe big galvanized type used to store

W a t e rwater-but they were much too largefor a car.

Finally, I went to several shipchandlers on the San Francisco water-front, and by dint of insistent question-ing learned the answer to my problema built-in wooden water tank linedwith fiber glass similar to the tanks

AUTHOR PUMPS WATER FROM TANK THAT SHE MADE AND THEN INSTALLED IN HER CAR.24

used on fishing boats. Such a watertank, I was told, kept the water freshand pureas tasty as the day it wasstored.Fiber glass can be purchased fromauto and marine supply houses, orfrom the large mail order houses. It issold by the yard (in 44, 48 and 50

inch widths), and the resin to seal itis sold by the half-pint or more.I bought my materials from Law-rence Zieger of the Edgewater BoatShop in Sausalito. It was a good thingI did, for I had never worked withfiber glass, and his words of advicewere of invaluable help."How do you plan to make thetank?" he asked."I'm going to make a box with alid," I answered, "fiber glass eachpiece, then fasten it together and sealthe joined edges from the inside. I'll

use half-inch plywood, so I might evenglass the outside, too, if the materialisn't too expensive.""You're on the right track," Larrysaid. "I doubt if it will be necessaryto fiber glass each section individually,but it would be good insurance if youdid. And glassing the outside mayprevent any leaks that might occurfrom damaging the car interior. Besure you have enough fiber glass clothfor the job before you start."This," he said, handing me a half-gallon can, "is the resin. And this,"

handing me a small, translucent plastictube marked off in quarter ounces, "isthe hardening catalyst that you willmix with the resin. I suggest you mixDESERT MAGAZINE

Tank


25/44

The tank I plannedmeasured to

three quarters inches. My cal-

ProblemsI sawed all of the wood panels by

Then I began to paint.The cloth wiggled and squirmed as

timeless glass. To

only added new air bubbles. I

rush. After that, I mixedAt this point, I found a small warn-on the can of hardener. "Oncel soften it. Clean brushes, pots, etc.,To my pleasure and relief, warm

my hands. Thereafter, so

From then on, the going was fairlyI sanded the excess glass and

Sealing the InsideNext step was to seal the inside,

I took small strips of cloth,ecured them, one by one, with resin.ince my water tank was 27 inchesdeep, the bottom joints were nearlyout of reach. Wiser persons than Iwill attach and seal three side panelsto the bottom piece, leaving only onelong reach after the fourth side panelis fastened on.

And here let me add a warning: besure to work the hardener resin in awell-ventilated room, or, preferably,out - of - doors. Breathing the resinfumes can produce a roaring head-ache.Another reason for doing this work

out-of-doors is to keep the fine glassdust that results from the sanding offof the floor and furniture. I used anelectric drill attachment to file off theexcess cloth and glass, and the cloudthat came from it was thick! And usesafety glassesthe dust contains largeglass splinters.On the whole, the tank went to-gether smoothly, but slowly. The firstday the weather was hot and dry, andthe resin glassed quickly. The secondday was humid, and the tank driedvery slowly. At first I thought I hadincorrectly measured the quantities ofmy ingredients, though I had used ameasuring cup and spoon religiously,but I found that by bringing the tankin by the furnace, it dried rapidly.When my tank walls were com-pleted, including the top which hadan inset board the size of the openingHere's a practical solution to

your water needs while motoringthrough the desert a custom-built tank with marine fittings.to prevent leakage around the unsealedjoint, I was faced with the problem ofhow to tap it. An installation that isplaced fairly high in a car can betapped by a faucet or hose drained bygravity, but by this time I was so

BORE TWO3 / 4 " H 0 L E S - 2 INCHESFROM EACH EOGEFOR FILLING 8 AIRESCA P E .

D R I L L 8 COUNTERSINK HOLES% " FROM EACH SIDE FORON E INCH No.5 FLATHEADWOOD S C R E W S .

proud of my tank I decided to invest$10 in a small galley pump.Two holes drilled beside the pump,one for filling, the other for air escape,completed my tank. I fitted them withsmall brass marine screw tops (al-though corks will serve as well), andmy tank was ready for trial. I washedit out carefully, not wishing to drinkthe ground glass left over from sand-ing, and fastened it to the floor of thecar with angle irons. The garden hosefilled it quickly. I fitted the plugs backinto the holes, and pulled the pumpup . A jet of water struck the pail Ihad placed under the spout. The down-stroke added a bit more. Then, joy!a clean shut-off, with no drip!Water for the CuriousI took my desert water tank toDeath Valley on its maiden voyage,and I'm afraid I took every oppor-tunity to show it off. I pumped muchmore water for demonstrations thanI did for drinking. I pointed out toall who would listen that here was awater tank that could be designed tofit any location in a car, that it wasinexpensive, lightweight, could bepainted to fit the decor, was com-pletely waterproof, extremely sturdy,didn't rattle, gave the water no odoror taste, the materials for making itwere easily obtainable, and what'smore, I made it myself.END

BORE HOLE TO SUITMARINE PUMP THRUT O P S LINER AFTER G L U I N S .D R I L L S COUNTERSINK HOLESV FROM EACH EDGE FOR

ON E INCH No. 5 OV AL HEADBRASS MARINE SCREWSWITH W A S H E R S .

D R I L L '/ , 6 " P I L O THOLES IN EDGESOF PLYWOOD FOR

SCREWS.

A U G U S T , 1 9 5 9 25


26/44

CahuillaCat ' sCradle . .

VICTORIA WEIRICK DEMONSTRATES CRADLE PATTERN THAT SIGNIFIED: "IT WILL BE A BOY."By HARRY C. JAMEST HE INDIANS of the Americasparticipated in a variety of games.These pastimes were basically sim-ilar throughout North America, and,as Stewart Culin notes in his AmericanIndian Games, they were very muchakin to the games played by the peopleof China, Korea and Japan.

One of the most widespread diver-sions among the people of the worldis the one that has come to be knownas "cat's cradle." This is played withstring looped on the fingers in sucha way as to resemble a small cradle.The loops then are transferred fromone finger to another, each shifting ofthe loops forming a change of pattern.Among such North American tribesas the Miwok of Northern California,the Hopi of Arizona, and the stalwartindependent Cahuilla of the mountainsand deserts of Southern California'sRiverside and San Diego counties,

cat's cradle was widely played as anamusing game of skill. Someonewould call the designs and the con-testants would see which one couldcomplete it first, the string patternsbecoming more and more complex asthe contest progressed. Anthropolo-gists say that the Cahuilla developedmore than 100 different designs, amongthem the vulture, crow, eagle, eagle'snest, blue heron, dove, flying dove andgrinding stone.With the Cahuilla, however, thecat's cradle was more than a game. Ithad religious significance as well. Uponthe death of a Cahuilla, his spiritstarted its journey to a final restingplace, Telmekish. Before the spiritcould gain entrance to Telmekish ithad to demonstrate to the guardian ofthe Cahuilla heaven that it could re-member a variety of intricate and sig-nificant cat's cradle patterns. The Ca-

huilla believe that all these patternswere taught to them by Man-el, theMoon Goddess, while she lived amongthem in the days of their genesis.Mrs. Victoria Weirick, a highly re-spected matriarch of the Cahuilla'sWanikicktum clan who lives on theMorongo Reservation near Banning,

was able to recall for me a number ofthe simpler cat's cradle patterns. Shesat in the warm sunlight outside herlittle house which overlooks the wholesweep of San Gorgonio Pass and theSan Jacinto massif beyond, and puzzledout nearly forgotten designs. Wittyand often sagacious were the remarksshe made when her old stiff fingerswould not do exactly what she wantedthem to do, or when her memoryplayed her false.Mrs. Weirick explained how cat'scradle was used to determine the sex

of an unborn child. An expectantmother anxious to know if she wasgoing to have a boy or a girl, wouldseek out an older woman known tobe adept at prophetic skills. Where-upon the older woman would get stringand set to work on a rather simplepattern.Because of some slight unconsciousdifference in the final manipulation ofthis pattern, it would come out in oneof two distinct designs when the stringswere pulled taut. One pattern wasconsidered masculine, the other fem-inine.The older woman would make aseries of these cat's cradles, and whenthe masculine or feminine designturned up three times in succession,the sex of the expected infant was de-clared.When Mrs. Weirick attempted todemonstrate this sex-forecasting trick,the string on her fingers became allfouled up."Evidently a miscarriage!" she saidwith a smile, her wise old eyes twink-ling.END

Making string cat's cradles is one of the most widespread pastimes on earth . . .but with the Cahuilla Indians of Southern California, it was more than a game

26 DESERT MAGAZINE


27/44

READER RESPONSES a v e the Mustang . . .Desert:More power to Velma Johnston ("WildHorse Annie Fights to Save the Mustang,"June Desert). How can we help?BERT REYNOLDSLancaster, Calif.Fight for Mustangs . . .Desert:I am enraged about the way private inter-ests are treating the mustang. How do Ijoin the fight? MRS. F. QUASTSan Diego, Calif.(Supporters of the Save the Mustangcampaign should register with Mrs.Johnston, Box 626, Reno. Ed.)

the truth of the story, and he admitted thathe had "spun the yarn" in a Barstow saloon.The "mine" did not exist beyond the doorsof the saloon.This man passed away a few years later.At least two men have lost their lives inthe search for the Lost Dutch Oven Mine.PAUL B. WALLACEInglewood, Calif.

Laudermilk's Green Conquest . . .Desert:What a mind the late Jerry Laudermilkpresents! His "Green Conquest" in the Mayissue was excellent.LEWIS H. VanBILLIARDDalton, Mass.Happy Over Poetry Policy . . .Desert:Congratulations on the new "Poem-of-the-M onth " policy. This will afford a thrillto all of us who write poetry, and I amsure it will also inspire our best efforts inthis direction.Already two poets, many times repre-sented in Desert, and my close friends, havecalled me about it. We are sincerely happythat this recognition will be given poetry-too often merely a labor of love; yet inspite of the reader polls, eagerly lookedforward to by many of us.MIRIAM ANDERSON

San Bernardino, Calif.Dutch Oven Hoax . . .Desert:My advice to Vemon Anderson, whoexpressed a desire in his letter (June Des-ert) to search for the Lost Dutch OvenMine, is: "Don't waste your time."In 1932 a group with whom I was as-sociated began an extensive search for themine. For two years we prospected theClipper Mountains of California. I cov-ered just about every square yard in thatrange.We became acquainted with an old-timerin the district who reportedly first told theLost Dutch Oven story. From him weheard the story againfirst handalongwith many other tall, tall tales. Then wepinned him down to a direct answer as to

KE N T FR O S T JE E P T R I P SAUG. 17-26 Famous Utah Needles, Hole-in-the-Rock Trail, Natural Bridges, Arches,Indian Ruins and Pietographs, dozens ofother canyons, available only to jeeps.SEPT. 14-23 Standing Rocks, Goblin Val-ley Trip. SEPT. 28-OCT. 7Same as Sept.14-23 trip, including Robber's Roost country.$25. a day includes all camping gear, gas,food, guide service. Write or phoneKENT FEOST, Monticello, Utah

Reproductions Available? . . .Desert:Our congratulations for the attractiveand interesting magazine. We especiallylike your color reproductions for the covers.Do you have any thought of making suchreproductions available for mailing?THE CLIFFORD VINCENTSWhittier, Calif.(There are three or four reasons whycolor reproductions, especially of artists'paintings, are not feasible at this time.Howev

195908 Desert Magazine 1959 August

Documents

Transcript of 195908 Desert Magazine 1959 August